Tough Love: Back to Buckhorn

by Lori Foster

  She opened her mouth but then closed it without saying anything.

  Stack just watched her, waiting, making her sigh.

  “Fine, but you first.”

  Lifting one shoulder, he said, “I got jumped. Now you.”

  No freaking way! “What do you mean you got jumped?”

  He cracked his head to one side, then the other, and visibly held on to his patience. “It was nothing. Two goons jumped me in front of my sister’s apartment. I beat the snot out of them both, end of story.”

  “If you beat the...the snot out of them, then what’s this?” She put her hand protectively over the worst of the bruises.

  “One lucky strike with a small wooden bat. It’s superficial. In a few days it’ll be back to normal.”

  “Did you call the police?” she demanded.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  Amused, he half smiled. “It was just an altercation, and they learned the error of their ways. No reason to drag the cops into it.”

  “But...why not?”

  He sighed as if harassed. “I don’t need to be mothered, okay? Got a mother, a pushy one. You’ve met her. Got an older sister, too, who likes to butt into my life. That’s enough female concern, believe me.”

  Not wanting to chase him off, Vanity reluctantly let it drop. “Fine.”

  Her attitude didn’t put him off. “Now you.” He turned his hand over to effectively displace her touch, then laced his fingers in hers. “Why do you have a hang-up about being gorgeous?”

  Her face heated. “I’m not.”

  Enunciating clearly, he said again, “Gorgeous. And for some reason, you’re bothered by it.”

  Shaking her head to deny it, she lied, “That’s not true.”

  “Vanity.”

  “It’s not a hang-up.” It was totally a hang-up. A dumb one to boot. But still... “It’s reality. Looks fade, beauty is only skin deep, all that. If you find me attractive, I’m glad.”

  “I find you very attractive. Anyone with eyes and a brain cell will agree. Especially anyone male.”

  Okay, so she knew she wasn’t a hag. She’d been shopping in the mall when a local talent scout begged for her info. If his office hadn’t been there in the mall, she would have kept walking. But it had intrigued her.

  So, not a hag. Better than just average. She appreciated that nature had been kind to her. Sighing, she gave a dramatic, “But...”

  “But?” he prompted.

  Flattening her mouth and staring him in the eyes, she stated the truth. “I don’t want looks to be the only thing you see.”

  For the longest time he scrutinized her; contemplative, understanding. Curious. “There’s more to it, something more personal.”

  She gave up. “Yes, personal.” To help her get through the uncomfortable confession, she toyed with the front of his shirt...and sneakily opened a button on his flannel. “My mother was beautiful.”

  “She looked like you?”

  “More...refined.” How to explain that? “Higher cheekbones, a narrower nose. I have my mother’s coloring, but I favor my father.”

  “Then both your parents were attractive.” His eyes searched hers. “You explained about your mother’s family, and I know you said your dad was an only child. But didn’t he have any relatives?”

  “He had uncles and aunts, and a few cousins. They weren’t close, and we don’t stay in touch. Some of them live in England, a few in the Bahamas.”

  Stack’s fingertips did this interesting, stirring thing where he lightly touched her, tracing her jawline, up and around her ear. She inhaled and tried to focus enough to get through the explanation. “Dad had a mistress.”

  Oh, wow, she hadn’t meant to just blurt that out.

  His mouth went crooked with a reluctant smile. Definitely not the reaction she’d expected.

  Scowling, she poked his chest. “What’s funny about that?”

  He quickly sobered. “Sorry, your word choice... You’re saying he cheated?”

  Somehow “had a mistress” sounded less awful than “cheated.” Her mother had developed the practice of prettying up reality with loftier word choices. Denial in its finest form.

  Perhaps, Vanity decided, she shouldn’t do the same. “Yes.” Her throat tightened, but she forced out the words. “He cheated.”

  “They were divorced?”

  It shamed her to admit the truth. “Mom felt the only thing worse than Dad leaving her for a younger woman would be to go through the disgrace of a divorce.”

  Stack whistled. “Old school.”

  Her heart cracked a little at that attitude. “Marriage should be forever.”

  Taking her words seriously, Stack slid a hand around her neck. “Love should be forever. Without it, it’s not a marriage anyway.”

  So true. Sadly, her mother had never realized that. “I’m sure you’re right. But she stayed with him anyway, and he stayed with her, and after they died, his mistress expected to inherit.”

  “But she didn’t.”

  “Not a dime.” Vanity had almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

  Stack moved his fingers in a light caress. “My mom and dad were devoted, to each other and to Tabby and me.” Some fond memory curled his mouth, then brought a short laugh. “Dad was outrageous. Until the day he died he chased after Mom like they were still teenagers. I remember one day we were waiting on dinner, and Mom bent to take a roast out of the oven. Dad smacked her on the butt, and when she protested, hitting him with the oven mitt, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her until they were both laughing. Tabby and I pretended to be grossed out, but it wasn’t gross. It was just...nice. Normal. At least for us.”

  “Other than a peck on the cheek, I don’t think I ever saw my dad kiss my mother.”

  “You’d have been shocked around my house. They didn’t make out in front of us or anything like that. But Dad was always pretty demonstrative. I was twenty when a massive heart attack took him, and a week before that, he’d hugged me. A big bear hug. He was touchy-feely with the ones he loved, and that included my mom big-time.”

  “That must have been so nice. My parents weren’t touchers.” She gave that quick thought. “Not around me anyway. But I don’t know how Dad was with his young, pretty mistress.”

  “So you, and your mother, assumed he cheated because this other woman was younger and prettier?”

  Vanity wasn’t sure. “My mother often said that love lasted only as long as looks did.” Feeling sick about it, she looked away. “She said having me had ruined her body, although it seemed to me that she worked out all the time.”

  Stack frowned. “Is that why you work out?”

  Snorting, Vanity shook her head. “I’ve always enjoyed being active. If I could swim or surf, that’s what I’d be doing. But there aren’t any oceans nearby.”

  He grinned. “Not in Ohio, no. But we could hit up some waterparks if you want.”

  “Really?”

  He touched her face. “I’d enjoy it.”

  Emotion burned her eyes. “Me, too.”

  Easing the moment, Stack said, “I can’t imagine anyone prettier than you.”

  A reluctant smile warmed her. “You’re sweet. Thank you.”

  “Sweet.” He shook his head, then both his hands cupped gently around her neck, forcing her to make eye contact. “I think you’re beautiful.” Then, surprising her, he added, “Just as Cannon thinks Yvette is beautiful and Denver thinks Cherry is.”

  What did that comparison mean?

  Feeling very unsure, she said nothing.

  “When a man is involved,” Stack continued, “married or not, but especially when he has a family, he should never cheat. It’s not just a betrayal of the person you promised to love, honor and
cherish. It betrays the family unit, too.”

  So many times she’d felt betrayed by her father.

  Sometimes...by her mother, as well. Together they’d created a cold and uncomfortable atmosphere, the antithesis of family.

  “No disrespect to your parents, but when someone cheats, it’s a reflection on the cheater, only. Your dad was willing to do that, so I don’t think it would’ve mattered what your mom looked like.”

  Vanity admitted the truth. “I’ve thought that sometimes, too. Mom made it about looks, but I think maybe it was about a whole lot more.”

  “Your father shouldn’t have done that. Your mother shouldn’t have accepted it.” Stack put a quick kiss on her mouth. “You sure as hell shouldn’t, and I damn straight wouldn’t.”

  No, she couldn’t see Stack sneaking around. He was too up-front, and far too honorable.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, he said, “I wouldn’t marry unless I could have what my parents had. And you can believe me, Dad always thought Mom was hot.” He grinned as he said it. “Didn’t matter if she was dressed up or wearing sweats while she cleaned the house.” Stack shrugged. “He loved her.”

  Hearing him talk so earnestly about his family thrilled her. Practically overnight they’d advanced from one-time hookup to saving free time for each other...however long it lasted.

  Stack tipped his head. “Understand?”

  “Yes,” Vanity assured him. She got another button open, then tried to lead him back to his earlier statement. “You mentioned the other couples...?”

  He didn’t deny that they were a couple, too. “You’re all attractive.”

  “All?”

  He ignored the question. “I think you’re by far the hottest. But I’m willing to bet Cannon and Denver would disagree. Armie, too, given he’s hung up on Merissa.”

  “I know.”

  His mouth quirked. “Everyone seems to know except the two of them.”

  Another button gave way. “Are you saying you’re hung up on me?”

  He lightly kissed her, and teased, “Little bit.”

  Her heart took leaps around her chest. “Really?”

  His gaze turned smoky. “You like that, huh?”

  Throwing her arms around him, she pressed her face to his throat. “Yes.” His scent, dark and masculine and delicious, filled her head. “I like it a lot.”

  “Understand, darlin’, I like everything about you. Whether you’re spattered in paint or wearing sweats at the gym or—” he nipped her neck “—buck-ass, which I’m pretty sure will always be my preference.”

  “Then maybe I should get buck-ass right now.”

  “Now you’re talking.” As if she weighed nothing, he scooped an arm under her legs and lifted her. Norwood and Maggie both perked up, but she said, “Stay,” and with twitching ears, they both remained in the kitchen as Stack carried her away.

  She loved him. More so every minute.

  Pretty soon she’d have to come clean and admit that she’d seduced him under false pretenses.

  He’d thought to get uncomplicated sex.

  But all along, she’d been going for happily-ever-after.

  * * *

  STACK GOT HER in the bedroom, closed the door, then lowered her to the bed. He stretched out beside her, one leg pinning her down while he kissed her senseless. Covering her breast with one hand, he groaned. Her nipple was already puckered tight, and he tormented them both by playing with her while getting his fill of her soft mouth.

  Each time she adjusted, he did, too, until he got lost in the ravenous kiss, her taste and heat and the fragrant air around her.

  Dragging his mouth away, he shoved up the shirt until it bunched around her upper chest. Her breasts trembled with her ragged breathing. In a fog of need, he held her in his hand, licked the ripe nipple, then sucked her hard and sweet.

  Her back arched, and he felt the sting of her nails on his shoulders, quickly replaced with a deliberately easier hold.

  He wanted to tell her that he didn’t mind if she got carried away; he loved turning her on. But he wasn’t about to give up suckling her to say anything. Not when she showed so much amazing reaction.

  Squirming, she lifted her body against his leg. Every breath sounded like a faint gasp that turned into a soft moan and then a sharper groan. Jesus, would she come just from this?

  The idea of that nearly put him over the edge. Before he lost it completely he sat up and wrestled the shirt off over her head. The second her hands were free she reached for him.

  “Not yet, darlin’.” He bent to kiss her midriff, then her cute belly. The scent of her skin drew him back again and again until he was nuzzling against her with soft love bites.

  Groaning, he slid off the bed to stand at the side, then grabbed her waistband and dragged down the flannel pants.

  She’d gone commando, and he hadn’t realized it. Breathing hard, he lightly touched her with his fingertips.

  “My socks...” she whispered.

  “They’re cute.” Who the hell cared about socks? He opened the remaining buttons on his shirt. “Next time, tell me if you want my shirt off. I’m happy to oblige.”

  “Note—I always want your shirt off.” She came up to her knees in front of him and opened both hands on his chest. “Your body is amazing.”

  Throwing her concerns back at her, he asked, “Is that what you like most about me?”

  “I like everything about you.”

  “Yeah?” He opened his jeans and eased the zipper past his erection. “This?”

  Her hand slid around him, and she murmured huskily, “Yes, this.”

  For a minute or two he let her play. Not like he had the willpower to stop her, not when it felt so damned good. When her thumb teased over the head, slicking pre-cum in lazy circles guaranteed to make him explode, he caught her wrist.

  It wasn’t his preference, but since a gentleman always asked, he said, “Condom?”

  Her eyes, dazed and dark, stared into his. “Just you and just me.”

  “Perfect.” Better than perfect. He’d like a week with just the two of them. Maybe a month.

  Maybe longer.

  He stepped back from her. “Lie down. Let me look at you.”

  “You’ll finish stripping?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  She smiled and reclined, one arm over her head, the other resting on her stomach. She bent a knee, and all the lust and need inside him coiled tight.

  Lifting first his right foot, then his left, he tugged off his boots—and all the while his gaze strayed over her body, investigating and appreciating every curve and hollow and swell. Her skin had that peachy residual glow from the sun, except for her whiter breasts, tipped by tight pink nipples.

  And the neat triangle around her sex.

  He could see exactly where her little bikini had covered, and now, naked, the paler skin highlighted the most sexual parts of her.

  Parts he needed to touch, and kiss. And lick.

  Still looking at her, he pushed down his jeans and boxers.

  She inhaled, shifted, clutched her hands in the bedding.

  Stepping up to her, Stack rested a hand on each of her knees—and parted her legs.

  “Stack,” she whispered.

  He came down over her, balanced on one forearm, and kissed her other breast. “I’ve thought nonstop about this. About you.” He circled a nipple with his tongue, caught her in his teeth and lightly tugged.

  Her back arched on a vibrating groan.

  He did the same to the other breast, then kissed her ribs. Down her waist to her belly.

  “Stack?”

  The high, breathless way she said his name told him she knew what was coming and wanted it. Not as badly as he did, but maybe eno
ugh.

  Leaving warm, damp, open-mouth love bites all over her softly fragrant skin, he inched his way down. She put the back of her hand against her mouth, her eyes closed and her breathing labored.

  “Damn, you’re hot.” And quick to respond.

  She whispered, “With you.”

  Only him? He’d like to think this was special for her, because it sure as hell was special for him. In so many small, indefinable ways, making love with Vanity was a revelation. Hotter. Sweeter.

  More.

  He lifted her legs over his shoulders. She made a small, anxious sound and bit her lip.

  Adjusting her to his liking, he kissed the inside of each thigh, nuzzling, breathing in her musky scent and going so taut it seemed she could break him.

  He liked seeing her like this. Open to him and what he wanted to do to her and with her. His.

  Instead of alarming him, that thought settled in comfortably. He wanted her, every part of her, like this and in other ways. All ways.

  Her energy level astounded him. Her disregard of wealth intrigued him. The warm way she accepted his family, how she quickly aligned with them, touched him in immeasurable ways.

  And her sexuality, the perfect way they matched up, burned him to the core.

  Sliding an arm under her hips, he lifted her up. “So pretty.” He hadn’t yet touched her here, but already her lips were glistening from her excitement, her clit swollen. With one fingertip he explored, dipping slightly between her lips, relishing her moan, the rush of new wetness. He traced her, teasing up and over that ultrasensitive bud, enjoying how she tensed and moved, the sounds she made.

  Without warning, he added a second finger, moved back and forth along her entrance—and sank deep.

  Her body bowed, then quickly resettled, as if she feared discouraging him.

  Not likely.

  Blowing softly on her, easing closer, he kept his fingers in her, curling them slightly to find just the right spot. With his other hand, he used his fingers to part her, then opened his mouth over her.

  This time they both groaned.

  Now it was his tongue exploring, teasing. Her taste was indescribable. The heat of her, her sweetness intoxicated him, making him want more. He licked and sucked, aware of her growing tension, the way she stiffened and the quickening of her breath.