by Kaylea Cross
“Come on in,” he told Sierra, who followed him into his kitchen.
He hadn’t slept for shit after she left the other night, cursing himself for what he’d said and done—for wanting way more—and stewing about what had happened to Ella. He’d had multiple nightmares, to the point where he’d finally downed half a bottle of Jack to make himself pass out.
Last night had been the same, except for the alcohol. He’d opted for a pot of hot coffee instead, and catching up on work. She’d been on his mind constantly. This morning they’d both spent another few hours at the sheriff’s department, answering more questions and giving their official statements before heading to work. Now it was early afternoon.
Can we talk?
Her text an hour ago had frozen him on the way out of a jobsite. He’d wanted to say no. Almost had. After the other night, it was dangerous for them to be here alone. His defenses against her were already too weak. But they needed to talk things through and limit the damage done. He owed her at least that much.
She stopped in front of the sink and turned to face him. “Let me see your hand.” She held out hers expectantly, palm up. She’d been a bit shaken when everything had first happened the other night, but seemed fine today.
“My hand’s fine.”
She arched an eyebrow and wiggled her fingers. “As a medical professional, I’ll be the judge of that.”
Resigned, he stuck out his hand for her to examine. “Nothing’s broken.” He’d broken plenty of bones to know the difference.
She grasped it gently, checking it. And just that innocent touch turned him on. “I agree, I don’t think there’s any fractures,” she said, taking a closer look at his knuckles. “But it’s swollen and bruised and gonna be sore for at least a week. Come with me.”
Before he could protest she’d curled her fingers around his wrist and led him over to the couch. Across the room, Walter stopped snoring long enough to open one eye and look at him from the dog bed Beckett had put in front of the fireplace, then went right back to sleep.
“He’s such a character,” Sierra said with a chuckle.
“Yeah. He’s got so much personality,” he said in a bland tone.
“Okay, sit,” she ordered him, tugging on his wrist. He sat, albeit reluctantly, stayed put while she went back to the kitchen and came back a minute later with a makeshift icepack, some water and ibuprofen.
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” he muttered.
“Beckett.” She gave him a hard look. “Do me a favor, take the damn pill and be quiet.”
He made a face but took the pill and allowed her to wrap his hand up with the ice on the back of it. She sank beside him onto the couch, and even though he’d already decided on his course of action for them he was still torn between grabbing her and kissing her until she melted, and getting up and walking away.
Putting distance between them was the smart thing to do, but then, nobody had ever accused him of being a genius. “So about the other night,” he began.
She set an elbow on the back of the couch and propped her head in her hand. “Which part?”
Damn, she apparently wasn’t going to make this easy on him. He’d start at the beginning. “Sorry I lost my cool like that. With Brian.” Well, that she’d seen it. He definitely didn’t regret punching that asshole.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad we caught him in time. Mostly I’m glad he’s been charged, and you haven’t.”
“I knew she wasn’t hanging around here just for the hell of it. Just never imagined it was because of anything like that.” Shit, he should have figured it out sooner. All the signs were there. How had he not put the pieces together?
“Me either.” She shook her head. “I hate thinking about what would have happened if she hadn’t told us.”
“I know. What about you, you okay?” His gut told him the incident had dredged up something ugly for her.
She nodded but looked at the floor rather than at him. “It just…brought up some things for me.”
His focus sharpened. “What things?”
Her eyes were so incredibly blue. “Did Noah ever tell you about our Uncle Tom?”
“No.”
“He was a friend of my parents, not really our uncle. Anyway…” She blew out a breath. “Something about him always gave me the creeps. The way he looked at me, the feeling I got when he hugged me.”
Beckett’s insides tightened. He already didn’t like where this was going.
“I never said anything, because I thought it was just me. Then one weekend, he babysat us while my parents were out of town. My best friend was staying over with us. He knew her, and I didn’t like the way he looked at her either. In the middle of the night I heard him come down the hall and I was sure he was coming to my room.”
He forced himself to remain still. To not react even though a growl was building in his throat.
“But he walked past, to the room where my friend was sleeping. She always liked to stay in the guest room because we had a four-poster bed in there. I usually slept in it with her when she stayed over, but that night for some reason I wanted to be in my own room. I heard him open the guestroom door.” She swallowed, tucked her knees up. “I heard muffled cries. I was scared, so I ran to get Noah.”
“How old were you?”
“Eight.”
Hell.
“I followed Noah to the door. And when he threw it open, we saw Uncle Tom holding my naked friend in front of him on the bed. He had a hand over her mouth and the other around her neck. His pants were down. We got there literally seconds before he raped her.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah. It was awful. Noah went crazy and attacked him. Tom ran out, bleeding. The police found him a mile from our house. They hauled Noah and me in for questioning while my friend went to the hospital. Everything was a mess. My friend was never the same again.”
He could imagine. “What did your parents do?”
“After Tom was arrested they severed ties with him and we never saw him again. There was some friction between our parents and Noah for a while after. And with me, too, because they refused to talk about it. They wanted to just move on and pretend it never happened.”
Beckett had never known that. It shocked him, actually. The Buchanans had always seemed like the ideal family to him.
“Tom was arrested for raping another girl about a decade ago. I heard he died in jail a few years back. Hanged himself.”
“He never touched you?” It was killing him.
She shook her head, adamant. “No. At least, not in an overtly sexual way. But whenever he did, it made my skin crawl. Even as a child I sensed his intent, saw something wrong in the way he looked at me. Hearing Ella the other night made me furious and sick, because it made me feel helpless all over again.”
Beckett’s free hand curled into a fist and he clenched his molars together. Yeah. He knew how that felt.
She gave him a startled look. “Are you grinding your teeth?”
He grunted. It burned him to know she had ever gone through anything like that, even more so because the offender had been a family friend. Beckett had never heard the story before.
“Noah was my protector, even back then.”
“Good thing I didn’t know about Tom at the time,” Beckett said. He would have been the same age as Noah at the time it happened. He would have torn Tom apart.
“Me too. After what I saw last night, I can just imagine what you would’ve done if he’d attacked me.”
“I would always protect you,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “If you were ever in trouble, I would be there. I’d do whatever it took to make sure you were safe.” Even if it’s me I need to protect you from.
Her expression softened, a little smile playing about the edges of her mouth that he wanted to feel under his. That taste the other night hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough. And he was afraid that when it came to her, nothing ever would be. Another reason
to shore up the crumbling boundary between them. “I know you would. And I love that about you. That you care more than you let people think you do.”
She wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t really understand. He sighed. “I’ve seen things happen to kids that I can’t forget.” He wasn’t going to elaborate, because he didn’t want her to have the same images in her head that haunted him. “Things I couldn’t do anything about at the time. It made me feel sick inside.”
She searched his eyes. “While you were overseas?”
He nodded. “You saw Ella the other night. The way she wouldn’t look at us. As though she was ashamed. As though it was her fault.” He pushed out a deep breath, the cold in his hand becoming an ache now. “What happened over there stayed with me. It drove us all crazy not to be able to protect those kids, or at least stop the abuse. Trust me, I would have shot every last one of those sick bastards if it wouldn’t have landed me and my guys in Leavenworth for the rest of our lives.”
She reached for his uninjured hand, curled her fingers around it. “I’m sorry. Ella was lucky. And to be honest, I was damn relieved that her mom believed us right away. Sometimes the parents side with the abuser and make everything worse.”
“True. Tiana’s a great mom.” One side of his mouth kicked up. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish your brother had let her have a go at the guy.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I wish he had too.” Then she tipped her head to the side, considering him for a long moment. “You look like you need a hug.”
He stiffened, opened his mouth to protest, but she was already winding her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder.
At the feel of her, the walls around his heart crumbled a little more. He’d had a bitch of a past forty-eight hours, and only Sierra had made it bearable. But blurring the line between friends and lovers any more wasn’t fair to her. She didn’t know the truth about him. Wouldn’t want him if she understood just how badly his soul was stained, all the baggage he carted around.
He wouldn’t do that to her. Letting her go and putting some distance between them was the right thing to do. It was what he’d meant to do when he’d agreed to come back here and talk.
Except now that she was holding him, it was the last thing he wanted to do, and he was scrambling to recall all the reasons why he should pull away.
She smelled incredible, felt perfect pressed against his side, and dammit, he was so damn tired of holding back. Of punishing himself for his failures and carrying his heavy load alone.
Shit.
With a sigh he wound his arms around her and turned slightly, bringing her against his chest. She made a contented sound and snuggled closer, making his heart squeeze.
This was exactly what he’d needed, and again he found himself questioning all the reasons why he should stay away from her. They had history together, a lifetime of friendship—his intentionally pulling away the past while notwithstanding—solidified by his bond to her brother and parents. She also didn’t fully understand what she would be getting into by entering a relationship with him.
But dammit, his desire for her was too strong, and threatened to overtake everything else, even his fear of losing her and her family. He could almost feel the battle slipping away from him. And he was so damn afraid of losing her forever if he did.
“If I tried to warn you away from me again, would it make any difference?” he asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer.
“None at all. But your voice is damn sexy, so if you still feel the need to, go ahead.”
He almost grinned, but sobered fast. “There are things about me you don’t know. And if you did, they’d change the way you see me.” She deserved more than him.
She pulled back to look at him. “No they wouldn’t.” She said it immediately, her expression serious but calm.
Yes, they would. God, he had to tell her at least some of it, try to make her understand what he meant. “I…struggle sometimes.” Jesus, it was hard to say that aloud. Especially to her, when she was the one whose admiration he craved the most.
“With what?”
Where to start? “Fitting back into society. With things I’ve seen and done. Things I couldn’t do.” He hated telling her even that much but she deserved to know. “I have nightmares. Adjusting to life back here is harder than I expected. I’m not the same guy you grew up with.”
“I know you’re not,” she said softly. “The same as I know that neither of us are perfect. But I still want a chance with you anyway.”
She said it with such conviction that all his remaining arguments died in his throat. His heart thudded against his ribs as he stared at her. The pull between them, their connection was so damn strong, but he didn’t want to fuck this up and lose her as well as Noah if it turned out he was more than she could handle and less than she deserved.
As though she sensed him wavering, Sierra looked him dead in the eye as she continued. “We’ve known each other for a long time. I understand you better than most people, even if I don’t know all your secrets. But if you ever decide you want to tell me about them, I’ll be here to listen. The only thing I couldn’t stand is you continuing to shut me out.”
Beckett’s chest constricted and he couldn’t look away.
Christ. With those four sentences she’d essentially rigged his protective walls with explosives and detonated them. It seemed like he’d been swimming against the current for so long now, trying to keep away from her, outdistance her and outrun the inevitable.
He’d failed. And now he needed her too badly to push her away. Strong as he was, he wasn’t strong enough to stay away. He couldn’t stop this any longer.
Pushing his free hand into her hair, he slid his fingers through the soft, silky tresses before burying his nose in them, breathing her in. Heat and arousal swept through him in a rush, along with a sense of rightness. It scared the shit out of him.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he made himself ask in a last ditch attempt to give her an out, brushing her hair away from her cheek. He was territorial as hell and wouldn’t apologize for it. It was only fair to warn her of that. “Because if we take things any farther, there’s no going back. You’ll be mine and no one else’s.”
None of that was romantic or remotely politically correct, but he didn’t give a shit because that was how he felt. If she wasn’t on board with that, better to end this now before they both did something they would regret later.
Surprise flitted across her face, then a smile of pure female satisfaction that made his gut clench and his heart pound. “That’s an awfully possessive thing to say for an aloof guy like you.”
He snorted. “Trust me, I’m anything but aloof when it comes to you.”
Something close to triumph flared in her eyes. “I’ve wanted to be yours for a damn long time, Beckett.” She smiled. “But I know you’re going to be more than worth the wait.”
Lust and possessiveness hit him so hard his whole body tightened. When it came to getting something he wanted, Beckett didn’t play fair. He wanted Sierra, no holds barred.
Starting right now, he would make her his.
“Sweetness, I’ll make sure of that,” he said, and leaned her backward to stretch her out and press her into the cushions.
SIERRA’S HEART THUDDED in a relentless rhythm against her ribs as Beckett stared down at her with so much hunger in his eyes it made her insides clench. She was all in, for better or worse, and now there was no going back.
Without a word he grasped the bottom of his shirt and methodically began peeling it upward. The abrupt change in him startled her a little, but not enough to stop this. She’d wanted him for so long and he would never do this with her just for kicks.
She pushed up onto her elbows, her mouth going dry as each inch of his bare torso was revealed to her ravenous gaze. Up, up the fabric moved, exposing bronzed skin and sculpted muscles of a man who had spent his entire adult life honing his body into a lethal wea
pon.
Her gaze snagged on the design displayed on the well-developed slope of his left pec. She’d never seen the tattoo before. Molon Labe was written in an old script beneath a distinctly Pacific Northwest native-stylized eagle. Beautiful and unique. It would look gorgeous as a framed black-and-white photograph.
Then he dragged the shirt over his head, and all she could do was gape at the beauty of his muscled arms and shoulders. It had been years since she’d seen him without a shirt on down at the beach when he’d first joined the military. He’d looked sexy as hell back then, but now… Now he took her breath away.
She sat up and reached for him, eager to touch him, feel all that power beneath her fingertips. His smooth skin was hot, the right side of his ribs nicked here and there by what she could only assume were shrapnel scars.
Before she could look her fill, Beckett cupped a big hand around the back of her head and brought his mouth down on hers. He’d taken her off guard the other night. This time she was ready. Or she thought she was.
She expected him to take. To dominate. Instead he explored, slowly stretching out on top of her until he pressed her down into the cushions.
She gasped at the feel of his warm, hard body blanketing her, his weight pinning her in place as he sucked at her top lip, then her bottom one. He slid his tongue across them, delved inside gently, the velvet caress igniting a shockwave of need inside her. And then his hips settled between hers, the hard ridge of his erection pressing into her core through her jeans and she couldn’t help the moan that spilled out of her.
Oh my God…
Beckett delved deeper, stroking and caressing with his tongue while she clung to his shoulders, ran her hands up and down the ridged power of his back. She was melting from the inside out, her insides quaking. Making out with him was a thousand times better than she had dreamed it would be, and finally having him reach for her made tears prick the backs of her eyes.
He pushed up on one arm to reach for the bottom of her shirt, still kissing her. She helped him, fighting a tiny jangle of nerves as they pulled the material up and over her head. His eyes darkened as he stared down at the deep blue satin cradling the mounds of her breasts.