Chapter Five #2
The challenge in his voice sent a little thrill through her, a flicker of eagerness that spread like warmed honey through her insides.
She picked up the maraschino cherry from the top of her smoothie and popped it into her mouth, stem and all.
His eyes tracked the movement of her lips as she worked the stem around and around in her mouth, using her tongue to twist and manipulate it. When she opened her mouth and pulled out the stem, now tied in a perfect knot, his eyes darkened with something that had her pulse racing faster.
She set the stem on the tray. “Party trick I picked up.” She tried to sound casual despite the intensity building between them.
“Useful skill.” His voice was rougher than before.
She was reaching for another berry when a drop of syrup slipped off her fork and landed in her hair. She chuckled. “Now I’m as sticky as Navy after cake.”
“Hold still.” Before she could react, he caught the lock of hair between his fingers and thumb and gently worked it out of her hair. Which only made it stickier, she was certain, but his touch was gentle, the move tugging at a different part of her body.
His gaze locked on hers. “There,” he murmured, not moving away. His hand was still in her hair, fingers combing through the strands.
The air between them shifted, charged with something electric and inevitable. His eyes had gone dark, pupils dilated as he dropped his gaze to her mouth.
“Christ, Willow.” Her name sounded as a prayer.
“Yes?” Her own voice was a ragged breath.
Instead of answering, he cupped her face in his big, warm hand and kissed her.
It wasn’t a gentle, tentative kiss like she expected from a man as controlled as Decker.
It was hungry, desperate, seeking, like he’d been holding himself back for months and months and finally couldn’t anymore.
She gasped, responding without thinking, fisting the front of his shirt as she pulled him closer. He tasted like coffee and something distinctly male, and when his tongue swept across her lower lip, she opened for him with a soft moan.
The kiss deepened. Consuming. Necessary. He tangled his fingers in her hair, angling her head to get better access as his mouth moved over hers with pulsing intensity. She could feel the restraint he was fighting, the control he maintained even as his breathing grew harsh.
She knotted her hand in his shirt, fingertips grazing the steel muscle beneath as she kissed him back with the same need.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard. He rested his forehead against hers, his hands still framing her face as if she was precious glass.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” His voice rough with want.
“How long?” she whispered.
“A while. But since the day you stapled me back together, I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
The admission sent desire spiraling through her core. She could feel the pulse at her throat fluttering wildly, could see the way his eyes tracked the movement.
“Decker…”
“I know this complicates things.” He traced his thumb along her jawline.
“I don’t care about complicated.” The words surprised her with their vehemence, but as soon as she said them, she knew they were true.
His eyes flared with something possessive, a promise that made her stomach clench with anticipation.
“You sure about that?” His voice dropped to the low, commanding tone that had haunted last night’s dreams.
“Kiss me again and find out.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice.
* * * * *
Decker’s head spun with the taste of Willow. God, she was better than he ever imagined.
Her lips were soft and warm beneath his, and when she made that small sound of surrender in the back of her throat…
Christ, every rational thought fled his mind.
He’d been holding himself back for months, keeping his distance, pretending he didn’t notice the way her eyes lingered on him or how she found excuses to touch his arm when they talked.
He told himself it was Willow being Willow. That she wasn’t flirting, wasn’t interested.
But the way she kissed him back? There was no pretending now. Not with her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer like she couldn’t get enough either.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers as he mapped the sweetness of her mouth. She tasted like maple syrup and promises, like everything he’d been denying himself since the day he’d arrived at this ranch broken and hollow.
When she pulled back slightly, her breathing ragged, he was already missing the contact. Her gray eyes were dark with desire, and her lips were swollen from his own. Beautiful. Perfect.
A throat cleared behind them.
Decker’s blood turned to ice as he straightened, automatically moving to put himself between Willow and whoever walked in. When he turned, Carson stood in the library doorway, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Fuck.
“She had something in her hair.” Decker’s explanation sounded weak even to his own ears.
Carson’s eyebrow arched. “That doesn’t explain her lips though.”
He clenched his jaw. “Yeah.”
The single word hung in the air between them like an admission. Because what else could he say? That he’d been fighting his feelings for months?
That kissing Willow felt like coming home and going to war all at once?
Willow let out a nearly inaudible groan but thankfully didn’t try to explain.
“Come with me.” Carson’s tone brooked no argument. “I need to see you in the office.”
Willow shot to her feet and smoothed down her hair that Decker’s hands had mussed into delicious, sexy disarray.
“Carson, you’re overreacting.” Her cheeks were flushed, whether from embarrassment or arousal, Decker couldn’t tell, but his gut clenched at the sight.
“It’s not about that.” Carson’s gaze never left Decker’s face. “Business.”
Decker’s gaze collided with Willow’s for only a milli-heartbeat. If he looked into her beautiful eyes longer, he didn’t trust himself not to blurt things better left unspoken.
Carson twitched his head for him to follow, and Decker ducked out, leaving Willow with a look in her eyes that damn near made him turn back.
The walk to the office felt like a death march. Decker’s mind raced through possibilities, none of them good. Maybe Carson was about to tell him to pack his bags. Maybe the team had decided he was too unstable. Maybe—
Denver, Colt and Theo were already seated in various poses around the office.
This wasn’t some impromptu conversation. This was planned.
“Sit.” Carson gestured to the chair across from his desk.
“I’ll stand. Old habits and all.”
Carson didn’t push it. “You said you wanted on the team.”
“I do.”
“If you want on the team, you have to pass the tests. All of them.”
Decker’s pulse quickened, but not with fear. In anticipation. “What kind of tests?”
“The kind that prove you can handle yourself in the field.” Theo pushed off the well-broken-in leather sofa and stepped forward, studying Decker with calculating eyes. “Starting with shooting.”
Twenty minutes later, they stood at the ranch’s shooting range. The Black Heart Ranch was a huge spread, and the Malones had cleverly built the range in a hollow between rises so the gunshots were muffled and wouldn’t trigger the vets.
The Sunday morning air was crisp and sharp, which helped clear Decker’s head. Not only was he shocked to be taken seriously by the Malone brothers, he was still reeling after kissing their baby sister.
Theo handed him a Glock 19, standard issue for the team.
Theo pointed to the target. “Ten rounds.”
The weight of the pistol felt familiar in Decker’s hands. He hadn’t held a weapon since he left his SEAL team, but muscle memory took over as he checked the magazine, chambered a round and settled into his stance.
As he raised the weapon and took aim…
Fuck. He was right back there again, listening to Delilah’s voice cutting out mid-transmission.
Then he remembered why he was being tested, and his mind went quiet. This wasn’t Afghanistan. This wasn’t a life-or-death extraction gone wrong. This was just him, the target and ten rounds to prove he belonged here.
The first shot rang out, clean and true. Center mass.
Nine more followed in quick succession, striking the targets lined up at the back of the range, each one finding its mark. When the last shot found the center ring on the target, Decker lowered the weapon and turned to Theo.
“Pass,” Theo said simply, but there was approval in his voice.
“What’s next?” He had no doubt that he’d pass the test, yet he still felt pleasure wash through him.
“Physical. Doc’s waiting in the infirmary.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Can’t have an old injury pop up.”
They returned to the lodge. As Decker headed to the infirmary, Theo gave him a single nod.
Dr. Stanford looked up from his clipboard when Decker entered. “Physicals. My favorite,” he said dryly, eyes creasing with amusement. “Strip down to your underwear.”
He sounded far too cheerful about the prospect, reminding him of being put through similar tests when he joined the Navy. And even more tests when he applied for BUD/S training to become a SEAL.
The examination was thorough. When the doctor spotted the still-healing knife wound on Decker’s shoulder, he paused.
“What happened here?”
Decker stared at him in answer.
Dr. Stanford nodded slowly, understanding that he wasn’t going to get a direct answer from him.
“Decent work on these staples.” He probed gently around the edges. “Tell me you didn’t do this yourself.”
“Willow did it.”
The doctor went still, then issued a chuckle. “Is there anything Willow can’t do?”
The question hit Decker harder than it should have. Because the answer was no—there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do. Fix wounds, manage a ranch, hold a family together…
Make him want to be a better man than he’d ever thought possible.
“Healing nicely.” The doctor moved away to scribble notes on his chart. “You’re cleared for field work.”