Buck

Chapter 7

Katherine “Kat”Cross sat across from her husband, Orion “Wicked” Cross and pushed away her plate. Wicked looked at her and then her half-uneaten breakfast. His brows rose. “You’re not going to finish your bacon?”

She shook her head, feeling a bit off. Maybe she was working too hard.

He set down his phone and snagged the last of her bacon. “You look tired, babe. When was the last time we got away?”

She scoffed. “For a vacation. Ha, what does that word even mean?”

He smiled, crunching the last bit between his teeth. The man had the most powerful jaw and beautiful mouth. The way she felt about him hadn’t diminished one whit. “I see something tropical in our future. Let me see when we cycle out, and I can put in for some leave.”

She brightened. “Drinks with little umbrellas that are served by a pool. Count me in. I’ll check my schedule as soon as you know when.” She rubbed at her stomach, got up, and got a bottle of water out of the fridge. She leaned against the counter. “How’s it going with your new CO, Lieutenant Rodriquez?”

Wicked shrugged. “He has big shoes to fill after Ruckus and Hollywood.”

It was true. She’d recently worked with Hollywood, and the man was on top of everything. He’d once been an enlisted member of Ruckus’s team, but there were only three of the original members left in the squad. Bowie “Ruckus” Cooper had been promoted to Lieutenant Commander, Jude “Hollywood” Lock to Commander. Wes “Cowboy” McGraw had left the service a few years ago to head back to Texas with his wife, Kia, and their menagerie of animals to run his family’s ranch. Thorn “Tank” Hunt and his wife Alyssa had moved to San Antonio, Texas, to train Belgian Malinois for the military, and Ocean “Blue” Beckett had been accepted into the medical service officer program. He was a doctor now. The two remaining SEALs, Ash “Kid Chaos” Wilder and Arlo “Scarecrow” Porter were still going strong with Wicked, but she knew he missed his brothers. They were all settled. Ruckus and his wife Dana had two daughters, and Kid Chaos and his wife Piper, a girl and a boy, and she’d heard Tank and his wife Alyssa were expecting.

She and Wicked had discussed it several times, but Kat wasn’t ready. She knew he was ready—really ready to have children, but she just felt…torn. Did she want to juggle her CIA career with children, and would that even work with Wicked deploying a good part of the year? If they decided it was time, and that time was running out, she may have to do some serious thinking about her future with the agency. One thing for sure was fieldwork would have to be out.

She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get going,” she said as she rose and kissed him goodbye.

The minute she got to work, Russ Watson, the DEA agent she was working with, caught her at the elevator. “You’ve got to see this,” he said. “We caught a break.”

She followed him to a room and when he cued up the surveillance tape, her mouth tightened. She picked up the phone and dialed. When the call went through, she said, “We’ve got a problem.”

* * *

Buck woke very earlythe next morning to the gray half-light before dawn, getting used to the wonderful weight in his arms before he even opened his eyes.

She had blindsided him at Windsor, taken off like a spooked horse, with his sister’s dress no less. She was an intriguing mix between tough and vulnerable. Gently catching her by the back of her head, he carefully repositioned her weight on his shoulder, flexing his fingers to work out the pins and needles. She stirred and rolled to her side. He took the opportunity to press against her from behind, his morning wood thickened and tightened, his balls throbbing. It had been a relief to finally slake the lust that had been riding him hard since he’d met her.

And if he wasn’t careful, that lust was going to overrule his common sense…maybe it already had.

“Is that a banana or are you just glad to see me,” she murmured sleepily.

He grinned, getting a charge out of how she’d caught him unaware, not only physically, but she was light-hearted, and he really liked that in a partner. He gave her a little squeeze. She rolled over, her eyes still closed. She smiled. Reaching out, her hand landed on his abs, and she played her fingers over the ridges. “These are impressive, by the way, but not a banana.” With a light trail of her fingers, she caressed him all the way down to his huge, rock-hard erection, but skipped over it to cup his aching balls. Buck clenched his jaw, the pleasure so intense it made his whole body respond.

“Hmmm, nice, but still no banana.” Her fingers wrapped tight around the straining length of him. She pushed up on her elbow. “What do we have here? Doesn’t feel like a banana, no curve,” she said in mock confusion.

“It’s not a banana.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” She caressed the length of him with her eyes, and without warning, straddled his hips. He suddenly felt ravenous, greedy, demanding. He snagged the back of her neck and pulled her down against him, her breasts connecting with his chest, warm and yielding. He wanted to touch her everywhere at once, to drown all of his five senses with her essence and sensuality.

Her mouth was so close to his, he ached for her lips, but she braced her hands on either side of his head, and rocked sinuously against his thick, throbbing dick. Her eyes were closed, and her head dropped back. “Damn you, woman,” he breathed. Watching Mari lost in her pleasure was an incredibly arousing sight, but Buck wanted so much more.

She dipped down and brushed his mouth in a tantalizing tease of those soft lips and he slid his hands around to her ass and pulled her closer, fitting the hard ridge of his cock between her thighs. The soft, needy sound she made in the back of her throat, combined with the deliberate way she rolled her hips against his had the blood roaring in his ears and pure passion surging through his body.

“Mari,” he said, his voice hoarse, and she finally had pity on him. She pressed her lips to his, and Buck opened his mouth on her, plunging deeply, taking her into him. She took control, eating him alive, her tongue thrusting between his lips and unhinging him in seconds.

He was a prisoner, his dick going stone hard, his shoulders pulling tight as he tasted her. Savored her. Then suddenly she was gone, leaving him breathing hard. Then her hot, wet mouth was on his nipple, licking and biting, moving lower over his abs until she was kneeling in front of him.

She stared at his erection for several moments, her fingers reaching out and caressing his length with a light brush, a tantalizing tease that had him clenching his teeth and lifting his hips to the promise of those eyes, fingers, and mouth, especially that mouth. His entire body shuddered, and he clenched his fists into the sheet, finally understanding how much power this woman had over him. She stroked his shaft, teasing him some more, tormenting him with her intent. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth as she skimmed her thumb up over the tip of his sensitive head, then she finally gave him what he wanted, her silky mouth sliding over every inch of him.

He groaned at the delicious friction she created with her lips and tongue and fingers as she slid up and down his aching shaft. She added suction, and his body tensed as he fought the overwhelming urge to come.

He wanted inside her and had to have her now. It was an urgent, desperate need that drove him to reach for her and pull her back up. In a quick, powerful move, he flipped her to her back. Her eyes widened in startled surprise, then narrowed in protest, and before her shock had a chance to register or for her to argue, he pushed her knees apart and spread her wide, sweeping his hands down her smooth, supple thighs. Unable to wait another moment to fuck her, he moved up and over her body and pushed the head of his dick inside, pinning her beneath him. Their eyes met, hers filled with glittering desire, and he watched as she gasped and arched into him at his abrupt thrust.

She fit him so perfectly, like slick wet satin gripping him, so tight and sweet, it made him dizzy.

Her bare breasts were crushed against his chest, her knees bracketing his hips and the urge to possess her in the most primitive way possible overwhelmed him. Tangling his fingers in Mari’s soft, thick hair, he held her head in his hands and slanted his mouth across hers in a hot, deep kiss.

His hips moved and her hands slid to his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles as he surged into her, again and again, tearing a moan from the back of her throat. His strokes came faster and faster, longer, ruthlessly demanding until she convulsed around him. His need went ballistic. Lost in the rush of sensation, lost in her, he broke the kiss, tossed his head back in pure pleasure, and arched into her as she came again, his thrust hard and infinitely deep. He growled low and raggedly, and his entire body shuddered as he came harder and stronger than ever.

He closed his eyes as his body processed all the sensations running through every pore, his groin heavy and throbbing. She had something that weakened him, and he hated weakness almost as much as he hated being limited. It wasn’t her looks. He’d been with many beautiful women. It might have been her kiss, or the way she talked to him when he’d been injured, or his fantasy of her paling to the reality of her. She could touch him in places he didn’t even know were unguarded. They collapsed, breathing in each other, and Buck’s hand smoothed her spine as he watched her world come into focus. He fell to his side with her, nestling her in the curve of his body.

He couldn’t resist kissing her again. She left him breathless every time. This was more than two people satisfying a need. He opened his eyes, and she was staring up at him with a look that froze him solid. Fear. It was there, then gone, and he understood it in a heartbeat. That fear was all about the loss of control, and the understanding that this was something more than sex. And it was his turn to feel that fear; deep in his gut, an ingrained instinct told him she could hurt him and hurt him badly. Yet even knowing that, he couldn’t stop wanting to be with her, be inside her again.

He shook off the emotions, smiled at her, and she smiled back and snuggled against him. “I’m starving,” she whispered. “How about breakfast? My train leaves at noon. Does that work for you?”

“Works fine, darlin’.” Amusement flickered through him, and he stroked her hip. “My hope is there is no pistachio dust on the breakfast menu.” She laughed softly.

Once they got on the train after he’d gone back to his townhouse and picked up some clothes, they settled into their comfortable seats. She looked so good in her short green-and-white plaid jacket over a wheat-colored sweater, a pair of form-fitting ankle pants, and flats both in black.

“So, we seem to have teenage sisters in common,” she said. “Any other siblings?”

He nodded, warmth flowing through him along with pride. “Yeah, two brothers who both work the ranch and my sister Helen, who’s an RN and is working with Doctors without Borders.”

“Five in your family, too?”

“Is that right? Shoot, I didn’t think many people had big families anymore.”

She regarded him with a half-amused smile. “Well, as for you with all the work around your spread, our business takes a lot of manpower. Why not make it family?”

“Seems like the logical answer. I was too incapacitated when I was at La Buena Tierra, so other than your sister, the doctor?—”

“Sofia, she’s the oldest and married to Victor Morales, and they have a son and daughter, then Anna, second born, is married to Marco Quesada with one son. Then there’s me. Middle child.”

He chuckled. “Me too. Between my two brothers, Cole and Wyatt, and the two sisters.” He reached out and took her hand in his, sliding his fingers through hers.

An uneasy feeling made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and his attention slid covertly around him. No one seemed to be giving them any heed. He shifted his shoulders. His warrior instincts were usually right on par. “Go on,” he said. His senses heightened.

“Then there’s my only brother, Diego, and his wife, Fernanda, with their two daughters.”

“That’s a plantation full all right.”

“Oh, that’s not all.”

“No, who else besides your mom and dad?”

“Don Raul and Do?a Emma Navarro.” She rubbed her thumb along the back of his, and he smiled at the soft caress. “My paternal grandparents Jorge and Isabel. They still work a bit, but in a reduced capacity considering their age.”

“And your other set of grandparents?”

“Hector and Pabla Solano. He’s a prominent lawyer and my abuela entertains. They live in San Diego, so I’m vested in two countries and hold dual citizenship.”

“Bilingual too.”

She nodded. “You speak Spanish?”

“I do. French and a smattering of German.”

“Cosmopolitan man.”

“And you’re a coffee sommelier who is savvy enough to negotiate terms for real estate and set up a headquarters in San Diego. The Gaslamp Quarter is an excellent choice, by the way. Plenty of pedestrian traffic, especially now that the city created the promenade and closed the area off to vehicles.”

“My thoughts exactly. I’ve got some properties to look at when I pass back through San Diego. I have to stop in to see my grandparents.”

“If I’m available, I’d love to take you out.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “Of course. Maybe you could even meet them.”

“Maybe.” He snuggled closer to her, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing the back. “So, tell me about this sommelier job. What exactly do you do?”

“It’s a basic and extremely important process. I taste and vet the coffee before it’s made available to consumers.”

“Did you learn this all from your family?”

“Most of it. I did go to school for food science at UC Davis, and I have a Masters in Coffee from the University of Florence in Italy.”

“A Masters of Coffee? That’s something new.”

“I learned a lot. A sommelier has to know about bean origins, the roasting process, brewing process, how to distinguish aromas and flavors and how to describe them, how to experiment with blends effectively, and food pairing opportunities. We use something called the cupping process to taste, evaluate, and score our coffees. We want to sell the best possible product to our customers.”

“I like your commitment to it all, including your family. I understand how important family is, but what did you mean about your dad finally trusting you and letting you expand the brand? You have the expertise and the job title, one he obviously approved of. Why would trust be an issue?”

“My father has the burden of running La Buena Tierra, and it’s a heavy burden with all the family tradition on his back. He needs to make the right decisions, and sometimes that pressure gets to him. I can’t fail this. My family’s reputation, livelihood, and honor rests on doing a good job, promoting the right image.”

Buck thought about his dad and all the lessons he’d learned from him. Buck’s sense of his own self had been built mostly by his tough-as-nails grandfather. He had been stoic, a cowboy through and through, and he didn’t suffer fools or cowards lightly. He barely even acknowledged the death of Buck’s uncle who had been kicked in the head by a horse when Buck had been five. He’d seen the whole thing, and sometimes, even now, he had nightmares. His uncle’s death was devastating not only to the family, but Colton was his favorite uncle, taking him under his wing to learn the ropes, spending hours with him in understanding and performing the required skills. It had left a great hole in his life when he’d died.

“That sounds like an excuse, Mari. You seem to know what you’re about. Why doesn’t he see that?”

He caught her off guard. It was evident that she was harboring some anger at his words, but she cut off her reaction, evening out her voice. “Family is all there is. We are an extension of it. My father is exacting and demanding because he has to be.”

His immediate thought, one he didn’t voice because she was already on edge and he was still navigating this interesting, blossoming relationship, was that it sounded like she was brainwashed into thinking that she was nothing but a nondescript cog in the wheel of the family, that she had no independence from that entity, when what he saw was a vibrant, confident, capable woman. “It’s not what I see,” he said, unable to be completely silent. He also noted just from observations that when someone got a little too close to the truth, a person could get very defensive. Because he understood, he cut her some slack. It had nothing to do with his protective instincts for her, or the memory of how he’d been a vulnerable little boy to his grandfather’s exacting and demanding ways. Nope, he didn’t freaking do vulnerable.

He got it now, and he got it as a child, but in a more subtle way. He sensed what his grandfather wanted him to be and to rise to that expectation had been a very painful process, but deep down, it had been a survival strategy.

And she looked too damn good. He’d been in lust before and had even come close to falling a few times in his life, but he’d never once had the urge to take it any further. Bedroom, hell yes. Shower, for sure. A public place now and then, definitely. But, in the end, the need to get back to his own personal space always beckoned far more strongly than the desire to share space under one roof with someone. He chalked this up to it being a great adventure with great sex, even when he knew it was more, something he didn’t want to acknowledge twice in one day.

The awkward silence that had lasted all of a few minutes ended when Mari asked, “What was it like growing up on a ranch in Wyoming?”

“Long days, good, filling food, antics, riding, roping, calving, branding.”

“Those are things you need and do. I need more.”

“Do you? I feel that way all the time,” he murmured. Not many people actually asked him about growing up. They were more interested in him being a cowboy as if that was something hung on him like his western shirts, hat, boots, and spurs. “Growing up on a ranch was all about responsibility. We had animals that needed to be fed, cared for, exercised, and protected every day. Sweat was expected and appreciated. Ranching and cowboying are about grit and gumption, my grandfather said. He was right.” The memory of his fear came back at him, especially after his uncle was killed so suddenly.“There is great satisfaction in building, planning and overcoming obstacles. The labor, the thinking involved, filled me up. It could be tedious and repetitious. It can be violent and dangerous. It’s helping your neighbor without expecting anything in return. Its a tradition and a way of life that has meaning.” He paused and the light of interest in her eyes made him go a little further. “I did everything my dad did,” his voice got hoarse. “I took my hat off at the table like my dad, rode horses like my dad, wore the same shirts, blue jeans, and boots. The sun rose and set on my father…” He cleared his throat, his chest getting tight. “And my Uncle Colton. You learn about life, and you learn about death.” Her hand tightened in his and she pressed her shoulder against him.

“Sounds like an amazing experience that flowed over to special operations. Yes?”

“A resounding yes.” Something shifted in him, something that he never really talked about with anyone but his brothers in arms. “I remember those wet, sandy, and miserable days, the push to get a rubber boat to shore amidst towering and formidable waves, toting around logs that weighed as much as a bull. I remember Hell Week that made even my worst day at BUD/S look good. I remember that no matter the obstacles, no matter the circumstances, or weather, or lack of experience, or hard luck, or fear, I never gave up. That’s what growing up as a cowboy did for me—a willingness to keep going when facing insurmountable odds and obstacles. I think SEALs have that in spades, the human instinct for survival—the fight part.”

“Strength doesn’t come from physical capacity, but from indomitable will. It’s clear to me cowboys stick with it,” she said.

After that, they rode in companionable silence until they arrived in LA. He wasn’t sure if he gave her a lot to think about. He was just filled up by her genuine interest in the authentic nature of who he was as a man.

Once they left the train, he couldn’t help feeling something wasn’t right here, as if they were being watched. And if there was one thing Buck firmly believed in, it was following gut instinct. Even as they enjoyed sightseeing around Griffith Park, Zuma Beach, and the Santa Monica Pier, interspersed with sex as often as he got a hard-on, the back of his neck prickled. Even though there was no threat, he couldn’t shake it.

She was just as interested in sex as he was. He couldn’t get enough of fucking her. So, when he left the room on the last night before he had to go home to wait for her in the lobby for their night at the Walt Disney Concert Hall, he turned and almost swallowed his tongue. Like most red-blooded men in the vicinity, he got immediately hard. Her raven-wing hair spilled down her back in earthy tones, barely caught in some sparkling female bauble at her crown.

Then there was the dress. The tongue-swallowing dress was no more than a plunging drape of something silky and terracotta red, showing off her tanned skin, her toned muscles, and a tight ass that made him groan. Men moved around her, wanting a closer look, women gave her dirty looks, and she moved through them with the poise and grace of a woman used to this kind of attention but didn’t think it her due. With every move, the fabric clung to her curves, her nipples, showing him the lushness of her body, that hollow between her thighs.

Buck worked at staying in control, grappling with his body’s sudden need as his gaze rose past the rope of diamonds circling her throat and riding on the swell of her breasts, then to her face. He was in trouble.

He endured the concert, the ride back to the hotel, but the moment the door closed, he was undoing his pants, hiking up that dress, and fucking her until they both came. When it was time to leave, he found it very difficult and got her to promise that she would let him know when she was back in San Diego.

When he got off the train, the station and the streets were thick with people either walking fast, riding various vehicles, or impeding his progress. He maneuvered around the scents of food and gas fumes creating a haze in the air, but his mind was on her, making love to a stranger, a woman who had gotten under his skin. He didn’t want to examine why she affected him so much, but it was mutual.

As he walked, he was completely aware of everything around him, locked and loaded for anything. That sharp prickle worked up his spine and he slowed, using the glass fronts of shops to get a look behind him. Ah, there they were.

He abruptly turned down an alleyway, picking up speed so he was poised at the end when the first guy emerged. Buck set down his bag, then punched him in the face, and he went down. Without missing a beat, he got the second guy into a headlock.

Suddenly there was a squeal of tires, and he looked at the street. A tall redhead got out of the car, and his mouth tightened as he recognized her. Kat freaking Cross. What the actual fuck?

“Buck, for the love of God, stop beating up those DEA agents and get in the damn car.”

That’s when he found himself at the DEA office in San Diego sitting in front of a screen and watching every single moment of his time with Maritza Elena Solano Navarro. His eyes went over her, down all those curves one more time. Because something was going to change, and it wasn’t going to be good. There wasn’t a straight line on her—anywhere. And now he knew all those curves, every last one.

“Why the fuck were you following me?” he growled, his anger rising ready to spill over and burn the place down.

Kat turned to him, her mouth tight and her eyes solemn as Joker entered the room. She glanced at him, then said, “We weren’t following you.” She turned back to the screen. “We were following her.”

His whole body went on red-hot alert, slipping into warrior mode. Even as he wanted to protect her from anything that could hurt her, his hands were being tied. Buck didn’t do well with limitations. And for the first time in his Naval service, he felt goddamned limited. His heart collapsed, and that anger had nowhere to go. It sat in his gut like a lead weight.

Was she the enemy now?