Expected release Spring 2018
Petty Officer Xavier Mitchell has two loves: His career in the Navy and his wife, Alexis. But as his military career advances, it becomes increasingly difficult to balance his focus on the demands of both.
When an accident causes Alexis Mitchell to lose her memory, her husband rushes to her side, prepared to do whatever it takes to help her remember him. But when it becomes clear that the key to his future depends on what his wife remembers, Xavier finds himself wondering whether the return of her memory is in his best interest. Is he willing to put aside his hopes for the future in order to help Alexis remember the past?
You’re Not Lexi
They say the male sex drive decreases after age forty. Apparently my libido didn’t get the memo. Almost half a century on this earth and I could still rock a headboard like a horny teenager. And if the erotic obscenities Petty Officer Torres shouted were any indication, I was still quite capable of providing a hell of a good ride.
Isabel Torres was extremely vocal to say the least. Her profanity laced moans were loud enough to wake the dead, or at least disturb anyone in the room next door. I wasn’t particularly fond of her noise level, but I did love the way her boobs jiggled with every thrust. When she squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingernails into the flesh of my back, I pumped harder, slamming into her with the urgency of anticipated release. Ripples of pleasure coursed through me as her rhythmic muscle contractions stroked me into a blissful state of oblivion. a moment later, I eased out of my coworker, disposed of my condom and quickly pulled on the clothes I’d tossed onto her roommate’s bed.
“You’re leaving?” Tousled, jet-black hair hung around a pretty, olive-toned face as she balanced her upper body on one elbow.
As far as no-strings sex buddies went, Izzy Torres was ideal. She was hot. She gave great head, contorted herself into whatever position I wanted her and didn’t take too damn long to come. But for the past few months, my body had been pretty much just going through the motions as I satisfied a physical need with an activity which left me emotionally empty.
On any other day, I would have remained in her bed for a while chatting about work. Torres was a shit-hot mechanic and her heavy Latina accent made describing engine repair sound like an exotic tale. We’d developed sort of a routine over the past few weeks – after work sex, a quick bite to eat, a few drinks and possibly more sex. Today was different however. I’d reached a dreadful turning point in my life – no, reached implies I was moving toward something. This SOMETHING came out of nowhere and slapped me in the face. Blindsided me. Right now I needed time alone to contemplate my next steps.
“Yeah. I’m gonna go back to my room and study a bit. I need to pass this time.” I headed for the door.
“I thought we’d grab some dinner.”
I doubled back and kissed her cheek. “Maybe some other time.”
“Is something wrong?”
Yeah. You’re not Lexi.
Months of fucking blondes, brunettes, civilians, Navy, those two college students, that crazy woman from Jersey and I still couldn’t get over the love of my life. The sex was usually good, but always left me feeling empty.
None of them could fill the void Alexis left when she gave up on us.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just need to prepare for this chief’s exam.” That was the truth. At least part of it. I was preparing to advance to Chief Petty Officer, and I did not want to bomb this test again. But the main reason I was anxious to get out of Izzy’s room, came in today’s mail and lay on the desk down the hall in my own room.
Eight doors down and 20 seconds later, I entered my room and sat at the desk. The barracks was almost always full of activity. Loud music. Laughter. Profanity from both men and women. None of it bothered me. But the weekly room inspections and lack of privacy were the reason I’d recently signed a lease for an apartment off-base.
Bobby Joe Johnson wasn’t a bad roommate. He wasn’t messy and didn’t have a stick up his ass. Although I enjoyed our discussions about women and work, I wasn’t in the mood for conversation today, which is why I was glad the room was empty.
I picked up the papers on my desk which had been crumpled to a ball. Two stapled pages with one of those bumpy circles at the bottom which meant it was an official document. I studied it, probably for the tenth time since I’d received it this afternoon. Nothing had changed since the last time I looked at it. Big words and legal jargon. My name. My wife’s name and some mumble jumble bullshit about a divorce.