Commander Read online

  Copyright © 2017 Commander by Kristy Marie

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, places, and companies is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and/or restaurants referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Content Editing by Marian Black

  Proofing by Elizabeth Hess

  Cover Designer by Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

  Front Cover Photograph by Ross Jordan Photography

  Interior Formatting by Stacey Blake, Champagne Book Design

  All song titles and lyrics mentioned in Commander are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  This adult contemporary romance novel is not recommended for readers 18 years and younger due to mature content.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for Commander

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Other Books

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  A spectacular debut novel that accomplishes so much more than a typical romance. The first lines lured me in, the story held me hostage, and the characters stole my heart!—Jessica, Chatterbooks Book Blog

  In memory of my Mama.

  Even though I no longer remember the sound of your voice, I still hear when you speak to me.

  Until we meet again, Commander.

  Oohrah.

  “Can’t you just stick it in and grunt a few times?”

  Beer erupts out of Theo’s mouth like a geyser, the droplets spattering all over my tank top, and soaking through to my braless boobs. I’d like to say this kind of thing never happens to me, but it happens rather often when you are best friends with an athlete. Spit. Beer. Sunflower seeds. You name it, and athletes will hock it up. Especially, on your new shoes. Or bare feet. Not that Theo has ever spit on my feet—except that one time. Never mind.

  Swiping away the remnants of foam, I glare at my roommate. “Theo, what have I said about—” Shit, is he choking?

  Panic rips through me as violent coughs wrack Theo’s toned chest. Is he being dramatic? Surely he isn’t choking. But…

  Deciding not to risk it, I reach out, and do the only thing I can think of—I raise his arm like a little kid. Those deep, navy-stained eyes grow wide as he stares at me in horror like he’s concerned Havemeyer University made a mistake by accepting my med school application for the fall semester. I don’t think arm raising is considered the proper medical procedure for strangling.

  But after a tense few seconds, he barks out the last few coughs and pulls his arm from mine. I let him since the immediate threat of death has lessened, but keep my trained medical eye on his coloring just in case. I’m kidding. I move to the other end of the couch, out of the way, in case he ends up wasting the rest of his beer on my shirt. It’s been a slow laundry week, no one needs me wearing a bikini to Ethics class.

  Slow and methodical, Theo silently judges me from his corner of the sofa in the small two-bedroom apartment we’ve shared all four years of college. I mentally prepare for anything. A lecture? A pillow to the face? You never know in this friendship, we’re crazy as hell. However, there was no need to worry since Theo takes the mature route, clearing his throat one last time before cocking his left brow nearly to his hairline.

  “No, Anniston. I cannot ‘just stick it in and grunt’ as you so eloquently requested. That’s not how it works.”

  It never hurts to ask.

  “What about that whole just-the-tip deal, huh? I mean, that’s a thing, right? Obviously, I don’t know from experience, but I’ve watched enough porn.”

  Lips that should not belong on a man, tip up at the corners. He’s about to pop off some smart-ass comment about my lack of knowledge in this department. Wait for it…

  “Anniston McCallister, apart from what you may think, Fifty Shades of Grey is not considered porn.”

  What did I tell you? So predictable.

  “Ok, maybe it isn’t, but you can’t tell me at all those frat parties we go to, those guys are giving girls the full making love treatment. No, they are sticking their peckers in midway and adding a few quick pumps in a filthy bathroom before coming their little hearts out. It doesn’t work that way, my ass…”

  Yeah, I know how shit goes down. Don’t even try and play me, Von Bremen.

  The stupid grin plastered on his face nearly breaks my stride. Von Bremen is enjoying my little rant. And he probably likes that I said “peckers.” Either way, that cute little smile will not distract me from my mission. Okay, maybe it will a little. Let’s be honest here, it’s adorable.

  I need a Plan B just in case this conversation goes absolutely nowhere. And that’s a distinct possibility at the moment. Plan B could be… it doesn’t matter because I am determined to get Von Bremen’s compliance with Plan A.

  I’m not taking no for an answer.

  If he can bang the whole student body, he can bang me.

  It’s not like I’m asking for a deep conversation as we take a long, romantic stroll on the beach. I’m not even asking him to buy me dinner. Wait, that’s not true. We already planned on grabbing dinner, and it’s his turn to pay. He’s not weaseling out of that one.

  “I’m sure you can find a guy willing to fulfill—” he eyes my wet shirt, paying close attention to the damp spot right below my nipple, “your needs. Why me?”

  Uh…because you’re stupid hot and I’ve already seen you naked? I think that’s a solid start. Not to mention, I love you.

  Like for years.

  Yeah, you read correctly. I’ve loved Theo Von Bremen since middle school. His quick wit and asshole personality appealed to me like chocolate and sweatpants on a Friday night. We became fast friends, but never took the next step.

  Why?

  Who knows? Maybe it was bad timing.

  Maybe we are chicken shit?

  The point is: we’ve always been best friends. Even if that meant watching him date other people and feeling so jealous that I deleted over 1,500 contacts out of his phone. Trust me, I did him a solid.

  Tired of arguing with the man who just a week ago helped me get off by rubbing me through my panties, I leap off t
he couch, and stretch my arms out wide. “It’s not like I haven’t given this a lot of thought, Theo. I have.” My voice is an octave higher than normal. Why is it so pitchy? “I wanted to fall in love. I wanted my boyfriend to take me on a blanket under the stars. I’ve had the whole scene planned out since I was old enough to realize what an orgasm was. But the reality is, it didn’t happen for me.”

  Because I was waiting on you.

  “Anniston.”

  I hold my palms up to silence him. Seriously, he needs to hush. This is not a big deal. It’s just sex. “Don’t get me wrong, I had offers; I’m not a total shrew. But I didn’t want to give it up to some random guy on a quick drunken poke. I have standards.”

  Standards that no man measures up to. Except Theodore Von Bremen. Theo and I share a strange kind of love. It will mean something if he’s the one to take my virginity. Well, unless it fucks up our relationship and costs me my one and only close friend.

  That would be devastating.

  I’m desperate, though. I don’t want to go off to med school a virgin. I mean, I could. Fine, I just love the man and want something to remember him by before he leaves me forever. Okay, not forever. He’s moving to Washington, not Antarctica. But what if he meets the love of his life over there and it’s not me?

  Yeah, we’re doing this.

  Theo might be my slutty roommate, but I trust him. If anyone is going to pop my cherry, I want it to be him. At least when I look back on this deal with the devil, I’ll remember that I loved him, even if I have to lie and say it’s just as friends.

  Exhausted and in desperate need of wine, I flop back on the couch, making no effort to keep my boobs from bouncing with the action. The only win in this conversation is that Theo’s eyes have glazed over, which means he’s considering my offer or he’s envisioning me naked. Either way, it’s progress.

  After a moment, though, reality seems to hit him and he starts biting his nails, a habit I wish he would stop. I can’t even fathom all the places those fingers have been. But I guess when you’re used to rubbing them in the dirt, licking the tips before slinging a baseball, what harm are a little germs?

  I glare at the offending thumb wedged deep between his perfect white teeth. A terse chin jerk is all the communication I need after seven years of friendship to relay my annoyance. He doesn’t give a shit though. His mouth moves on to the second finger while raising the third in a salute, just for me.

  Ugh. Whatever.

  While the silence ticks away at my patience, I prepare to pull out all the stops to convince this man to bone me somewhere on a solid surface in this apartment.

  Seriously, he doesn’t need this long to think through my offer.

  It’s sex, not a marriage proposal.

  Regardless, I go on and conjure visions of sad puppies—my go-to in losing situations—to moisten my eyes and on cue, my lip trembles into a well-practiced pout. I blink, slowly drawing attention to the almost-tears and let my naturally long eyelashes take over and with more seduction than is probably warranted in this situation, I lift my gaze and meet Theo’s pinched one. He’s considering it. He just needs a little push in the right direction.

  “Please, Teddy.” I plead, my voice dripping in sweet southern charm.

  Like someone just told him he was a father of the neighbor’s kid, he springs from the couch, tugging at his dark wavy locks in agitation. “Fuck me, Ans.”

  “Yes, Theo, that’s the plan. It won’t take long. We can squeeze it in between your workout and dinner with the team.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. Like it’s a game of Twister or something cooler like Monopoly.

  “Be serious, Anniston.” His firm gaze and red-tinged cheeks attempt to scold me.

  It doesn’t.

  His voice of authority only makes me want to ride that pretty face.

  “I am.”

  Seriously. I’ll take him any way I can get him. I know that makes me seem like a loser, but if you could see the abs on this boy, you would beg him, too. Yeah, they look that good.

  All jokes aside, Theo is moving to Washington, D.C. tomorrow. He was drafted to the Saints’ Major League Baseball team in his freshman year of college, but he waited to sign until he finished his degree. Now that he has, he’s scheduled to leave for the eastern side of the country at five a.m.

  This is my only chance to keep a piece of him.

  Once millions of fans get a peek at that cocky smile and chiseled arms, they won’t even care about his charming southern accent, or the thick chestnut waves that I find most alluring about him. No, when fans get their hands on Theo Von Bremen, our special friendship will be over.

  “I’m serious. You’re the only one I trust to do it.” My voice is resigned as I take one more shot at convincing him before giving up and letting my offer die, right along with our relationship.

  Stopping mid-pace, Theo’s finger slips from his mouth in shock. His steps back to the couch are hesitant, almost as if he’s afraid to get too close. “Are you sure?”

  That damn finger goes back to his mouth. I reach up and swat it down because… dammit! It’s throwing me off my game. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve given it a lot of thought and I want it to be with you.”

  The damn man squeezes his eyes shut as if it causes him physical pain to discuss this with me. What a drama llama…

  After a few seconds, he sucks in a choppy breath, opens his eyes and sighs. “Fine. I’ll do it, but I want to go on record and say I think this is a very bad idea.”

  I can live with that.

  Something like euphoria settles deep in my vajayjay, and I leap off the sofa, catching him off guard with a tackle that nearly topples us over the side of the sofa. With way too much excitement for a friend, I acknowledge his concern with a firm squeeze of one of his delicious butt cheeks. “Noted!”

  “So, Von Bremen, how’s it feel to be a big leaguer now?”

  Dear, dear, Toby. You poor, lonely boy. Don’t get me wrong, Toby is a total sweetheart, but dammit, he rakes on my last nerve with his ass-kissing.

  We’ve been at Mae’s, a little hole-in-the-wall diner, for the last hour enduring ass-kiss after ass-kiss. Every one of Theo’s teammates wants to get in good with him before he goes off to the big leagues this weekend.

  “It feels kinda scary, actually.”

  Toby leans forward, his elbows propped on the table like he’s dying to reach out and grab Theo’s hand. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but he looks super invested in the conversation. “Why’s that? Seems like you would be pumped to get out there and show those punks how it’s done.”

  Callum, Theo’s third baseman, rolls his eyes, “Toby, have you seen the Saints’ lineup? They went to the playoffs for fuck’s sake.”

  Callum’s brother, Carter, steps in next and attempts to explain to Toby (using smaller, less aggressive words) that Theo will be low on the totem pole when he gets to the Saints. They certainly don’t need some twenty-two year-old “showing them how it’s done.”

  “I’ll go to their AAA team until they have a spot open on the roster.” Theo corrects them with a shrug of his shoulders, acting like he isn’t stressed about pitching for a title-winning team—a team that shelled out enough money to feed a small country to acquire him.

  Callum scoots closer to the table like he’s about to tell us a juicy secret, “Dude, I heard they haze the shit out of the rookies.”

  Theo looks at Brody, his catcher, who also happens to be going with him to Washington. They both grin devilishly. “I think we can handle a little hazing.”

  No doubt. Epic pranks and hazing were their trademarks at Cantor University. Not that I saw it first-hand. I attended Berkshire. Since we don’t go to the same college, Theo and I share an apartment off campus in-between the two schools in Atlanta. The commute through downtown is a bitch, but it’s worth it to stay together.

  “What about you, Anniston? Will you be going with him?” Damn Toby and his infinite questions tonight.

  The table quiets as
they all stare, waiting for my answer. And it’s this exact question, which made the decision to stay behind in Madison difficult in the first place. Theo and I battled over it for months. He wanted me to go to Washington and finish med school there, but I needed to do this on my own. Alone. Theo and I have been attached at the hip since middle school. It’s not a bad thing, but it felt like the right time to branch off and do my own thing. Theo is all I have left here in Georgia—ever since my grandparents’ death four years ago. When he moves to Washington tomorrow, I’ll be moving back home to Madison, moving into my grandparents’ abandoned plantation, attending Havemeyer University’s Medical College in the fall.

  I chance a look at Theo, silently begging for help in answering Toby’s question. He only shrugs, absently picking the label off his beer bottle. His constant fidgeting is a well-known effect of his ADHD. It used to annoy me that he was always in motion but I’ve grown used to it over the years. It hardly registers anymore. Except, like now, when I’m frustrated and want to smack that bottle clear out of his grip.

  I take a small sip of my beer, offering Toby a smile that pretty much says this is none of your damn business. “No. I’m not. I’m moving back home over the summer.”

  I swallow a few more sips, ignoring the curious expressions of Theo’s teammates at this shocking revelation.

  “Yo!” Brody interrupts, cutting the tension at the table. “I forgot to tell y’all about this yoga instructor I bagged this past weekend!”

  The guys’ eyes light up at the mere mention of bagging anything, effectively halting any further questions about mine and Theo’s living arrangements.

  “Fucked her in a cabinet!”

  “No way! A cabinet?”

  “Yeah, dude, I crouched down like I was catching a knuckle ball.” Brody stands, demonstrating the squat and hip movement he used. “Plowed her right there in the dorm kitchen!”

  Everyone at the table laughs hysterically, egging him on and creating a flurry of “this one time” tales that I highly doubt happened to the majority of them.