Chapter Eight
One minute Willow had been dancing and the next a shoving match erupted between two drunk guys fighting over who got the next dance with Felicity.
Then Decker was propelling them both out the door. But when his hand left hers and locked around that guy’s neck, pinning him to the wall with as much effort as it took to crush a fly, Willow clapped a hand over her mouth.
God, he was strong.
And hot as hell.
But she definitely didn’t want to see how this ended.
Decker only held the guy for a loaded moment before he released him. Turning to Willow, his warm hand landed on her lower back, urging her and Felicity outside with military precision.
Outside, Willow gulped in the cold winter air, her heart racing from the sudden violence. “Oh my god, Decker! What is going on?”
But he was already moving them toward the Black Heart truck, his head swinging left and right as he scanned the parking lot like he expected more trouble to materialize from the shadows.
The focused intensity radiating from him was both reassuring and unsettling—this wasn’t the quiet, thoughtful man who read books in his spare time.
This was someone else entirely. Someone dangerous.
And panty-meltingly hot.
“Felicity, did you drive tonight?” His tone was rough.
“No. The ladies picked me up.”
“Text them and let them know we’re giving you a ride and you’re safe.”
As they drove Felicity home, a thousand questions crowded her mind. How had he moved so fast?
She’d known he was military, but seeing him in action was something else entirely. In a blink, he had assessed the threat, neutralized it and extracted them from the situation. It was over in seconds.
Felicity let out a small chuckle. “I think the girls and I will be skipping margarita night at the Rusty Spur from now on. I just wish the town had more entertainment besides bars and churches.”
Willow twisted in the front seat, hoping her smile didn’t show her strain. “And it wasn’t even Saturday night.”
Felicity, bless her, continued to fill the silence with nervous talk. When they pulled up to her house, Decker reached for the door handle. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Sure. Talk to you tomorrow, Willow.”
After he returned, silence settled over them like a heavy blanket. Willow could feel Decker’s tension throbbing in the foot of space separating them, could see how he gripped the steering wheel just a little too tightly.
A shiver walked down her spine. “The way you put that guy up against the wall with one hand…”
His throat clicked as he swallowed hard.
“One hand.” Her voice took on the awe she felt after seeing it. “Like the man weighed nothing at all!”
“I’m not violent.” His tone was quiet and rough around the edges. He didn’t look directly at her. “I need you to know that. What you saw back there—”
“You’re a Navy SEAL,” she interrupted. “It was your job.”
She watched him processing her words, maybe surprised that she understood.
“Was my job. Unless it’s job-related, I don’t…” He broke off. “I was trying to protect you, Willow.”
“I know that.” And she did. This was the man who made her french toast and spoke to horses like they were old friends.
The way he looked at her through the darkness made something flutter deep in her belly. His earthy brown eyes burned with that raw hunger that made her breath catch.
She should be alarmed by what she’d witnessed tonight. Instead, all she could focus on was that sexy, low rumble in his voice that did dangerous things to her pulse and how he’d handled a situation that could have gone very wrong very quickly.
When he pulled up to the front door of the ranch house, he put the truck in park but left the engine running. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
It was only a few steps to the porch.
“No.” The word came out more abruptly than she intended, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. She met his gaze across the darkness. “I’m coming with you.”
“Willow—”
“To your room.” Warmth flooded her cheeks at her own boldness, but she wasn’t backing down now. “I’m coming with you, Decker.”
The silence vibrated with tension and possibility. The porch lights cast a golden light across the snowy landscape and highlighted the sharp planes of Decker’s face. A war was going on behind those eyes, but she wasn’t going to let him retreat from what he probably thought was common sense.
“You don’t want that,” he said finally.
“You’re being bossy again. Don’t tell me what I want.
” She turned in her seat to face him fully, and the movement brought her close enough that she could smell his soap, clean and masculine.
It made her want to press her face against his neck.
“Don’t treat me the way my brothers do. I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions.”
“Your brothers will—”
“Be at the bar for another hour cleaning up.” Reaching over, she covered his hand with hers, grounded by the calluses on his palm and the strength in his fingers that tightened automatically around hers as if he couldn’t stop it from happening.
“Unless…you don’t want me to come with you?”
The sound he made was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Wanting you has never been the problem.”
The admission sent need spiraling through her core. “Then what is?”
Instead of answering, he shifted the truck into drive and rolled the short distance to the lodge’s parking area.
Anticipation and nervousness warred inside her.
Neither of them moved for a moment. The weight of what they were about to do hung in the air between them.
“You’re sure about this?” His voice was rough.
She thought about all the complications this would create, about the questions her family would ask. About what could happen if things went sideways.
She was done thinking.
Because when she looked at Decker—really looked at him—all those concerns faded to background noise.
This was right.
He was right.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He was a total gentleman, opening her door and taking her hand to help her out of the truck. Their boots crunched softly on the snow-covered gravel as he led her to the door, and his hand never left hers when he guided her to his room.
Every step made it harder for her to breathe. Every foot closer to his room—to his arms, his bed—sent her desire into overdrive.
Her pulse thrummed so hard she swore he could hear it. He swung the door inward slowly, giving her time to back out.
She paused, looking into the deep pools of his eyes. Then he stepped in, their hands still linking the distance between them. He gave her a gentle tug.
By the time he closed the door with a quiet click, her hands were shaking. Not from fear…from wanting him so badly she could hardly breathe.
The next instant, his big frame was pressed against hers. His mouth found hers—hot, hungry and endless. The kiss went on and on, stealing every last ounce of oxygen until she had no choice but to break away on a gasp.
“Willow.” His voice was ragged. His thumb traced her jaw, as if memorizing the shape of her.
Her answer was to push into him for another kiss, this one greedy and reckless, her fingers bunching in the front of his shirt.
His hands were all over her—roaming up her back, dragging through her hair, then down to grip her waist…and lower to cup her ass.
“Christ, Willow. Christ.”
She made a noise of want that had him dragging her flush against his steely body. Every one of her curves molded to his muscled form and the impossibly hard bulge in the front of his jeans.
Her panties flooded. Need pulsated in her core as she kissed him back like she’d never kissed any man before him.
As she worked the buttons of his shirt, he slid his hands up her ribs to hover just below her breasts. Her nipples shrank into tight points.
She couldn’t get his shirt off fast enough. Couldn’t wait another damn minute to feel that velvety flesh under her fingers.
Reaching the last button, she let out a moan as her gaze raked over his six-pack abs and lower to the thickness riding behind his fly.
“Goddammit, Willow. I want to take this slow, but if you look at me like that, I can’t.”
“Don’t,” she rasped, going on tiptoe to capture his hard bottom lip between her teeth.
She trembled when he backed her toward the bed, his lips never leaving hers. His hands—so steady in every other situation—shook when they cupped her face, trailed down her arms and anchored at her waist.
The backs of her knees hit the mattress and Decker followed her down, walling her in with muscle. His mouth brushed hers again and again, softer now, as though he needed every taste before they crossed the line.
She tangled her hands in his hair. “Please,” she whispered against his lips, the word a broken plea and a promise all at once.
His answer was a groan, deep from his chest. For the first time in forever, Willow didn’t feel like she was falling—she was being caught.
Heat radiated through layers of clothes, and every ragged breath he took fanned against her lips.
He kissed her again, savoring her. The scrape of his jaw, the slide of his tongue, the way he whispered her name between kisses…it all left her dizzy.
She reached for his fly, but Decker caught her hand, pressing it to his chest. His heart pounded hard against her palm.
“You sure?” he rasped, eyes so deep she could drown in them.
Her answer was to arch up, kissing him hard enough to steal his breath.
A curse rumbled from him as he explored every inch of her waist, her ribs, her aching breasts.
Her gaze swept over every hard plane of muscle and scar that only made him more beautiful. She touched each one, reverent, before sliding her hands lower.
His body shuddered under her fingertips. “Love, if you keep touching me like that…” He broke off with a groan, kissing her fiercely as his hands slid under her sweater.
She gasped at his touch. He pushed her sweater up and over her head, baring her to him, and his gaze locked on her lace bra like it was the most dangerous thing he’d ever faced.