Damned (SOBs Book 4)

by Irish Winters

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “There’s no such thing as barely pregnant, sweetheart. We did it, we made another baby.”

  “And it’s a boy?”

  That made her laugh. “It’s too early to tell. We’ll both have to wait thirty-nine more weeks, because I’m not going to ask. I want to be surprised.” She took firm hold of his hard head, licked his lips, and ordered, “Now kiss me, damn it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cupping her jaw, Kruze melded their mouths together in a fervent kiss of passion and love. His entire world zeroed down on the woman with her fingers in his hair and his baby in her belly. There was nothing better to fight or live for. He finally understood the lesson he’d been bumping his heart and soul against all his life. For so long he’d kicked against the pricks, never learning, never willing to learn, and thinking he knew it all. Yet all along, what he’d been searching for was this right here, this woman. This brand-new family.

  While his body automatically set a gentle pace, thrusting up into her luscious heat, then withdrawing slowly, Kruze poured everything he had to give into their kiss. Kee-rist, he ached to ask Bree to marry him now that they knew they were pregnant. That would make waking up today perfect.

  But she’d already turned him down once, and Kruze didn’t know if his heart could take another hit. He ran his hands over her back down to her bare ass and held her half-naked body tightly to him, sealing them for all time. With her in his arms, he could breathe. He would live and set up house with her. Somehow, some day, he’d find a way to convince her to marry him. SEALs didn’t quit, but sometimes, they were smart enough to know when to wait and when to charge. At last, he just might be smart enough.

  He flexed his fingers possessively over that sweet ass, feeling better with every little mewl breathing out of Bree. The scent of their lovemaking lifted up between their bodies.

  “Ouch. You need to trim your nails. You’re scratching me,” she whispered.

  “I am? Damn. Sorry.” Kruze lifted both hands from under the blanket to check if he had a hangnail or something.

  Bree tipped back on her haunches, still very much connected to him. Her breasts jiggled as she shook all those blonde curls over his chest. Kruze lost track of what he’d been doing. She looked different today. Her hair was full of bounce and shine. Best of all, the ends of those curls were right now cupping the tips of her breasts, teasing him. That blouse had to go.

  He’d barely attacked the first button at her collar when his heart stuttered. There was something shiny on his left hand. A ring? He brought it close to his face to see it better. No stone. Just a simple gold band. His focus changed from examining the ring close-up, to examining Bree’s pretty face. Her entire bottom lip was caught between her teeth. Trepidation glimmered in those sly baby blues.

  “You have something to tell me?” he asked, his heart hammering.

  “No. Well, maybe. Okay, yes, but you already asked me to marry you, and I already asked you, and if that blonde nurse sashays her big behind in here one more time to give you a sponge bath—!”

  Kruze lifted his face to the ceiling and laughed. “So you’ll marry me?” he asked, those pesky tears running down his cheeks.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes,” Bree said as she buried her face in the corner of his neck, peppering him with warm, wet kisses.

  Kruze choked. He had the woman he wanted, and he was falling apart. He should be laughing, but he was crying. This joy thing was a whole new experience. He didn’t know how to handle the continual sensation of falling in love. But he’d give it one helluva try.

  Tugging her chin up, he pressed a moist kiss to her lips, then proceeded to get serious about why she was under his blanket. Kruze let her keep her shirt, but shoved his hands beneath it, pushed her bra up under her chin, and cupped her breasts. The moment his palms filled with all that tender flesh, he was in heaven. Her nipples were peaked and hard as diamonds, easy to find. Running the pads of his thumbs over them, he made love to her mouth and her breasts while she made the sweetest, gentlest love to his cock. Licking his way over her tongue, Kruze let Bree ride him as long as she needed. There was nothing better than her knees gripping his hips while she worked him carefully up and down. She was dripping wet. He was certainly willing. The bed was squeaking and…

  “Kruze,” Bree growled into his mouth, her voice vibrating with feral need. She tipped back, her blonde hair flying over her shoulders, and her magnificent breasts out of his hands and on display. Her fingers went to her shirt button, but before she ripped them off and exposed herself anymore, he grabbed her hands and plastered them to his chest.

  “Ride me, sugar. Do whatever you want to me, but don’t strip for me. Not here. Not now. I don’t want anyone else seeing your gorgeous ass. I’m your man. Your only man. Fuck, I’m your slave. Whip me. Beat me. Just don’t ever leave me.” His hips flexed upward, meeting every one of her downward slams. Kee-rist! He loved the slapping sound their bodies made when they were skin-to-skin. “Give it to me, woman. Come for me.”

  With a growling, whining moan, Bree arched backward while her heat pushed forward, sucking him deeper into her core. Her knees clenched. Every muscle in her body stiffened. “K-Kruze,” she moaned. “More. Give me more.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He reclaimed her breasts and thumbed those nipples, tugged and stretched them until—at last—Bree squirmed and came all over him. Grinding herself into him, strangling his cock.

  This was heaven on earth. He couldn’t hold back. Like a love-starved teenager in the middle of his first wet dream, Kruze shot all he had into her. His hands moved to her ass where he could hold Bree tighter. Better. Grinding bone against bone, he kept the fiery connection, letting her come back to Earth easy. When she was ready.

  Women’s orgasms were never one and done. Men’s were fireworks blasted into the sky, and then, within seconds, they were over. Women’s were more like sunrises. They burst over a man, lit him up, burned him down, then lingered, warm and sweet. Even now, Bree’s aftershocks rippled through her core, down the insides of her legs and up her belly. Her nipples tightened as her body reminded his that she needed this connection to last a little longer.

  At last, Bree sighed. Her ravished body went limp, and she melted over him, her arms alongside his body and her long fingers tucked under his ass. Her head settled under his chin, which mashed her breasts onto his chest.

  “We still need to tell Robin you’re her daddy,” she whispered.

  Kruze inhaled deeply, the scent of sublime satisfaction complete. “We do. As soon as we go home.”

  “Whose home? Yours or mine?”

  “Not Maine,” he mumbled, the serenity of this moment hard to resist. He closed his eyes and let peace wash over him. “Never Maine. Can’t ask you to live there. Not anymore.”

  “Chance wants us to move to Montana with him and Pagan. He says that’s where you belong.”

  Kruze nodded as sleep began dragging him under. Us, huh? Montana, huh? For the first time in ages, that didn’t sound so bad. “Whatever you say, sugar.”

  Chapter Forty

  Robin looked adorable walking sedately down the center aisle of the makeshift chapel Kruze’s brothers had generously created in Chance’s barn. Her hands were clasped in front of her. Her dress was white. Pink ribbons were woven through her curly hair. A gazillion fairy lights covered the sturdy beams overhead, making her pretty green eyes sparkle and her black hair shine.

  The sight brought tears to Kruze’s eyes. Go figure, him a big, tough Navy SEAL, crying over a little girl. Better yet, she now knew he was her father. That had to have been the easiest talk ever. But then, he suspected, at some level, she’d already made the connection. Damn, she was smart, further proof she took after her mother.

  Robin walked like a princess, with her chin up and rarely glancing to the left or right, as if she knew peasants were watching. Until she caught sight of him. Like a kid shot out of grade school at recess, the regal pretense fell awa
y, and Robin ran to him, her arms pinwheeling while she yelled, “Daddy! My Daddy!”

  If those words weren’t enough to send him on another crying jag, Kruze didn’t know what would. The second she flung herself into his arms and snuggled under his chin, he lost it. Kruze bowed his face into her coconut-scented hair, thinking he could hide his tears.

  But once again Robin shattered his manly resolve by patting his chest and announcing to the world with her usual, rowdy enthusiasm, “Hi, everybody! This is my Daddy, and I’m his best girl, and I love him more than anyone else! Well, ’cept for Mommy and Nana and Grampa!”

  Everyone clapped. Senator Sullivan outright laughed. Kruze’s buddy, Julio Juarez and his wife Meg, grinned at him. The little guy sitting in Julio’s arms had to be Dom. Kruze knew the story of how Julio and Meg had rescued that little guy from his asshat father, the sadist from Brazil, Domingo Zapata. Now there was a miracle for you. That a vile snake like Zapata had fathered an angel like Dominic meant there was still hope for the world. Dom giggled and waved. Of course, Robin waved back at him, and just that fast, an innocent, new friendship was born.

  The guys from Kruze’s SEAL Team gave him their chins or nods of approval. They knew what he’d lived through in Panama. That they’d each brought their wives or girlfriends with them told Kruze they’d moved on, too.

  Even the mostly teenage waitstaff lingering by the giant buffet table in the corner grinned and joked with each other while Kruze quietly fell apart. Thank fuck! His days of empty, one-night stands were over. He had everything, his woman and daughter living under the same roof with him. Sharing breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. Learning each other’s likes and dislikes, preferences and quirks. After this official ceremony, it’d be legal. Robin was already his daughter, Bree would finally be his wife, and he’d be their devoted slave for the rest of his days.

  Walker Judge picked that tearful moment to enter through the barn door. His wife Persia squeezed in beside him and fluttered her fingers at Kruze. Damned if Walker didn’t come to a full stop, throw his shoulders back, and send Kruze a sharp, crisp salute, Navy style. No one else saw the show of loyalty performed in the shadowy dark at the back of the barn. But the respect from that particular SEAL hit Kruze hard.

  While still active duty, Walker had been thrown to the wolves by his Navy superiors. Jailed, condemned to Leavenworth on bogus charges, Walker had been hunted by the asshats from the International Criminal Court for war crimes he’d never committed. Yet there he stood now, a free man, working for Alex Stewart’s TEAM, and honoring a brother.

  Goosebumps roared over Kruze’s shoulders and up the back of his neck. He jostled Robin to his other arm and returned the salute. Which caused everyone else to turn around to see what they were missing. By that time, the moment had passed. Walker and Persia just smiled at everyone, waved at Robin, and grabbed a couple seats.

  As if he needed another kick in the heart, some joker flung those same barn doors aside and in strode the USMC bastard from Alexandria, Virginia. Alex Stewart. Kruze had worked with him in Ireland, of all countries, that time to get justice for Walker Judge. Alex sent Kruze a sharp nod of acknowledgment, which was more than he usually offered. But the gorgeous brunette at his side, his wife Kelsey, sent Kruze a real smile and a fluttery, feminine wave. How Alex deserved that classy woman, Kruze hadn’t a clue. But then, he didn’t deserve Bree, either.

  When the barn doors opened wider, Kruze’s fist went to his mouth. He blinked. Alex’s whole damned TEAM was there. Mark Houston, Harley Mortimer, Zack Lennox. My God, Cassidy, Izza and Connor, Rory and Ember, too. Shit, it was getting harder and harder to see through his tears. Kruze wiped a quick hand over his face.

  The famous fearsome threesome ducked in next: Taylor Armstrong, Gabe Cartwright, and Maverick Carson. Every agent had their wives with them, some had brought their kids. Lee Hart. Adam Torrey. Hunter Christian and… Wait. Was that Eric Reynolds? It was, and he’d brought Shea and their triplets. One after one, Alex Stewart’s TEAM agents took a seat, then sent a grin or a thumbs-up Kruze’s way.

  He was speechless. They could’ve been his TEAM. There was a time he’d deliberated quitting Sullivan for Stewart. Back then, he’d thought he’d needed space from his brothers. He’d thought he’d needed distance from their joined history, to break loose and start over. But he’d thought wrong.

  It hit him hard as Kruze realized he already belonged to a family. A damned big family of brothers and sisters, and there they were. Kee-rist, Beau Villanueva and Renner Graves had just ducked inside. And Jameson Tenney with his pretty wife! My God, they were all here supporting him just like they’d supported Walker Judge.

  Senator Sullivan, who was right then standing tall and proud at Kruze’s side, along with Chance and Pagan, his other two groomsmen, leaned into Kruze’s shoulder and muttered, “Figured you wouldn’t mind if I invited a few of your friends.”

  “No, I…” was all Kruze could manage.

  Damned if Pagan didn’t keep wiping his face, that soft-hearted mess of a man. How he’d ever toughened up enough to make it through Hell Week was beyond Kruze. But he couldn’t begrudge Pagan his tender side. Kruze was feeling pretty tender today, too.

  Chance leaned around Pagan and gave Kruze a brotherly chin nod.

  “Also made an offer on that place in Maine,” Sullivan murmured. “You know the one. The cleaners I hired did a good job. Now you’ve got one less thing to worry about. Consider it my wedding gift to you kids.”

  Kruze turned to Sullivan and shook his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

  For that he and Robin got pulled into a fatherly hug. “Don’t mention it.” Sullivan slapped his back while Kruze wondered how he’d lost control of—Kee-rist, everything! He’d never planned on keeping the house where Harvey Lantz had met his end. Hadn’t asked Bree to even consider such an awful thing. She deserved better, and Kruze now knew that he did, too. He just hadn’t expected Sullivan to step in and take the burden off his shoulders.

  The Sinclair home in Montana was big enough to house three growing families, and Kruze did own one of the four lavish wings. But this time, when he’d gone home like Chance had suggested, things were different. He’d found a deeper appreciation in living close to his brothers. They were the Sin Boys once again, ready to rumble, but just as ready to kick back and stay home with their families. Kruze already adored Suede and Remmie, but Paloma? Well, that was another challenge for another day. He owned every last one of his past mistakes, including his ego in ever thinking he stood a chance with her. But who would’ve ever guessed she’d had her sights set on Pagan back then?

  At last, Bree stepped out from the enclosed bridal area, aka the flowery, fairy-light decorated horse stall, and walked to the center of the back of the chapel. Brandon stood smartly in his tux at her side. Lark, her only bridesmaid, walked a few steps ahead of her.

  Bree made a stunning bride. She was so damned beautiful, Kruze ached just looking at her. She’d chosen a cream-colored gown with long lace sleeves. His gaze fell to the scoop neckline that dipped just low enough to entice the hell out of him. It showcased her plump breasts, and she’d gained weight living with him these last two months, but damn… He couldn’t remember if she’d told him if it was organza or silk, and he didn’t care. Both would end up on the floor in Cozumel later tonight.

  “Mommy’s so pretty!” Robin whispered, her hands clasped together under her chin.

  “Yes, she is,” he whispered back. He wished Bree had chosen a see-through veil, though. Something gossamer or transparent. This one was made of the same fabric as her dress. He couldn’t see through it, and he’d very much wanted to watch her eyes on him as she took every step of her chosen walk into their life together.

  When she finally landed at his side, Kruze knelt and set Robin on her feet. “You remember what to do, right?” he whispered.

  She giggled. “Of course! I’m a good girl.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said as he l
ifted his head and looked at his bride. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Bree were wearing buck teeth under that veil, or witch’s warts, just to make him laugh. But he wasn’t prepared when he lifted her veil and—

  Kruze felt like he’d been slapped. Gawddamnit. More tears! There she was. The Bree with the short, curly, red hair from Paris. His Bree.

  “Hi, there, stranger. Remember me?” she asked coyly.

  “Kee-rist, yes!” Kruze took hold of her shoulders, but couldn’t hold back. He bowed his head, put his face in the corner of her neck, and let the waterworks flow. Why fight it? “I love you so gawddamned much. You’re beautiful, Bree. I could never forget you.”

  Robin tugged at his tuxedo pants leg. “Don’t cry, Daddy. Please, don’t cry. You’ll be okay. Want a tissue? I got extras.”

  “Of course you do, darling.” A stupid laugh burst out of him. Kruze took her offering and wiped his eyes, blinking like an idiot, as the two very best second chances in his whole fucked-up life worried about him. The daughter he adored with every beat of his heart was comforting him. Him. A Navy SEAL! And she’d brought tissues. God, he loved his girls.

  Kruze knelt and gathered Robin into his arm, then pulled her mother in tight. Robin wrapped both arms around his neck and squeezed, grunting and shaking, as she gave him her all. Bree whispered, “I’ve always loved you, honey.”

  “I know,” he said as his voice cracked. But love was such a little word for the immense feelings swelling Kruze’s heart. He wouldn’t be surprised if the dam inside of him burst and spilled love and tears over everybody in the whole barn. He didn’t deserve these two angels, but God bless the fool who tried to take them away from him.

  The preacher cleared his throat. Someone in the back started clapping, had to be Walker. The entire damned audience joined in. Even cute little Robin giggled and clapped, like this was the best day of her life. Which it sure as hell was.