Assigned (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 3) Read online

  My thighs clench at the sides of his head, but he doesn’t stop. Not until my body is spent. Lucas’s breathing turns uneven and rapid. Grabbing his cock, he roughly strokes it up and down, sliding his thumb over the tip and smearing precum all over as he stares at me spread out deliciously before him.

  Then he stops and looks around as if coming out of a trance. He scratches his head and when his gaze lands on his pants, he grabs them and pulls out his wallet. When he tosses it back to the ground, I notice the foil package in his hand.

  Oh. A condom.

  I bite my lower lip and moan as I watch him tear open the package and slide on the latex. Crawling back up, he wraps me up in his arms while lowering his mouth to mine. His fingers sink into my hair and he kisses me hard, dominating me.

  Feeling more than a little desperate, I fight back against his questing tongue and lips. Breaking the kiss, he slides his hand down between my legs, spreading my wet lips, then nudges his cock against my entrance, slowly pushing inside.

  I lock my legs around his waist and thrust my hips up, sliding him even deeper. Lucas captures both of my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head as he thrusts fast and hard. Then he takes my mouth in the most tender and gentle kiss I have ever experienced, sliding his tongue against mine.

  “God, you’re so tight, Riley, so fucking perfect.” He grunts, picking up speed until he’s slamming into me at full force.

  He explodes not long after, mumbling how I was squeezing his orgasm from him and loving the feel of my pussy on his cock. He smiles a lopsided grin followed by a laugh that spoke for him. He’s wrecked and satisfied, and he couldn’t look more vulnerable if he opened up his chest, pulled out his heart and handed it to me.

  Yes, I’m definitely glad for this second chance.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lucas

  Russo’s is packed tonight. Even the servers are rushing around more than usual. Although to be honest, the last time I was here was three years ago. Maybe this is a typical Thursday night. Russo’s is not the kind of place I go to all the time. It’s a ‘special occasion’ kind of restaurant, which is why we’re here. Riley deserved to be taken somewhere elegant, somewhere special, somewhere I couldn’t go in a T-shirt and jeans, somewhere her father wouldn’t think I’d ever be able to afford or appreciate.

  To say her apology rocked my world would be a world-class understatement and I’m not just talking about the sex, although that was mind-blowing. Those scars. She’s been through something. Something hard. Something it’s not easy for her to talk about. She’s trusting me now and letting me know I can trust her with Mason.

  Her support touched me in a way I don’t expect. Something warm unfurled in my chest and the tightness went away. Could we make a home for Mason? A family for all three of us? Is Riley really here for the long haul? Maybe I should stop looking for signs that she’s going to leave. It’s possible that I’ve been too sensitive. Lisa’s engagement did bother me. Not that I expected my ex-wife to remain single the rest of her life, but there was a sting to it when I found out she was getting remarried. One more sign that I wasn’t good enough, that I’d failed as a man. I’d had the same feeling with Riley when she walked away from me at the beach, but she’s still here and she’s telling me she wants to be there for me and for my son.

  I look to my right as Riley fidgets, adjusting the strap of her dress. The silky apricot fabric shines against her honeyed skin. “You look stunning.”

  She dips her chin and smiles. Since when has she ever been shy? Or maybe I don’t compliment her enough. Gotta address that. She deserves to know how beautiful she is. All the time.

  “Right this way.” The maître d’ leads us through the maze of tables to our seats.

  The place is beautiful. White tablecloths starched within an inch of their lives and flickering candles. Glinting silver and carpet so soft I feel like I’m sinking into it. It’s pricey, too, but I have a lot to make up for. Stomping around like a damn fool instead of trying to make this marriage work. Luckily, Taya was able to pull some strings and get us in here. The manager used to work over at Shaken and Stirred, the restaurant she works at.

  Riley peruses the menu and lowers it after a minute, her eyebrows raised. “Um, Lucas. You know we could’ve gone out for burgers, right?”

  “Price isn’t an issue. Get whatever you want.” If only her father could be here. Certainly a far cry from the poor kid who wasn’t good enough for his daughter he thought I’d always be.

  I sit back in my chair and relax for the first time in days. The soft ambient music and warm dim lighting help. The waiter approaches, his black uniform neatly ironed and crisp. Funny the things I notice thanks to the military.

  “May I take your order?” He looks expectantly at Riley.

  Riley glances at the menu once more, then hands it to the waiter. “I’ll take the salmon, but can I substitute white rice for the potatoes?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He turns to face me. “And for you, sir?”

  “The butter chicken and pilau rice. Also, can I get two glasses of Moselle?” Another thing I wouldn’t mind Riley’s father seeing. I know what kind of wine to order with fish and chicken. Not exactly something he’d expect from a kid who’d grown up poor, like me.

  Riley holds up her hand. “Just one glass. I’m going to stick with water.”

  Damn it. I probably should have asked her what kind of wine she wanted instead of deciding for her. The Moselle is pretty midrange for Russo’s wine list. After the waiter leaves, I lean closer to Riley. “Don’t worry about the cost. Please, if you want a different wine, we can order it.”

  “Lucas, I’m okay. I’d just prefer water.” She smiles and reaches out to put her hand over mine.

  I hold still, relishing her touch even if it’s only this small gesture. She looks like she’s lost some weight. I know she’s been under the weather, but don’t really know what’s been wrong. Maybe it has something to do with those scars, the ones she showed me, but hasn’t been willing to talk about yet. Not that there’s been an opportunity really. Work has had me so busy. I hope that’s not what’s making her feel ill, that it’s not causing her too much stress. Some people aren’t cut out for dealing with the crazy and inconsistent schedules Special Forces members have. Hell, most people aren’t. There’s a reason the divorce rate is so high. That’s part of the reason the program exists in the first place.

  I rub my thumb gently over the back of her hand, my eyes locking with Riley’s, and I get lost for a second in their endless blue. She is beautiful, but there’s a sadness there. A smile that never reaches those amazing eyes. I’ve noticed it before. Whatever happened in the years we were apart, whatever made those scars, it’s past time to see what needs to be done to fix it. “I know the whole program can be daunting. Is there anything you need? I probably should’ve asked a while ago and I’m sorry.”

  “No, no. I’m good.” She takes her hand away from mine and takes a sip of her water. “Actually, I started volunteering down at Sandbridge. They have a surfing program for Gold Star families.”

  I chuckle. That’s right. Riley used to move heaven and hell to have some time on the waves. Anytime she could get to Padre Island, she raced there. Even cutting class on occasion. “Sometimes I forget your love of surfing. Some of the guys surf. Taya’s husband, in fact.”

  “You still haven’t gotten into it, huh?”

  I shrug. “Done it a couple of times, but not really my thing.” I’m not entirely sure why. I love the water. Surfing is a little too out of my control for me to really enjoy it. Give me a hard run or a ropes course any day. Getting whipped up by a wave just to tame it? There are other things I like better.

  Our food arrives and we both eat in a comfortable silence. For the first time in a while, I feel at ease with a woman. Most of my dates have had an uncomfortableness, a stiffness. Forced conversation and awkward pauses. But with Riley, it’s easy to just sit and take in the atmosphere.

&nbs
p; She seems comfortable as well. It’s the first time we’ve eaten together that she hasn’t picked at her food as if she was trying to decide whether or not to eat it. Guess the restaurant was a great choice since she seems to be eating without hesitation. She never used to be a picky eater. Maybe she developed some kind of food intolerance that she’s not comfortable sharing. Riley was definitely the girl who never farted in front another person. I suppose it might have something to do with those scars. I’ll ask, but not now. Now I just want to enjoy looking at my beautiful wife over plates of amazing food.

  With my plate nearly empty, I sit back in my chair. “How often do you volunteer?”

  She finishes chewing, then swallows before answering. “Two days a week. But it’s also weather dependent. Plus, I got a call back for some work-at-home opportunities. That will probably impact my availability.”

  That’s news to me. “Didn’t know you applied for a job.” I keep my voice even, pleased that she’s letting me in a bit more.

  She fiddles with the fork in her hand. “I want something for myself. Work has been hard to come by. But these two companies are solid. Pay isn’t much, but they offer benefits like insurance and a 401k.”

  My brows furrow. She has my insurance. Why would she need to be concerned about that? Something doesn’t add up here. “My plan should cover everything you need.”

  Her eyes go wide for a second and she doesn’t respond right away. “Oh, I, uh . . . I guess talking to the other wives and learning what happened to Jim and your other teammate . . . I figured having a backup plan wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  Fuck.

  Of course. Riley heard about Lux. We still miss him. Visit his grave when we can. So stupid of me not to think my wife wouldn’t be worried about the possibility I could die, especially when she has the kids of Gold Star families in front of her whenever she volunteers at the beach. Living breathing examples of why a military family might need for a backup plan.

  She’s right. Having a backup plan isn’t a bad idea. Maybe it’s something I need to think about some more for myself. For my son. For Riley.

  They’re my family and if something does happen to me, I want to make sure they’re taken care of. But for now my job is to support Riley with whatever she needs. “So, when do you start?”

  “I’m not sure which opportunity I should take. Both offer paid training and I have to take a look at what extra hardware I might need to buy before I can even start.”

  Bingo.

  I reach across and grab her hand. “If you want to run both opportunities past me, I’m all ears. But either way, tomorrow we’re going shopping. Whatever you need, we’ll buy.”

  She blinks rapidly and opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

  I hold up a hand. “You’re offering to support me with the lawyer, so let me help you get settled. I want you to be happy.”

  Riley’s face scrunches. “I don’t want to impose, especially if we part ways at the end of—”

  There’s a lot I need to learn, a lot of places I must have failed at being a good family man in the past considering how everyone leaves me, but this I can do. “Regardless of whether or not we end up together for the long haul, it’s the very least I can do. Truthfully, the computer equipment doesn’t even compare to the help you are giving me when it comes to my son.”

  She nods. “Thank you.”

  For Riley, there’s not much I wouldn’t do to make her happy. Even if what makes her happy is eventually leaving me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Riley

  The aroma of slightly singed pancakes floats up the stairs. I follow the scent down into the kitchen just in time to see Lucas fling a spatula into the sink.

  When we got home from the restaurant the night before, we went right back to bed. To Lucas’s bed. Maybe it was going to be our bed. Lucas was everything I remembered him being when we were in high school. Tender and passionate and generous in his lovemaking. He was something more now, though, too. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man, and he took possession of me like a man. I slept better than I had in weeks with his strong arms around me, his warmth by my side, the solid mass of him near me.

  Standing in the doorway wearing nothing but the dress shirt I’d practically torn off him the night before, there was a throb at my very center remembering it. Everything I’d hoped for when I’d finally let him see my scars was coming true. Nothing that I dreaded seemed to be on the horizon.

  Lucas still hasn’t noticed me, and I take a moment to admire the man in action. Even just putting pancakes on a plate and balancing syrup and silverware in his hands, his movements are confident and sure. The muscles in his forearms, bunching and stretching. No part of this man isn’t toned within an inch of its life. Something makes him shake his head as he works.

  “What’s going on in here?” I ask.

  He spins around and the look he gives me spreads warmth all over my body, as sweet as the syrup he’s carrying. “Figured I’d make us some breakfast so I can sit in the morning sunshine and look at my beautiful wife.” He gestures with a nod toward the kitchen table and I follow, a little nervous about what kind of pancake he’s made.

  He sets the pancakes down. And they’re just that. Pancakes. No chocolate chips or blueberries or bananas. Plain. I realize how closely he’s been watching me and how hard he’s trying to make things work.

  “Let’s eat,” he says.

  I turn and pick up the glasses sitting on the island and bring them over to the table, then sit down. I know we should talk about the night before, but I’m not sure how to start. I take the pitcher and fill my glass with water.

  Lucas piles pancakes on his plate and slathers them with butter. I put a couple of them on my plate. When I look up, his eyes are on me. He chews slowly, his head tilted just a bit to the side as he watches me. “What are the scars from?”

  Damn it. I drop my fork and groan. I’d started to hope that his acceptance of those scars the day before had meant I wouldn’t have to go into detail. No such luck. “An appendectomy.” Maybe I could get away with a scaled-down version of the truth.

  He nods and eats a few more bites. I can practically hear the gears whirring in his head. “Graves had an appendectomy last year and has one little scar.”

  Panic flutters in my chest. When he’d kissed my scars and talked about how brave and strong I was, I felt more myself than I had in years. I want that so much. I want as much of it as I can get. As soon as he finds out the extent of what happened to me and what it could mean now, it’ll be over. I want to savor a bit more of that feeling. Maybe I’ll get approved for that new drug and won’t have any more flare-ups. Then he’ll never have to know about Riley the sick girl, Riley the weak girl, Riley who has to be handled with kid gloves. And Lisa will never have to know that I have a chronic health condition that might sometimes make it difficult for me to take care of Mason.

  Fifteen years ago, I lied to him. Told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. Even worse, I’d let my father tell him I didn’t want to see him anymore and that it was because he didn’t measure up. I’d hurt him with those lies and I’d hurt myself. It’s time to put that behind me. It’s time for me to come clean.

  “Actually, I have Crohn’s disease. All the surgeries actually did start with the appendectomy, but my symptoms got worse while you were away with your mom at that yoga seminar. I guess I had started showing some early signs of Crohn’s for a while, but had ignored it. Figured it was nothing more than some cramps. I’d push through it.”

  He nods. “I know how you were back then. Pain was something to rise above, like that damn broken arm.”

  “Turns out that wasn’t such a great plan. By the time I told anyone, my appendix had burst and I had to have emergency surgery.” I push my plate of pancakes away. “It happens. Most people get better after surgery and some antibiotics. Some, however, don’t.”

  Lucas stares at his plate, cutting his food into tiny bits as if trying to
find some way to release his emotions. “And you were one of the ones who didn’t get better?”

  I blow out a breath. “Things went wrong. Really wrong. The pain. The cramping. The inability to hold on to food.” He looks up at me. “It was . . . a mess. I needed help. Lots of it. It’s why my father said you couldn’t take care of me. He knew how much that would take.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Riley, that’s bullshit. He had it set in his mind at least a year before that. He never came right out and said it, but he made enough comments that I knew. My family isn’t rich. He wanted you to be with someone who had money. Always had. Nothing else really mattered to him.”

  I narrow my eyes. “It isn’t just about you and me. You forget my older sister died when she was twelve. From a severe asthma attack. You’re a parent. How would you feel, what would you have done or said if you had one child die from a medical emergency and then your other child got sick? You’d want to know that child would be with someone who could take care of them.”

  “I wouldn’t have ripped someone else apart.” His nostrils flair. “He was wrong too. I’m a good provider. I own a house and a car and I can buy my family everything they need. I’ve taken on second jobs and signed up for per diem opportunities. I’ve done everything I can to be sure my wife and child want for nothing. I’ve proven myself ten times over.”

  “You’re not hearing me.” I lean closer, my face heating. “This isn’t about money. My parents wanted to make sure I was cared for medically. You were just a kid. How were you going to do that? You have no idea how bad it got.”

  “Of course I don’t. You won’t tell me anything.” He tosses his fork down on his plate.

  He has a point. I take a deep breath and blow it out and square my shoulders. “I had surgery after surgery. It kept getting worse. Then an infection set in. Eventually, I had an ileostomy and a colostomy.”