Just as Wicked was dumping his tray, Michael entered the mess. He headed right toward them, and Wicked sighed. Wicked turned to look at her and said, “If I stay here, I might kick his ass. I’m not in the mood for him.”

Cursing Michael for his timing, Wicked’s body hummed from Kat’s heated look.

“He does have a punchable face.”

Wicked threw back his head and laughed. She smiled, and the tension between them was palatable. “Damn, that was good. You’re not the only person who has said that.”

“I can imagine.” The wry look on her face made him chuckle. He leaned down, loving the closeness with her. “You try to keep from punching him, okay?”

“I’ll try,” she said as he took a step back.

Michael’s sour expression made his fist clench. “Kat, I need to talk to you.” He looked at Wicked. “Privately. Agency business. You understand, Cross.”

What a pompous ass, Wicked thought, but he nodded and gave Kat an I’ll-see-you-later-look. She nodded back, the heat in her eyes banked. Walking out of the mess, he went to the barrack he shared with Cowboy and gathered up his shower stuff.

He walked to the showers and stripped down. Stepping into the spray, he closed his eyes and let the hot water pour over him. He gave over to that nagging voice inside him. The one that still wouldn’t let go of his guilt. They had talked about Phoenix, and being with Kat was everything Wicked knew it would be. He wanted her. More than he wanted his next breath. But was it right? Did he have the right?

Nothing had been resolved between his brother and Kat. She’d never told him how she really felt about Wicked. He knew if she’d been able to have that conversation with Phoenix, told him she cared more for his brother than him and broken off the engagement, it would have been very difficult to have any type of relationship with her.

With Phoenix alive, it would have been impossible for any of them to move past this. He would have lost Kat for good. His love for his brother was pitted against his love for Kat. He bowed his head and rubbed at his eyes.

He wondered at the reaction of his sister and dad. Selene had known. He didn’t know how she’d guessed, but she’d been aware of his feelings for Kat. All he’d ever gotten from her was support and love. He wondered if she was trying to compensate for Susan. Whatever her reasons, he loved her like hell for it.

His dad was a wild card, and Susan was a sure bet. She would blow everything out of proportion.

Her words had lost their power to sting a long time ago. What she’d said on the balcony was old news. But her power to hurt him in regard to Phoenix was very real. It’s where he was vulnerable, and not even his body armor could repel those emotional bullets.

She’d taught him his emotions made him weak. But Kat had taught him that they made him human. He realized that not dealing with them all these years had made him weak. A strong man didn’t shy away from anything hard, not even what was happening inside. Ignoring it broke down his foundation when what he needed was to come to terms with what affected him emotionally. Real men handled all aspects of their lives. Emotion required as much courage, maybe more, than combat.

His family wasn’t the only problem standing in the way of his need and desire to move forward with Kat in his life. He also had to tackle the problem of working together.

It was problematic not only for SEAL command, but for CIA command as well. If they made the commitment to stay in each other’s lives romantically, their professional life would have to change. He’d either have to transfer off his team—he swallowed hard, his heart clenching—or she would have to find another SEAL team to liaison.

He turned off the water and grabbed his towel, drying off. Slipping on underwear, he grabbed his camo pants and buttoned. Pulling a black T-shirt over his head, he tucked it into his pants, then donned a belt, socks, and his combat boots. Once fully dressed, he threw the damp towel over his shoulder and walked out of the showers. About halfway back to his barrack, he saw Kat and Michael in front of the main building. It looked like they were arguing.

“Hey, can anyone join this party?”

Wicked’s head whipped around to find Kid standing there. “How the hell did you get here?”

Kid smirked. “I grabbed a ride on my flying unicorn. How the hell do you think I got here?” He rolled his eyes. “It was rough over France. She loves croissants.”

Wicked took two steps and caught Kid around the neck and squeezed.

“I heard about Hollywood and I cut my leave short. Ruckus pulled some strings. There’s no way I’m not going to be here.”

“What about Paige?”

“She’s the one who insisted I come.”

“She’s a keeper,” Wicked said.

“Yeah, she is,” Kid said softly, his feelings for his wife unguarded and genuine. Damn he loved that about Kid. He’d always been able to express himself. There might be chaos there, but there was also order. Kid had learned that, and he was younger than Wicked. “Where’s Ruckus?”

Just then, Ruckus came out of the showers, and Kid smiled. Ruckus shook his head as he closed the gap between them.

“Ah, LT, perfect timing.”

“I had a feeling you’d show up.”

“Yeah, like a bad penny,” Cowboy said, with a chuckle, coming up to them. He clapped Kid on the back, squeezing his shoulder.

“I’ll fill him in,” Ruckus said. “Have you eaten?”

“When has that ever mattered?” Kid said. “I’m always hungry.”

Wicked chuckled along with Ruckus.

“Later, big man,” Kid said, and the three of them walked off toward the mess.

Wicked went back to the barracks and deposited his stuff. There was a knock, and he called out, “It’s open.”

Scarecrow stuck his head in. “You decent?”

“No but come in anyway.”

Scarecrow laughed softly. “You made a joke. Wow.”

“Hey, I’m as funny as the next guy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re grumpy and contrary and a pain in the ass.”

“Tell me what you really think about me.”

Scarecrow sat on Cowboy’s neatly made bunk and leaned back against the pillows.

“So, what’s up with you and Kat?”

Wicked looked over at Scarecrow, not fooled by the innocent expression on his face.

Wicked didn’t have subtleties. It wasn’t in his nature. He knew Crow would keep anything he said to himself.

“We made up.”

Scarecrow burst into laughter, holding his stomach. “Really, Rion. You are something.”

“What?”

“I should never expect a book from you when a teaser will do.”

“What the fuck, Arlo? What do you want me to say?”

“I want the damn details. It’s been killing all of us. I’ve known something’s been up since she walked into our ready room.”

“You sit around the knitting circle talking like a bunch of women?”

“Well, yeah. We do. We’re fucking nosy nellies.”

Wicked sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. What had he just told himself in the shower? It took more courage to share than it did to hold back. Crow was one of his favorite people, a trusted brother. His team meant more to him than any other non-family on the planet. The Brotherhood ruled. There wasn’t anything he could say that would change their minds about him.

Before he knew what he was doing, everything poured out of him in one big long stream of words. Scarecrow’s brows rose at the beginning, then he went into serious listening mode, sitting up, not saying a damn word until Wicked finally ended with, “So that’s everything except what the hell I’m going to do about moving forward with her, what will happen when I break it to my family, and what I’m going to do about leaving the team if it comes to that.”

Scarecrow just sat there, clearly dumbfounded by the way Wicked had opened up when he’d been nothing but a closemouthed, stoic son of a bitch.

“Damn,” Scarecrow said. “I had no idea you’ve been dealing with all this shit with her. Fuck. It’s a wonder you’ve kept it together. I’m seriously sorry about the loss of your brother. That must have been tough as hell, especially with what you were going through with Kat.”

There was a short silence, then Crow said, “Leaving the team isn’t an option. Take that off the table now.”

Wicked tipped his head in silent acknowledgment. His shoulders relaxed some. “I can’t just yet until I talk to Kat, for nothing except principle alone. She’s part of the equation now.”

A glint of amusement twinkled in Crow’s eyes. “Well now. If you had as much common sense as you did principle, you’d be a rich man.”

The corner of Wicked’s mouth lifted a little. “Fuck you.”

“Ah, there’s the Wicked I know and love,” Crow said. “What are you going to do, boy?”

Wicked stared at him for a moment, his throat thick, then looked down at his hands. “I don’t know,” he answered, his tone subdued.

“Well, shoot!” Scarecrow said, his face full of concern, and it warmed Wicked’s heart that his teammate, his good friend, cared that he would leave. It meant…everything.

Scarecrow leaned his forearms on his thighs. Wicked could tell by his solemn expression that he was considering his next words. “Love is like a pig in a poke. You look at her and think, she’s mighty fine. You know there’s going to be some great bacon, barbeque sauce on that pulled pork? Outstanding. And the roast? Well, you wanna slap your momma and say howdy when you taste it, but there’s some major mud rollin’ between you and that sweet little sooey. What you have to consider: is it worth gettin’ all muddy and such to catch that slippery, greased devil?”

Wicked huffed out a laugh as Scarecrow rose. “You are quite the sage, my friend.”

“Don’t I know it.” He walked toward the door. “Everything we do and everything we want comes at a price. It’s just a matter of deciding if it’s worth it.”

“How do you know?”

“For me, with Yana, I can’t wait to get all good and muddy every damn day, no matter how much I have to roll around in it. Kat is a lot like her. CIA is a tough gig, but the good side is they know the shit we go through, and they know the job we do. That’s also worth some very muddy times.” He turned at the door, a glint in his eyes. “Oh, and getting dirty with her, if you catch my drift, well, my man, it’s better than bacon.”

The door shut behind him, and Wicked laughed softly. “Yeah, everything can be solved with a little bacon,” he murmured. If only it was that easy.

He’d left the barracks after Scarecrow, too restless to stay there, too much on his mind for a run, too much Kat filling him up.

He was lying on her bed, glad she had given him her code, his hands under his head. He’d come in here like Goldilocks and found her bed to be just right. He wondered how many of his decisions had dramatically altered the course of his life. The decision to not speak up about how he felt about her certainly would have, but he wondered about others. He wondered what would have happened to his relationship with Phoenix, with his family, with Kat. In fact, he’d been doing some heavy-duty wondering since he’d talked to Scarecrow.

He was certain that if he hadn’t left the DEVGRU Team, he never would have come to Ruckus’s team to serve with a leader who understood every one of his men and how to get the damned best out of them. He was sure he would have missed out on what the Brotherhood really was, what it really meant to a fellow SEAL, and the kind of friendships that would last a lifetime. Here he’d found the true meaning of belonging with the kind of family who stood by him no matter what. Maybe back then when he’d left college, when he was looking for…something, this was it.

The door slammed behind Kat, swearing a blue streak. She banged her fist on the desk, and Wicked turned his head on her pillow, her beautiful rigid body showing the anger she was trying to control.

He smiled a little, remembering the very first time he’d seen her. She had been wearing a kelly-green dress, black suede high-heeled boots, and her hair had hung down to her hips. Now it met her shoulder blades. She had looked aloof and exotic with her almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones, and he remembered how the sight of her had stopped him cold—as if he recognized her from another time. He could clearly remember thinking she was someone special. That was one sentiment that hadn’t changed in the eight years he’d known her. He still thought she was special, and he couldn’t imagine what his life would have been like without her in it.

His throat suddenly tight, he said, “Why don’t you bring all that aggression over here and take it out on me?”

She whirled, her eyes narrowing, ready for action like the badass she was. She gave him a tight smile. “How are your assassin skills?”

He watched her, a peculiar soft feeling filling up his chest. His hands still under his head, he returned her smile. “I told you. I’m a brute force kinda guy. But I know a guy.”

“You know a bunch of guys,” she said and stared at him.

“I’m easy, and when my girl is upset all I ask is whose ass are we kicking today? But in this particular case, I’m taking a wild stab in the dark and saying…Michael fucking Brandon.”

“Hmmm, stabbing,” she said, pretending she was considering it, then she sighed. “He is such a-a—”

“Asshole? Psychopath? Village idiot?

A glimmer of humor appeared in her eyes. “All of the above and then some. Add egomaniac and you have a well-rounded jerk.”

“What happened, babe?”

A smile lurking around her mouth, she sauntered over to the bed in that loose-hipped way of hers and sat down beside him. Bracing one hand on his chest, she leaned over and gave him a soft, deliberately provocative kiss.

“Takes credit until something goes wrong, then throws me under the damn bus.”

“One of those guys I know can kill someone with his bare hands.”

She laughed against his mouth. “You know just what to say to cheer me up.”

She softly brushed her mouth against his and licked his bottom lip slowly—very slowly—making his pulse erratic.

“I try.” Opening his mouth beneath hers, Wicked raised his head just enough to deepen the kiss, resolutely keeping his hands beneath his head. He wondered how she would react to his total acquiescence, granted it didn’t kill him by degrees. But fuck, what a way to go.

She changed the angle of her head, perfecting the seal of her mouth against his, then she smoothed her hand down his chest and up under his T-shirt. Holding his head immobile with her other hand, she deepened the kiss and pulled his shirt out of his waistband, then lightly dragged her thumbnail across his nipple. Wicked jerked, her touch sending a sharp current of sensation through him, and his heart went into overdrive when she lightly rolled the hardened bead with her fingers.

He wanted to grab her and drag her on top of him, but her seduction was too sweet, too welcome, too arousing to let go. With a wild flurry of excitement building in him, he tightened his muscles against her tormenting touch, yielding his mouth to hers as she continued the kiss. Just as she stroked the inside of his bottom lip with her tongue, she trailed her fingernail down the hard ridge of flesh beneath his fly, and the dual sensations nearly put Wicked through the roof. His breathing turned heavy, and it took every ounce of control he had to remain still and unmoving beneath her lightly exploring hands and mouth. She stroked the full length of his hard, thick arousal again, and he sucked in a ragged breath, releasing a guttural sound against her mouth when she trailed her nails between his legs and down the sensitive base.

Working her mouth slowly against his, she shifted slightly, then used both hands to undo his belt. Wicked lifted his hips off the mattress, and she pulled the belt free of the loops and dropped it on the floor, then slid her long fingers beneath his waistband. Her intimate touch electrified him, and he lifted his head and drew her tongue deeply into his mouth, the pulsating hardness in his groin nearly exploding as she carefully drew his zipper down. With the same slow care, she freed him, and he abruptly ceased to breathe. Unable to remain passive one second longer, he caught her by the back of the head and ground his mouth hungrily against hers, heat searing through him as she smoothed her thumb over the slick tip of his arousal.

Grasping her face between his hands, Wicked gazed at her, his breathing labored. Her eyes dark and heavy-lidded, her full, sensual mouth swollen from the urgency of his kiss, she was his ultimate fantasy. His hands circling her neck, he stroked the line of her jaw with his thumbs, her pulse frantic beneath the heels of his hands. He wanted her naked on top of him, he wanted to be buried so deep inside her that he would become part of her, and he wanted to let go of the heat that had him hard and erect.

He wanted her all over him, naked and all over him.

She took a deep, unsteady breath; then she kissed both his eyes closed. “Stay right there,” she whispered. She pulled free of his hold, and Wicked clenched his teeth against the sharp sense of separation, the ache in him growing heavier. Resting one arm over his eyes, he tried not to think, not to feel. He was at the point where a single touch could set him off, and the thought of sinking deep inside her was enough to send him over the edge.

He heard her. Then there was the brush of her silky hair spilling against his chest when she leaned over and gave him a soft, seeking kiss. He let his breath go in a shaky rush and took her face between his hands, moving her head in counterpoint to his as he took control and explored her mouth. She let him take what he wanted, then with an unsteady sigh, she drew back. He realized that she had stripped out of her clothes, and he brushed his knuckles against the swell of her breasts. He heard her breath catch, and she moved her hand down his torso.

Wicked clenched his teeth and sucked in a deep breath when she took him in her hand, stroking him with the lightest of touches. Her gaze locked on his, she stroked him again, and his face contorted at the sharp, intense pleasure that ricocheted through him. Kat cupped him in both hands, and Wicked rose up on one elbow and caught her behind the head, pulling her toward him. She resisted. Moistening her lips, she held his gaze for an instant longer, then looked down. His heart hammered like a wild thing in his chest as he watched her stroke him, her touch firm. He gritted his teeth. Need and want and a fever of desire reached a flash point. Unable to take it anymore, he caught her by the back of the neck and rolled, carrying her onto her back against the mattress. Urgently finding her mouth with his, he drew up her knees and roughly settled himself in the cradle of her thighs. Emitting a low groan, he entered her, his awareness shattering into a sunburst of sensation. Then he slipped into a place where there was nothing except him and Kat—and driving urgency.

It took him a long time before he could relax his hold on her. But finally, he was able to collect enough strength to ease back a little. Kat had a fierce grip on him. Shifting his hold, he lifted her hair out of the way, then protectively cradled her face against his chest, his hand cupped at the base of her neck. He brushed a kiss against her hair, then rubbed his thumb along her heated skin. “Hey,” he whispered unevenly, “how are you doing, babe?”

She nodded once, hugging him even tighter. Wicked smiled a little, then kissed her again, a huge lump of tenderness jamming up his chest. He held on to her for a moment longer, then tried to shift his weight, but she gripped him. “No.”

Lifting a thick strand of hair from her damp neck, he tipped his head and kissed her shoulder. “It’s warmer under the covers,” he murmured.

“I don’t care.”

Wicked chuckled. “Well, I do.”

Kat tightened her hold and shook her head. Not particularly hot on the idea. Wicked grinned and hugged her, then shifted his hold. “I’ll do all the work, then.” He moved up enough that his back was against the wall and Kat was straddling him. Grabbing the top blanket, he pulled it and wrapped it around her body.

“I love feeling your powerful muscles move over me.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You could have helped.”

She lazily stroked the back of his neck. “No, my way was much better—for me.”

His smile deepened, and he stroked her hip. He held her for a few more minutes, then kissed the curve of her jaw, experiencing a rush of tenderness. He could stay like this forever.

He smoothed his hand across her firmly muscled back, then gave her a little squeeze. “You feel pretty damn good, too.”

She lifted her head and stared at him for several seconds, the green of her eyes laser sharp. Her eyes roamed his face as if she was memorizing everything about him. “You have a beautiful jaw, so strong and well-formed.”

“Uh, thanks. You have beautiful…everything,” he whispered against her skin, his voice breaking. “So beautiful, Kat.”