Skin Deep

Skin Deep An At the Ready Story

By Katie Blu

Resplendence Publishing, LLC http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

Resplendence Publishing, LLC 2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349 Daytona Beach, FL 32118

Skin Deep Copyright © 2012 Katie Blu Edited by Darlena Cunha and Liza Green Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com

Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-461-1

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Electronic Release: January 2012

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

To my fellow At the Ready authors, Simone Anderson and Emma Hillman:

Who knew an entire anthology could be planned and executed from a twitter conversation about hot men? This was just one of those ideas that had to happen.

To the fans who are interested in seeing more: we’re on Twitter @MiaWatts (writing as Katie Blu half the time), @DropTheGlasses (that would be Emma Hillman), and @SimoneAnderson7. We’d love to hear from you. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be a part of our next joint project planning session ala Twitter.

Chapter One

Nebraska was barely warm in his grave and all Hotch could think about was fucking Nebraska’s girl. As crass as it sounded, as irreverent as it felt, he needed one last connection with his best friend. Hotch scrubbed a hand over his face, wishing he’d thought to bring a flask. It would help ease the pain. Something had to. The last time he’d seen the easy-going, tow-headed Nebraska native Troy O’Neal, they had been in the Gulf. There’d been nothing new about the maneuver, no chinks in the game plan. They’d stood inside the Navy SEAL modified submarine, waiting for orders to deploy. The trunk had been silent. Nebraska had sent him one of his wide, toothy grins as the doors locked and the compartment filled with seawater. The pressure equalized. The five of them would swim up the side of the sub to the breathing station near the top, conserving their rebreathers for the long swim to shore. Then they would hang out at the breathing station waiting for the last ten members of the Skins team. But something had gone wrong. The outer door jammed eighteen inches from the bottom. They were used to working in tight spaces, so when the opening held steady, Hotch and the others had squeezed through with their rebreathers in hand, instead of on their backs. Nebraska held the team record for holding his breath underwater, and he waved the others on until he could wedge through to safety. The sickening clarity of memory replayed the rusty, cranking sound of steel against steel as the doors unjammed, reversed and crushed his best friend’s ribs in an unyielding vise. Hotch had known instantly that it was too late. It was the flag of blood trailing from the corner of Nebraska’s mouth that had given it away well before the lifeless float of his limbs.

Bile still filled Hotch’s throat when he thought about it—when he remembered the muted shouts through the trunk porthole where the other men impotently watched. Hotch had planted his feet on the door, grabbing Nebraska’s arms and pulling with everything he had. One of the other team members had held back at the sound of the door closing instead of swimming up to the docking station. He’d tried to get the rebreather into Nebraska’s mouth. Nebraska’s ribs crackled beneath the steel jaw. His body tore in a cloud of blood before they finally got the door stopped. Half in, half out, bisected and all dead, Hotch was left to float there, holding Nebraska’s upper body. Darkness closed around Hotch’s vision. An auxiliary trunk opened. Divers pried his fingers from Nebraska’s body and pushed it inside the trunk lock for the last group to retrieve. Too deprived of oxygen and losing consciousness, Hotch finally accepted a rebreather. Two teammates took either arm and swam him to the breathing station. Commander Hawking ordered them to proceed with the mission. Death was an expected outcome in this job, he’d said later. If you survived, that was a government perk. It still left a sour taste in Hotch’s mouth. A hand dropped on his shoulder, bringing him back to the moment. Nebraska’s mom pulled out the chair beside him and sat. Hotch took her hand between his. “You holding up okay, Mrs. O’Neal?” “The only easy day was yesterday,” she quoted the SEAL training mantra with a sad twist to her lips. It hurt to look at her. She had the same slightly strawberry tint to her blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes. Her callused hand between his larger ones, made him think of other things, like what would happen next for her? Who would take care of her now that Nebraska was gone? A widow and now childless, she lived alone on land she’d long since leased out to neighboring farmers. He froze out the thoughts as they came, preferring the emotional wasteland where he’d been operating since Nebraska had died. “Whatever you need, Mrs. O’Neal, you tell me,” he said. Her eyes welled up with tears. “You don’t owe me anything.” She patted his hands with her other one. “He was like a brother to me,” Hotch confessed. “I know.”

“I couldn’t get to him.” He stopped himself from saying more. The mission had been secret and he wasn’t sure how much Nebraska’s mom had been told about the accident. “I know,” she said softer still, cupping his cheek. “He’d have known too.” Hotch took another deep breath. “I mean it, Mrs. O’Neal. Anything you need, I’ll take care of it.” Mrs. O’Neal turned her head, her eyes locking on Nebraska’s girl. “She needs you.” “Erin?” She barely resembled the faded picture Nebraska had kept of her in his breast pocket. Mrs. O’Neal nodded. “I married a Navy man, and I knew the risks. When I lost my husband, I at least had that much comfort. I can say the same for my son. My boys died in service to their country. But Erin won’t be told anything about Troy’s death. She won’t have anyone to talk to or anyone who will talk to her.” “I can’t tell her much.” “But you can be there for her, son.” Mrs. O’Neal’s light blue eyes were direct. “You were Troy’s best friend. She was his best girl. He was going to ask her to marry him next Christmas.” Hotch nodded, remembering the clear joy on Nebraska’s face when he’d shown Hotch the ring. He’d vibrated with so much life it seemed impossible that he’d been extinguished so young. That his lifeless body, trapped between the trunk and the ocean and waiting limply for the mission to end while Hotch had been powerless to save him. To give him the dignity of pulling him to dry dock moments after it had happened. All the impending potential for joy, crushed into impotence in the span of a few heartbeats and one mission away from proposing to his girl. He wondered if Erin would forgive him. He couldn’t forgive himself. She nodded in conversation with a family member over a plate of untouched potato salad. The ham and cheese bun resembled more of a loadstone than sustenance. She was gracious and more beautiful than Nebraska had let on. Hotch tried to remember things he’d heard about her. Green eyes, brown hair. That stuff he could see for himself, but the other things Nebraska had told him about her, the fact that she preferred wild flowers to roses, had a birthmark smudge under her left shoulder blade, that she made love with her eyes closed and didn’t get along with her father—those were things he knew that weren’t visible. Those were things Nebraska had discovered and passed along to his best friend.

Mrs. O’Neal dropped a peck on his cheek, tearing his attention away from the girl for a moment as she reminded him that he needed to talk to Erin. She had questions, Mrs. O’Neal told him. Who the hell didn’t? Hotch wondered. But he agreed. Nebraska would want him to. And Hotch had something to give her, some little piece that he held onto that belonged to her now that Nebraska was dead. Hotch walked over to her. Erin looked at him through eyes the color of cloudy green sea glass. She blinked at him distractedly but finished her conversation with a woman next to her. He wondered if everything felt like it moved in slow motion to her too. The voices were muted, as though the words were spoken through cotton, the intensity of the industrial fluorescent tubes overhead leeched the color from faces and clothing alike, and though they were in a fellowship hall where noise echoed dully, Hotch couldn’t shake the dreamlike feel of his surroundings. Except for her. She gave his eyes an anchor. She loosened the tight fist of emotion that banded his lungs. He didn’t even feel anything beyond the wool cuffs of his naval uniform. Numbness. That’s what it was. His whole body, all his senses had died with Nebraska O’Neal. The older woman moved on, and Erin lifted her face to give him her full attention. She looked tired. Did she feel numb too? “Erin, I’m—” “Lieutenant Micah Hotchkiss. Hotch. He talked about you,” she said. She didn’t smile. Her eyes grew moist and though she blinked the tears back, her gaze didn’t waver. Nebraska would have been proud of her strength. Hotch was, and he was only half in love with her based on rose-colored stories told by a lovesick SEAL. She’d been myth for so long—someone he’d been nearly convinced Nebraska had made up. But looking at her now, he could see why his friend had been over the moon for her. As soon as he thought it, the guilt took over, and he pushed the fledgling stir of attraction aside. Some best friend he was. “I have something of his for you.” Hotch reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a worn, faded picture of Nebraska kissing a laughing Erin’s cheek. “He took it everywhere.” She accepted it, tears falling freely now. He wouldn’t have known she was crying if he hadn’t seen it. She made no noise. He also held out a key. “This is his too. I have the box in my car.”

“What is it?” Hotch shifted his weight. He hadn’t prepared an explanation. There really wasn’t an adequate way to describe the kill-box filled with all the things a soldier didn’t want family to know about him. Usually it was up to the buddy to get rid of it. In this case, Hotch had been instructed to give it to her. Nebraska never had anything to hide anyway. “Something he asked me to give you in the event of his death.” She nodded. “The kill-box.” She knew? “He told me about it. I just forgot. I never expected him to die.” She laughed through the tears. “Youth is invincible, right? And the SEALs, they never give up.” “He didn’t give up.” Her eyes pled with him to continue. How could he? Even if he were allowed to tell her the details, would she want to know that her lover’s last minutes were crushing pain and drowning? That he’d been split in half? That the only fortunate thing about the way he’d died is that his rib must have punctured his heart and killed him seconds before his body was torn in two? The alternative suffering would have been more horrific than the actual death. Hotch still had the nightmares, replaying over and over, about how he could have saved Nebraska. How he should have been the one who waved the others on. Nebraska had someone to live for back home. Hotch didn’t. It should have been him. “I need to get out of here,” Erin blurted, gripping his forearm. “Take me out of here? I need to be alone, but I don’t want to be—alone.” He nodded, pulling his arm back until their hands touched, then he squeezed her fingers. “We’ll get that box.” “Thank you.” He understood. Words were useless. They spilled from between numb lips with about as much sentiment as cold oatmeal. The words were a distraction from the pain inside, from the flight of thought and the ache of loss. He had no use for them, and she appeared just as fatigued from trying to use words adequately, of trying to think of responses when all her being just wanted to feel and keep feeling because Nebraska no longer could. Because Nebraska was dead and gone and no amount of stupid, pointless talking about it would bring him back. No amount of wishing would reverse it. He knew. He’d tried. He’d begged. He’d failed.

Hotch’s head pounded with unshed tears. His throat clogged with emotion, the high burn behind his eyes spreading to his temples and the urge to run and run and run hitting him so hard that Hotch shook as he held Erin’s hand and barreled through the chapel doors into the night air. Winter slapped him hard across the face, waking him enough to realize that he dragged her out there, and she jogged to keep up. Slowing, he drew her close to his side, put his arm around her. “I’m sorry.” She looked up just as wordless and lost as he felt. Her lips trembled, and he knew that feeling. He knew how unspoken her grief was, and he just wanted to make it better. For both of them. To make his hands stop shaking. To make her lips stop quivering. To still any recrimination from them that she might have because Hotch had failed to save Nebraska, and what kind of man did that make him? He fumbled with the keys to his SUV and slid onto the driver’s seat as he reached for the kill box. He held it for a moment, fearful of handing over the last thing of Nebraska’s he had. He’d do this thing, and it would be over. Nebraska would really be gone then. There would be nothing left. He looked at her, trying to find the right words with which to present her the box. Tears slid down her cheeks. Her sob broke free. He didn’t think, he just acted. The box hit the passenger seat and he pulled her between his knees, holding her as tight as he could. He buried his face in her shoulder. She turned her head, crying into his neck, her arms so tight around him, he felt like their bodies had fused. Her tears gave his permission to fall as his defenses dissolved in her arms. He rocked with her. Mutual solace from mutual pain, and like a soul-wrenching fire it ate him alive from the inside. Erin stroked his hair. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered over and over. Though her voice broke with emotion and tears wet her face, she continued to reassure him. Didn’t she know it was his fault? He could have died instead, and she wouldn’t be grieving. None of this would have happened because he didn’t have a family. He’d spent a lifetime guarding his heart, and Nebraska had relentlessly weaseled his way in. A breaking spot in his emotional defenses he had not foreseen. Nebraska had gotten in there somehow and with his death, the crack became wider still as he accepted comfort from Erin.

Hotch pulled away far enough to stare at her. There was another one? Someone else who could sneak under his defenses? Her lips still shivered. Her eyes, colorless in the shadows, peered back at him through her anguish. He couldn’t fix the pain since he drowned in it too, but he could stop the trembling. He could do that. Hotch tipped his head and smoothed his mouth over hers. Just to warm them, he told himself. To connect with the last thread of Nebraska through Erin and nothing more, he insisted to his conscience. Erin leaned into it, clutched the back of his head with the same desperation he had tried to keep at bay. A tear flavored their lips, and Hotch knew a kiss wouldn’t be enough. He needed her like he needed air to breathe, like this fire needed his guilt to keep burning. In kissing her, he saw a glimmer of solace, just a whisper-like hope flickering in the distance of despair. And like the bastard he was, he followed it in mindless pursuit. But she parted her lips and tangled her tongue with his. The numbness slid away, and without its gauzy protection his soul rioted with grief, and pain, and feeling, making everything raw again. Making it new. Making it hurt, dear God it hurt so fucking bad. Slowly his arms woke. He pulled her onto his lap and twisted his body so that they were in the car. Erin broke away. He thought he’d overstepped, but she leaned out only to grab the door handled and close them away from the world. Their gazes clashed. White puffs of breath chased from their lips on the wisping tails of the previous one. Only a momentary calm in the storm that raged unceasingly, the break ended as quickly as it started, and he kissed her again. The seat gave out under him, and he jerked before understanding that she’d reclined them. His hands smoothed the outside of her thighs beneath her dress hem. She didn’t stop him and suddenly kissing wasn’t enough. He needed to feel her heat. It reminded him that life continued. They were both lonely. His fingers inched over the thin satin covering her pussy. It was warmed by her body and damp, and he hated it for holding anything of her away from him. With a grunt, he tugged it to the side and pushed his fingers deep inside her. Erin gasped sharply, her mouth open and hovering over his as though she hadn’t known where this was going. But she had, and she proved it when she sucked his bottom lip as she opened his belt buckle and zipper.

He lifted his hips, and she pushed his pants out of the way. Hotch barely pulled his fingers out before she grasped his cock and sank on it. He groaned. She swallowed the sound. He held her hips. She lifted and sank, rocking her hips on the downstroke. Erin cried, but, then, so did he. He shared her grief and flooded his body with the intensity of all the emotions his pathetic human soul could manage. He hadn’t died. But he’d die a mini-death with her tonight. Both inevitabilities occupying a place at opposite ends of the spectrum. One tied up the loose ends of living. The other celebrated living. One extreme to the other. There was no in between with grief. Death or life. Love or hate. All or nothing. It was the SEAL way, or maybe it was humanity. Erin rode him. She closed her eyes and weirdly he remembered what Nebraska had said. She makes love with her eyes closed. Nebraska had thought it was cute. Hotch didn’t have an opinion on it, except gratitude that they could both get lost in pleasure, alone. He closed his eyes too. He bucked into her. She panted wildly, making soft, high-pitched noises as though she were reaching for something almost within her grasp. He focused on the sound, using it to drive his need higher. It took him by surprise when it happened. She pounded his cock; her body milked him greedily. Cum ripped from him without preamble. His climax was sharp, intense, and satisfying as blessed fatigue soaked into him. Erin cuddled against his chest. He shifted her, tucking her shoulder underneath his arm and holding her. Her face touched his, side by side almost, though her legs still covered his lap. The numbness didn’t return, but neither did the acute loss. Grief was given its outlet, and was now shared with someone equally stricken. His breathing eased. She’d barely stirred, but he knew she was awake from the occasional flutter of her eyelashes on his cheek when she blinked. From time to time a car door slammed, an engine started. Then a long time passed, and he heard no other cars. “Can I drive you home?” he asked. “I’d like that. It’s been a long day.” And once again, words sifted through the air, meaningless, superficial, with no acknowledgement of the counseling their bodies had given each other. This time, it was a relief.

Chapter Two

Two Years Later

Dad was home. That had meant Hotch was back from the Middle East. It had also meant she’d had about a day and a half to find him before the debriefing ended, and they were released on leave. That’s why she stood outside Hell’s Dune, watering hole to the nearby naval base, at nine p.m. on a Friday night. By tomorrow, he’d be gone. Now if only she could calm her thundering heart. A group of guys hooted as they walked by her. She ignored their catcalls. She’d been around military guys long enough to know what every other woman in America failed to recognize. Men would fuck you no matter what you looked like, as long as you were willing. It killed the mystique for her. Though she planned what she wanted to say to Hotch a million times over, the words failed her. Baring one’s soul was never easy, especially with the threadbare relationship they shared so far. Erin took a deep breath to fortify herself. Then before she thought better of it, she pushed open the heavy wooden door of Hell’s Dune. Gooding Naval base was coed. It made sense that the occupants of the favorite hangout would be, too. She dragged her gaze around the room, touching on all the things that reminded her of growing up as a Navy brat. The dartboard, the pool table well used and well scarred, the dusty chalkboard showing the current record holders in all things naval from underwater distances, to demolitions were hallmarks of the competitive nature inherent in the troops. The scent of old wood and whiskey

assailed her with familiarity. Faded team pictures ran the circuit of the room, labeled with each of the team names. Below them, a slim ledge of photographs lined up like silent sentinels, side by side each with its own upturned whiskey glass to commemorate the fallen soldiers and one last drink in their memory. Her gaze landed on Troy’s image. His serious snapshot still had the dance of humor in his eyes, as though the photographer had insisted Troy’s perpetual smile be quelled for the two seconds it took to take the photo, only to have him resume the minute the flash bulb dimmed. She missed him. He’d been her best friend and a tender lover when she’d needed one. She had no idea he’d intended to propose to her until she’d opened his kill-box and had seen the modest cushion cut solitaire inside. Mrs. O’Neal had confirmed it. Maybe she would have married him, too. Imagining her life without him seemed impossible. His tenderness, his smile, his calm way of assessing every situation while delving into life and soaking it up. It never failed to amaze her that he only absorbed the good. Ever hopeful, always optimistic, he approached life with the exuberance of a child and the surprising wisdom of a weathered farmer. He’d been a balm to her weary soul. His light had shined so brightly that not having it had made the future look dim in comparison. And then there was Hotch. She’d been spotted, she realized. He sat at the bar with friends. They all glanced at her. Hotch raised an inquiring brow. Erin walked to him, locking her eyes on her target lest she lose her nerve. Now or never, she reminded herself. In another day, he’d be gone. “Hi,” he said first. She smiled with relief. “Hi. Can we talk?” Her gaze searched his. He nodded briefly and stood. The guys teased him like they expected him to score. Yeah, she knew the way these guys thought. She’d lived around men just like them her whole life. It was always about diving and women. She tried not to let her annoyance show. As he stepped toward her, one of them called his name and threw something. Hotch caught it mid-air and examined it while the others laughed loudly. She saw what it was when he opened his palm to look at the projectile. A condom? Nice, she thought, rolling her eyes.

“Fuck you,” he snarled laughingly at them. He turned to her, his eyes still smiling. “C’mon. It’ll be quieter outside.” The monument beside Hell’s Dune overlooked the coast. Its pristine white bench and walls circled the stone with the names of lost sailors. Shadows flickered over them, stretching out the letters into long lines before sweeping them away again as the blue eternal flame danced in the protective embrace of the enclosure. “Not here,” she told him. Her throat tightened. “Here’s perfect,” he countered. “Here we can remember Nebraska together, and since that’s how you and I know each other, it seems fitting.” She tried to swallow around the growing lump of nervousness in her throat. She shook her head, took his hand, and pulled him toward the back of the building. “Not here. Please.” He stood rooted, studying her as though she were a puzzle to be worked out. Finally he relented and followed her out of sight of the parking lot and into the darkness. The patio wasn’t lit, despite the warm summer temperatures which could have drawn people outdoors. The ice freezer hummed by the back door of the bar. Waves crashed in the distance, comforting sounds carried on moist North Carolina summer air. God, this was hard, she thought. She’d just formulated what she wanted to say, when Hotch moved in close. Looking up at him was a mistake he took for permission. He leaned down and covered her mouth with his. She let him. Every racing thought stilled. Erin hadn’t meant to kiss him, but the moment their mouths touched it seemed like the perfect idea. Her arms slid around his shoulders as she pressed against him, accepted the kiss and welcomed him. Hotch moaned softly. His hands cupped her ass and he tucked her hips into his groin. She gasped at the intimacy of his rigid cock lining her pussy. Already her body quickened. She hadn’t seen him in eighteen months, hadn’t been with anyone since him at the funeral, and still her body remembered him intimately. “Hotch,” she murmured against his lips. She pulled back, trying to clear her mind and say what needed saying. “Erin.” He grinned, mimicking her. His smile faded. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. How’d you find me?”

For a moment, she was confused, then she remembered that Troy hadn’t told anyone about her. Not even his best friend, Hotch. But that wasn’t information she wanted to lead with. “You were stationed here with Troy.” “Yeah, but we just got back from our deployment. How’d you know I’d be here?” “I asked,” she stated simply. “That’s not important.” “You’re right,” he agreed, walking her backward until she hit the wall of the bar. “This is. I missed you, and I probably shouldn’t admit that considering how we know each other in the first place. That’s why I wanted to talk at the memorial.” His pressed soft kisses to her lips, jaw and neck. “Then I’d be reminded of all the reasons I’m supposed to keep my hands off you,” he whispered. Her insides melted at his husky confession. Now that she was pinned to the wall by his hips, he had free use of his hands and they cupped her breasts through the thin white Tee she wore. Her breath caught as every nerve in her body insisted she pay attention to what he was doing and shut up. “You have no idea how badly I want to get you naked,” he said. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He stepped back. She instantly felt cold, bereft. They were both breathing heavily. Hotch dropped his hands on his hips. Erin folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall for support. “So what’d you want to talk about?” he asked. “You did want to talk, right? That wasn’t girl-code for let’s go somewhere to fuck like bunnies, was it?” “Rough, but charming.” She laughed. “Charming’s good,” he said, taking a step toward her again. Erin licked her lips and tasted traces of whiskey. She didn’t like the stuff, but she might amend that determination if it tasted like him. The truth was, she had half-hoped to lose herself in Hotch again. Although considering how well that went last time, maybe that wasn’t her wisest choice. “There must be something really wrong with me,” he muttered. “Why?”

“My buddy’s funeral the first time, and next to a mariner’s memorial the second time. I have to be the most disrespectful shit in the Navy, to make two attempts to seduce Nebraska’s girl.” “Considering the circumstances, I don’t think he’d mind,” she offered. Hotch took another step toward her. She could circle her arms around him again if she wanted to. “I know he wouldn’t. He was that kind of guy. I can hear him in my head laughing and saying that if he can’t have you, one of us should.” His brow pulled together, and she wished there was enough light to really see his eyes. But there wasn’t, so she went with body language. He radiated guilt. “I feel like shit for even thinking about you like that,” he added. So did she. She also felt pretty shitty for not blurting out the reason for finding him. She should put an end to it and start talking. It was sure to kill any romantic inclinations lingering in the air. On the other hand, talking would kill any romantic inclinations lingering in the air. She smirked at herself. God, she was weak. “Yeah, me too.” Dating a Navy man, any military man for that matter, wasn’t the plan. They went off to war, and saw things in black and white. They were rigid, and it showed in their divorce rates. She knew firsthand the kind of pressure it put on a marriage. She saw her parents split up and had no interest in repeating their mistakes, despite the fact that the uniform drew her. Hotch lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His finger grazed her cheek as it came back down again. Hotch crowded her space, dominant and unafraid to admit he wanted her. He approached obstacles head on, just like Troy had said he did. That’s why she trusted she could come to Hotch with her current dilemma. It was just sticky, that’s all. “Hotch, I—” “Are you sticking around?” he asked. “Maybe. I don’t know. It depends.” He moved half a step closer until their bodies touched. She unfolded her arms and hooked her fingers in his belt loops. “Can I convince you to stay?”

Her head dropped back. Was a man supposed to have this much power over her? “Probably,” she admitted. He laughed. “Good. I’ll take that as a personal challenge.” “Of course you will.” He bent to kiss her neck. She made an embarrassingly needy sound she hoped he hadn’t heard. If his rumbling chuckle meant anything, he had. Hotch’s hand swept beneath her shirt to cup her breast again. She really liked it when he did that. Maybe she could enjoy this for a few minutes, and then they’d talk. Without all the sexual tension, she’d be able to talk to him without wanting all hands on her deck. They’d barely touched at the funeral. They hadn’t undressed and there’d been no foreplay, just grief sex. It was a breed of its own and nothing like what he was doing to her now. His thumb rubbed her nipple through her bra, the nail scraping deliciously until she couldn’t stand not having his hands on her skin. She knew it was a bad idea, but right then, she didn’t care. She knew Hotch better than any other man, and she knew, from Troy, that he wouldn’t treat her like crap. Erin let go of his belt loops to pull her Tee over her head. Reaching behind her back, she unhooked her bra and let it drop. Hotch immediately covered her breasts with his large warm hands. “One day I want there to be enough light to see these,” he murmured huskily. “It’s a progression, Hotch. Fully clothed sex, to dark outdoor sex, to whatever comes next.” “To lights on and no stitch of clothing sex,” he finished firmly. She laughed breathlessly. “We’ll see.” Hotch got on his knees, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. She hadn’t expected it and gasped as raw sensation and salt air bathed her naked breasts. Hotch unbelted her jeans and pushed them down her legs, helping her slip off her sandals and step out of them. Completely naked, she felt powerful, sexy, shameless as his hands explored every inch of her body and his mouth alternated between her nipples with equal torment. He eased his hand between her thighs and lightly scraped his nails back and forth on her pussy lips. Shivers tore through her ruthlessly, and she opened her stance to give him better access.

He took advantage. His fingers traced her folds as though he tried to memorize her feel. He moaned when he dipped a finger inside her. She felt every callused inch and squeezed around it. She was so wet for him he couldn’t miss her body’s reaction. He popped off her nipple. “Damn, that’s fast.” Her cheeks heated, and she bit her bottom lip, until suddenly his mouth was on her. His tongue lapped at her pussy while his fingers plunged inside, curling inward. Her hips jerked when those fingers found her g-spot. Erin lost her mind. Vaguely she became aware that she was sobbing uncontrollably as he rubbed the internal bundle of nerves and sucked her clit. The hard edge of his teeth on the sensitive nub drove her wild with need. She buried her hands in his hair and lifted her hips to him as wood scraped her shoulder blades. Bliss chased her down and rushed through her veins as orgasm took her over the edge, screaming his name. Hotch stood and pulled the recently airborne condom package from his pocket. She took it from him as he undid his pants and yanked off his shirt. They came together in a mad rush of straining bodies. Erin hiked her leg over his hips. He lifted her easily, helping her as she settled on his shaft. “I forgot how good you feel,” she rasped. “I didn’t forget a second of how you feel. Fuck, I missed this.” Erin locked her ankles around him, using her thighs to hold her body weight up and then lower onto his cock again. His hands on her ass and hips made it a joint effort. She arched her back, finding her rhythm. Hotch grunted, turning her so that her back bumped the ice maker instead of bar wall. He ground into her, pounding her cunt. Heat prickled her nerve endings all the way to the top of her head as the sound of his body working inside of hers married with the crashing waves of the nearby ocean. This was what sex was supposed to be. Mindless fucking, body tightening, the flicker of something deeply personal on the horizon as an out of reach possibility. God, she lived for that promise even though she never pursued the possibility of a relationship beyond what their bodies delivered.

His thrusts came harder. Her body stretched over each shivering friction-filled inch. He shifted again, and unhooked her legs forcing one to drop as he held the other in place, stabilizing them and narrowing her channel. Then his reached between them, trapping her clit under his thumb. Her world exploded as she came a second time. Erin held on, digging her nails into his shoulders. Another shout joined hers as Hotch rocked hard and held. Three smaller grinds followed as she finally came back to herself. Gasping for breath, she dropped her forehead on his shoulder. “Yeah, there could maybe be a next time,” she said. Hotch laughed, his body shaking against hers. She stood and awkwardly pulled on her pants and shoes. He handed her the bra and she noticed that he’d tucked himself away. They smiled at each other. “So you had something you wanted to talk about?” he reminded. He still held his shirt in his hand. Moonlight glinted mutely off his sculpted upper body and she wondered what she looked like to him. Erin retrieved her shirt from on top of the icemaker. “Erin,” a dark, angry voice snapped her name. She jerked her head around in alarm as her dad stormed toward them. “Commander Hawking?” Hotch asked. “Dad, wait,” Erin rushed to stop him before he spoke. “Dad?” Hotch growled, facing her again. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. “Dad, I’m handling this.” “Again, Erin? Fucking my men when you were barely out of high school was something I thought you’d grown out of. Put your clothes back on, immediately,” her dad barked at her. Erin held her ground. “You walked in on me. If seeing me in my bra is an issue, then turn around.” He faced Hotch. “You’ll be in my office at oh-six-hundred, Lieutenant.” “Yes, sir.” “No! Not, yes sir. Dad, I’m having a private discussion. You can go all SEAL commanding officer on him tomorrow. Right now, this is my time,” she argued. “SEAL, when is a CO not a CO?” her father demanded.

“Never, Commander Hawking, sir!” “Really? You’re going to pull rank on me, Dad?” This night was going to hell faster than her usual interactions with her dad. She pulled her shirt on. The full force of Commander Hawking’s glare turned on her. Even though it was too dark to see the glint in his eyes, she knew it was there, and that was enough to send a shiver down her spine. “Young lady. You play loose with my men. You are insubordinate, and you are a fool. I blame your mother. But there is one thing you shouldn’t mess with, and that’s the fatherless baby boy you have waiting for you at home, while you’re at Hell’s Dune whoring around.” “Dad!” The verbal slap nearly knocked the starch from her knees. Goddamn him! Just when she thought he couldn’t hurt her any more, he found a way. Commander Hawking pivoted on his heel and walked away. “Lieutenant! You have two minutes to tie up your conversation and hit the rack, then stay away from my daughter.” “Yes, sir, Commander Hawking, sir.” Hotch wheeled on her. “How many?” he barked. “What?” Her mind still reeled from her father’s attack. “How many men, under your dad’s command, have you slept with?” His angry tone wrapped around them like a menacing fist. “That’s out of context.” “How many, Erin?” “Two. A long time ago.” “What about Nebraska?” he pressed. “That’s different.” “So, three then. I must be lucky number four.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Is the kid Nebraska’s?” This wasn’t how she’d wanted to tell him. She shook her head. “Some other lucky sonofabitch? Jesus, Erin, how many guys have you slept with since he died?” “Just one,” she choked. “Stupidly, I just did it again.” The information must have sunken in. His hand dropped leadenly. “He’s mine?”

“He’s yours. That night in the car with you, neither one of us used protection. By the time I found out and decided to tell you, you’d been deployed. That’s why I’m here—what I wanted to talk to you about.” “Child support?” he asked bitterly. She took a step back, shocked. “Is that what you think? Okay, look, fine. Forget I said anything.” Erin followed the path her dad had taken. “When and if you ever want to meet him,” she threw back over her shoulder. “Let me know.” “I don’t have your number,” he yelled after her. “You’re a SEAL. Improvise!” Once the Navy reared its arrogant head, there was no talking normal human logic. It was as if they wore military blinders and quit speaking English. She turned and walked away. Finding her keys, she unlocked her car, started it up, and headed home. Her dad had managed to bungle the moment. Tears of frustration burned behind her eyes, but she refused to cry. What was worse was realizing that Hotch still had an effect on her. That sex with him after the funeral may have been equal parts grief and attraction. Okay, so there was no actual doubt that Hotch was sexier than hell. The man wore confidence like second skin, and the vulnerability in his eyes the night they’d laid Troy to rest had joined with her grief so perfectly that it spoke to her soul on a level she’d never known with another man. Time, distance, hadn’t changed it. His time on deployment seemed to have put a harder edge on him, but Hotch was still the dark haired, aqua-eyed hunk she remembered. Her mind filled with her son, drawing a smile from her. Besides, she was predisposed to be a soft touch for a guy who looked exactly like her son. From coloring, to the dimple in his cheek, the subtle cleft in his chin, to the lopsided smile. Toby’s was mostly toothless, but he was a dead-ringer for his father. She gave the car door a hardy slam when she arrived at the small home where she lived with her mother and son. Her mother was waiting at the open door for her, a look of concern on her face. “It went that well?” she asked sympathetically. Erin sighed her exasperation as she walked toward her mom. “How’s Toby?” “Asleep.” Erin hugged her. “Thank you for watching him again.”

“For my grandson? Any time.” She hugged her back and stepped aside to let Erin in. “What happened when you told him?” Erin blushed. “I didn’t. Dad sort of did.” “You told the commander?” “Dad interrupted us in a—compromising—moment, accused me of trying to seduce more of his Skins again, and then mentioned Toby.” Her mother covered her mouth, eyes wide and green above the tips of her fingers. “Heavens.” Erin plopped onto the couch. Her mother sat beside her. “Dad’s so stubborn. He’s never going to understand that I changed. He thinks I’m still eighteen trying to make him angry by undermining his authority with a subordinate.” “In all fairness, that was your primary mission for most of your life.” “I know, but now I have a sweet boy in the next room and I just want him to know his father. Mine too, if dad will ever meet him,” Erin said sadly. “Did you give him the journal copy?” her mother asked after a minute. “Not yet.” “You don’t have to. Troy left it to you, not him.” The box. She couldn’t call it the kill-box anymore, because Troy had breathed so much of himself into that tiny treasure. Inside, there’d been an engagement letter among some other small personal items he’d left for her. One was a flashdrive. In loading it onto her laptop she’d discovered years of journal notes. It was through them that she’d seen herself and Hotch the way Troy has seen them. “Because he planned to propose to me. He trusted me to know what to do with it.” She had rested against the couch and now she rolled her head to the side to look at her mother. “He loved Hotch like a brother. He should know that.” She’d glimpsed the inner workings of Troy’s mind and his complete respect for the man he called his friend. If she were being honest, she’d admit to having fallen a little in love with Hotch as she finished healing after Troy’s death, and as the life Hotch had planted in her, grew each day. “There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” her mother asked. “Hmm?” Distracted from her thoughts, she refocused on her attention.

“What else is bothering you about the journal?” “Nothing. Well, no, not nothing. I think.” “That clears it up,” her mother teased. Erin laughed. “Sorry. I just keep thinking that the journal was written for a reason. More than just collecting his thoughts. But toward the last few months he was alive, it’s like he’s trying to tell me something.” “He didn’t know he was going to die, honey.” Erin sighed softly. “True, but these guys are like dad. They’re always prepared for the possibility that the next mission is their last. They have to feel like there’s something out there carrying on their lives for them. Maybe his journal is like that. Once he knew I was in the picture, he needed me to help carry on the legacy of who he is and what he loved.” Her mother’s expression grew sad. “I couldn’t live with that pressure. Your dad never understood why his missions left me an emotional wreck. He loves the Navy. She’s not a sharing mistress.” “And neither were you,” Erin offered, dropping her hand on her mom’s arm. Her mother took a deep breath and blew it out. The divorce had taken its toll on her, and Erin wished her father could see her mother like this. Maybe then, he would’ve fought a little harder to keep her. “It doesn’t matter. When the Navy called, he went. When I called, he explained why he couldn’t come to me.” Her eyes welled up as she looked earnestly at Erin. “I want so much more for you. More for Toby. You deserve to have a man who thinks about his family first.” “That’s why they serve, mom.” “That’s the military line and you know it. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how many birthday parties and school plays your father missed. I’ve lost count of the number of times you cried over him. Do you want that for Toby?” “No.” “So maybe finding your soul mate is not the primary goal of the United States Navy. I’m sorry Troy died. I’m not sorry you didn’t marry him. If saying that makes me a bad person, then I can accept that.” Erin squeezed her mother’s forearm. “It doesn’t make you bad. It makes you a mother who wants a better marriage for her daughter than she had for herself. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, honey. Give the journal to Hotch. Introduce him to Toby, then wash your hands of any involvement with the military. We can move away, if you want. I’ll come with you and we’ll have a small little family of three to support each other.” Erin tried to smile, but the offer felt funny to her. Cutting strings definitely appealed to her, but she wanted better for Toby. She wanted Toby to know his father the way she’d never really connected with her own. Even if Hotch pushed her away, Toby deserved the right to know his father. “No, Mom. This is your home. I’m just here until they ship out again.” “It’s a rental. I can make my home anywhere.” “You could, but you’d miss seeing Dad.” She bent and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll move here permanently. Toby could use a grandpa, if Dad would come to accept us.” Erin rose and walked to Toby’s room. He cuddled under the thin blanket, fists under his chin, knees drawn so that his butt pushed up like a little snail. His dark hair, so much like his fathers, fell over his brow and she knew his beautiful aqua-blue eyes better than she knew her own reflection. Toby broke her heart and healed it in the span of one of his quick smiles. His laughter made her days seem better and his spontaneous joy was more precious to her than anything else she’d ever experienced. If Hotch didn’t want to meet him, she could keep Toby all to herself. If he did, would Toby bond with him? Would he cry when his daddy was deployed next time? God, would she? The damn journal had told her too much about the man. Stuff that she couldn’t ignore. Stuff that rationalized his attachment to the military, and stuff that made it impossible for her to leave without making sure Hotch had a chance to get involved in Toby’s life. Hotch would be on leave in the morning, but he’d be back as soon as the Navy called. Erin would know when that was because of her father’s schedule. She brushed the baby-soft hair off Toby’s forehead and stroked down his small, round cheek. She’d give Hotch the span of his leave to get used to the idea. Then she was going to hunt him down. He could take out his frustration on her if he wanted to, but Toby was innocent. Toby was going to have the best of everything she could give him, even if that meant dealing with Hotch’s unfounded contempt.

Chapter Three

“Report for duty at oh-eight-hundred in two weeks. Keep your cell phones on in case we’re recalled sooner. Until then, Skins dismissed. Enjoy your time off, boys. You’ve deserved it,” Commander Hawking barked the next morning. The team relaxed as they packed up their duffels and slung them over their shoulders. Commander Hawking glared at Hotch. “Hotch. My office.” “Yes, sir.” Hotch followed him out of the briefing room and into Commander Hawking’s office. He closed the door behind him, knowing he was in for it. You didn’t fuck the Commander’s daughter outside a bar, get caught, and expect him to high-five you. Hotch prepared for the worst. “Sit, Lieutenant.” Hotch dropped his bag and sat. Commander Hawking poised behind his desk as though he meant to take his seat, leaned on the surface instead. He pursed his lips and stared Hotch down for several seconds. Hotch didn’t move a muscle. “Are you in a relationship with my daughter, Lieutenant?” “No, sir.” Commander Hawking’s eyes narrowed. “How would you classify what happened behind Hell’s Dune?” Hotch couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable than if Command Hawking had witnessed the whole thing in full lighting. It took everything in him not to squirm. “I asked you a direct question, Lieutenant. I expect a direct answer.” “Yes, sir.” Hotch’s ears burned with a blush. “It was a hook up, sir.”

Commander Hawking seemed to have some difficulty containing his rage. His lips worked as his cheeks turned ruddy. His fingers curled onto the desktop. Finally, he stood, clasping his hands behind his back. “She’s a mother, for God’s sake.” “Yes, sir.” “She has a pattern, Lieutenant. She likes to make me angry. Always has. She picks men from my teams for that reason. It’s not love, son. It’s emotional butchery.” Hotch frowned. “You’ve been a Skins for five years, Hotch.” Commander Hawking seemed to have gotten control of his anger. He let the formality slide into off-duty conversation. “Why would you hook up with my daughter?” “Permission to speak freely?” Hotch asked, just to be sure he’d read his commander correctly. Hawking waved a hand. “Of course.” He sounded tired, disappointed. It was the disappointment that made this conversation so difficult. Hotch respected Hawking. Hotch had spent his Naval career improving until he knew he was ready for the SEALs. Even in those days, he knew Hawking was as tough as they got. Hotch had wanted to be assigned to him. He’d had a sense of relief when Hawking barked orders all the way through training. Disappointing him hurt. Yet truth would be respected. Hotch wasn’t looking forward to this confession. “I met her at Nebraska’s funeral. I knew her before last night.” “Why would she be at his funeral?” Hawking asked. “They were dating, sir. Nebraska bought a ring. They were going to get married.” Commander Hawking sat heavily in his chair. “We were both upset,” Hotch continued. He didn’t relish the idea of telling the Commander that last night hadn’t been the first time he’d had sex with Erin. He’d have to eventually, considering the Commander didn’t seem to know the child was Hotch’s. “Same tricks, over and over,” he said tiredly. “I didn’t do such a great job raising her, Hotch.”

“With all due respect, she’s an amazing woman. Or, I thought so until last night.” Hotch shook his head wondering how the same incredible woman Nebraska had talked about could be the same vindictive bitch the commander talked about. “Stay away from Erin. I’ll take it personally if you don’t.” Hawking’s quiet words didn’t have the resonance of a threat, but they were. You didn’t burn the commander. You certainly didn’t do it twice if he gave you another shot. “What about your grandson, sir?” Commander Hawking stiffened. “What about him?” “She said he’s mine. I don’t know how to be a parent, sir, but involvement may be required.” Hawking’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Yours? When you said she was at Nebraska’s funeral, I thought that meant he was Nebraska’s. Now you’re telling me he’s yours.” Hawking leaned forward again. “I take it when you met at the funeral you weren’t shaking hands, Lieutenant.” His words snapped at Hotch. Hotch winced, then fell back in to his subordinate role. “We were grief-stricken, sir.” “Which translates to mean that your cock was off its leash.” “Sir, I—” “Dismissed!” Hotch rose to his feet automatically. He saluted and left before he realized he’d never gotten an answer to his question about the boy. He ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck me,” he muttered. Erin’s last words to him took on a new twist. Improvise, she’d said. On the job, he prided himself on it. Like this? He was fucked. ****

“Improvise?” he muttered two days later as he scraped shaving cream off his jaw. Improvise locating her number? Sure. Improvise parenthood? No. Who was she kidding? You didn’t improvise having a kid. He rinsed his face, patted it dry and smoothed on the cooling aftershave gel. It was mindless activity he needed, and now that

it was done, he dropped his hands on either side of the sink basin and stared at his reflection. He didn’t look like a dad. He fucking hadn’t wanted to be a dad. Ever. He could show a person how to prep a combat bag and tricks on conserving energy while swimming. He could hook a man’s arm and hoist him out of the water from a high-speed boat. He could do a helluva lot of things, but he didn’t have the training to be some brat’s daddy. You had to have a dad to know how to be one. Hotch grunted as he pushed away from the sink, pulled the terry cloth towel from his waist and stormed into his bedroom naked. He spared a glance to his dresser top where a sticky note with Erin’s phone number and temporary address mocked him. Finding it hadn’t been a problem. It was as simple as calling Mrs. O’Neal. He sure as fuck wouldn’t have asked Commander Hawking for it. He pulled up his short-briefs and jeans. Rubbing his hair vigorously, he knocked the extra water off. He reached for his cell phone and put in her number. His thumb hovered over the call button. He hit the save feature instead. After dressing in a worn gray cotton tee shirt, he padded around the corner to the kitchen. It was too early for whiskey, and he wasn’t much of a drinker anyway. Coffee would have to be the fortifier of choice today. Staying away from Erin would’ve been easier if she hadn’t told him about the kid. He still didn’t know what to do about him, but information gathering was a requirement of any military operation. He’d start there. Half an hour later, he’d stood on Erin’s doorstep for five minutes, not as confident. The door opened. Erin looked at him with impatience. “Were you going to knock eventually?” “Yes.” “Okay. Then I’ll wait.” She shut the door on him. Despite his surprise, Hotch snorted a laugh. She looked as good as he remembered. Better, even. He’d never seen her in full daylight. The funeral and the evening bar fuck had been in the dark. The yellowed quality of Hell’s Dune lighting didn’t count. Long, dark brown hair and distinctly green eyes, without a touch of yellow or brown in them, lean body muscled like a toned runner, were attributes his libido wanted to study a lot more closely. But he’d come here for the kid.

Hotch knocked. The door didn’t budge, so he knocked a little louder. Erin opened the door, stretching her arm up the side and cocking an eyebrow at him. “Yes?” she said. “How do you know he’s mine?” Hotch asked. Erin’s eyes flashed and she slammed the door in his face. “Erin! It’s a legitimate question!” The door opened again, but this time an older woman with silvered blonde hair in a short bob, smiled up at him tightly. “Keep your bad manners on the stoop, and I’ll let you in. Insult Commander Hawking’s daughter again, and I’ll tie your balls in a knot and shove them up your ass,” she said sweetly. “Don’t think I can’t. I was married to the Navy too many years not to learn a few tricks.” Hotch bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Yes, ma’am.” The woman nodded. Her eyes drifted over him shrewdly, then she sighed. “I know he’s yours because I know my daughter isn’t loose, even if you don’t. But aside from that, there’s no mistaking who he looks like.” A surge of pleasure prickled the inside of his chest. “He looks like me?” She opened the door wider. “They’re in the kitchen having lunch. See for yourself.” Hotch stepped around her. “Thank you, Mrs. Hawking.” “We’ll see if you still thank me afterward. She’s not happy with you.” He didn’t bother to comment. He wasn’t pleased with himself either. He also couldn’t say he liked how Erin had broken the news to him. He didn’t know how to feel, if he was being honest with himself. He headed in the direction Mrs. Hawking had indicated. Passing through a short butler pantry, he entered a large, bright kitchen. Erin’s gaze met his over the top of a padded highchair. They held a warning as she circled a spoon and made an airplane noise. Her lips parted as the spoon went in for a landing. “Mm!” she said to the unseen child. “Is that yummy?” The child gurgled happily. Hotch readied himself and walked further into the kitchen. He pulled a chair out on the other side of the table and sat down before he looked at the boy. Struck silent, he stared at the child. The child stared back as though equally shocked to see him.

His black hair stood up all around his head, with several longer pieces brushed off his face. It was evident that Erin had tried to tame the wild locks, because some looked damp as though she’d tried to flatten them with water. The boys wide blue-green eyes, rimmed with coal colored lashes, stared back at him unblinkingly. Rosy rounded cheeks worked as he smacked his mouth on the pureed carrot dribbling off his bottom lip. Hotch grinned. The boy grinned back and something snagged hard around Hotch’s heart. It only pulled tighter when the child raspberried his lips and pointed at him. “Dee dee dee dee dee dee!” he said, each non-word running together until the final one, which ended on a breathy vowel. “Jesus,” Hotch whispered. “Still wondering who his daddy is?” Erin asked dryly. He swallowed hard around words that wouldn’t form. He shook his head instead. Emotion crowded him. What Hotch had thought were complicated feelings on her stoop, paled in comparison to what he felt when looking at this kid. History, family, future, collided around his attraction for Erin and his guilt over Nebraska. This was supposed to be Nebraska’s child, not his. Nebraska’s life and future, not the future of a man who didn’t have family and didn’t know how to be a father. “What’s his name?” he asked, his voice sounding as tight as his chest felt. “Tobias Micah Hawking. We call him Toby.” “Toby,” Hotch said trying out the name. “You named him after me?” “You’re his dad. I wasn’t sure if there would be more than a name for him to attach to. Family’s important.” Toby squealed so high he had to raise his little brows and squint an eye to reach the pitch he wanted. Hotch laughed. Toby giggled delightedly. “Want to feed him?” Erin asked, holding the jar of food out to him across the table. “I don’t know how.” “Improvise.” Hotch smiled wryly. “You’re fond of throwing SEAL terminology around, aren’t you?” “I’ve had to live the mottos for a while now.”

Hotch got up and came to her. She handed him the jar, which he took, as he sat in her seat and she went to the kitchen sink. He looked at her back for a second. It didn’t appear as though she intended to give him any pointers. “Okay, kid, it’s just you and me. Be gentle.” Hotch scooped up some carrots on the end of the rubberized mini-spoon and brought it to Toby’s lips. Toby snapped his mouth on it and then held on. Hotch tugged. Toby smiled, showing four tiny teeth clamped onto the rubber. Carrot spilled out the sides of his mouth. “He’s leaking,” Hotch said. “He’s testing you. He might be a baby, but he’s nobody’s fool,” Erin replied. “Smart kid.” The water in the sink stopped running. Erin came back. “We were going to take a walk in the park after breakfast. Want to come?” “Yeah.” He actually did want to. Normally, little kids freaked him out. He could deal with men and guns. But babies were so—needy. He was glad Erin would be there as a buffer. Erin removed the food tray and came back with a washcloth. She cleaned up Toby’s face and tiny reaching hands. “He’s taken with you,” she said. “Can’t keep his eyes off you.” “I know. It’s creepy, but kind of cool.” Erin unbuckled Toby and lifted him. “I have to go change him.” Hotch followed her. She shot a surprised glance over her shoulder but didn’t comment. When they got to a bedroom with a crib in it, she laid him out on the bed, and began undressing him. “Let me,” Hotch said a little too loudly. “You shouldn’t see that.” He knew it sounded ridiculous as soon as it came out of his mouth. Of course she’d seen naked Toby. She was his mother. She didn’t argue though. She stood back and let him pick up where she’d left off. She handed him the diaper, showed him how to put it on after teaching him how to clean Toby. Dressing Toby was harder because he kept kicking his legs, but Hotch had to admit he liked the little happy sounds Toby made. He found himself making them back. That set Toby off into a fit of giggles.

He lifted Toby into his arms. Toby didn’t seem too sure about that at first, but after patting Hotch’s cheeks a few times, the tike placed an opened mouth soggy kiss on Hotch’s nose. Erin laughed, handing him a tissue. “I’d say you’re in,” she remarked. “C’mon. His stroller’s downstairs by the back door. There’s a park down the street with a swing he really likes.” “He can swing? Isn’t that bad for his neck or something?” “Only the first couple of months he’s alive. His neck is plenty strong for a gentle swing.” He held the door for them. Erin rolled the stroller out the back and waited for him to join them. They got to the park two blocks away before either of them spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked. “You know how well it went in person. Do you really think a message sent through a bunch of secret military go-betweens would have made it any easier?” “I should’ve known.” “Hotch, I barely knew before I gathered up the courage only to find out you’d already been deployed. Maybe I should’ve told you immediately, but it was a surprise I hadn’t been prepared for.” “Did you—” He interrupted himself trying to find a way to ask delicately the questions her father had put into his mind. “Your dad said some things the other night. About you and the guys on the team. Did you know Toby was mine before he was born?”

Her pride stung. She wanted to smack him for the suggestion that she was basically a naval whore. She supposed, based on what she heard her father say, that he had every reason to wonder. Maybe he even thought Troy was naïve, and she’d cheated on him. She didn’t know, but this was no way to continue a speaking relationship with Toby’s dad. “My complete sexual history? Two Skins when I was eighteen. I thought it was funny to rebel against my dad like that. None of the other guys would come near me. The two I picked were losers who didn’t stay on the team.” “Then Nebraska?” “No. Then I went to college. I dated a few guys, but it never got serious enough to matter. I met Troy when I did some administrative work at Gooding Naval Base over a summer. I didn’t know he was Dad’s. Apparently, I have sonar for SEALs,” she joked. “It was another summer

before we started dating. He told me who his CO was and I suggested we keep my last name out of any discussion in case things didn’t work out. Or in case they did.” “That’s why he never told me,” he said as though agreeing with the decision. “He respected you.” “I respected him,” Hotch confessed. “After he died, I wasn’t interested in meeting someone else. Losing him—” She broke off, unable to talk around the lump in her throat. “He was a great guy,” she finished lamely. “No one like him,” he agreed. The path turned and they walked silently beneath the trees. “You were my last,” she said finally. “That night at the funeral, I didn’t set out to have sex.” “Neither did I.” “You were just there, and you were part of him, and I just needed him so badly.” Six months ago, saying that aloud would have made the tears fall. Now the words touched her with loss and a sense of fondness. Hotch stopped the stroller and turned her into his arms. He pulled her close, and she didn’t resist the comfort he offered. Her hair stirred as he dropped a kiss on top of her head. “I needed a piece of him too.” She tilted her chin up to look at him. “Should I have been jealous of you?” she teased lightly. “Naw,” he smiled slightly. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I was jealous of him. He talked about you all the time. I thought he was laying it on a little thick, but he didn’t exaggerate. You’re as beautiful as he told me you were. I suspect you’re just as amazing a person, too.” She squinted up at him. “Is this—admiration? Is this budding friendship? I’m not sure I know what we should do with this.” His expression turned a little embarrassed. “We keep pushing the stroller. My boy wants to swing, woman. Stop delaying the inevitable.” She let him go, laughing, and they continued walking until they got to the playground area. She unbuckled Toby and held him up for Hotch. “Go play. Get to know your son. I’ll be over there,” she said, nodding at a nearby bench. “Are you sure?” he asked.

She almost laughed again at his uncertainty. “I’m sure. You two should bond.” “What if I break him?” “Babies are surprisingly sturdy. You’ll do fine. Just remember he likes to scoot around, and he needs to be strapped into the swing chair.” She took the stroller to the bench with her and sat down. She clapped a hand over her mouth as she looked back to see Hotch standing where she’d left him, Toby held aloft, feet kicking in the air. Toby squealed gleefully and Hotch looked around as though he thought he might be arrested for the outcry he’d caused. “I’m doing this wrong!” he called to her. “Hug him,” she shouted back. Hotch tucked him against his chest. Immediately the tension in father and son melted as shoulders relaxed and arms entwined. Hotch smiled easily, and Erin breathed again. There was hope.

Chapter Four

“Last one,” Hotch called to Erin when she pleaded for them to go. Hotch settled Toby on his lap, hugged him tight, and went down the hip hugging plastic mini-slide. Toby laughed. Only four days ago, he’d walked to the park with him and Erin for the first time. Now it felt like Toby had been in his arms forever. After the first day, Hotch hadn’t been able to put him back in the stroller. He carried Toby or put him up on his shoulders. There’d been one short walk back where Hotch had held his little hands and waddled behind Toby as Toby tested his walking legs. And every time he had to give Toby back to Erin and leave, Hotch felt a desperation behind his sternum that only holding Toby again satisfied. Hotch hefted the giggling boy into his arms with a dramatic sweep. Propped on Hotch’s hip, Toby pointed at Erin. “Mama!” “Mama’s waiting. Let’s go get her,” Hotch whispered in Toby’s ear. “I know I want to go get her. That’ll be our secret. Don’t tell her.” “Don’t tell her, what?” Erin said, smiling easily. He smiled back. It was impossible not to when she looked at him like that. Her green eyes shone with tenderness as she looked between Hotch and Toby. She tilted her head to the side slightly. He’d bet she didn’t know she did that when she waited for Hotch to say something about their son. “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret between me and my son.” Something like surprise flitted through her expression, but her smile widened. “What?” he asked. “Nothing.”

“I don’t think so,” he countered. “What was that look you just had?” “I had a look?” “Yep.” Erin wheeled the cart toward the walking path. “You called him your son.” Hotch thought about it for a moment. “I did.” “It’s nice,” she commented softly. Hotch kissed Toby’s pudgy cheek, then blew a flub on it. Toby erupted into laughter. “He’s the best son on the planet.” “I can’t argue that.” They passed under an awning of trees. The sighing leaves swished above them, dappling the light and giving Hotch the sense that they were alone in the world, and it was perfect. “Hotch?” Erin stopped walking. When she looked up at him, he could see she was struggling with something. “Thank you for sticking around over your leave.” “I don’t have anywhere to go but here. Besides, there’s this kid I’m kind of in love with.” Hotch looked at her intently. “Thank you for letting me meet him.” She nodded. They began walking again. “I wasn’t sure how it would go over with you. It worried me, because I thought you’d be angry and blame me.” “Why? I was there too. I was just as responsible for remembering protection.” He looked at the wide blue-green gaze of his son, at the tiny tentative smile as Toby put his palm over Hotch’s mouth and patted it as Hotch spoke, making his words come out funny. Hotch blew a raspberry into his palm then scrubbed the tiny fingers over his jaw where whiskers already roughened the skin. “Because that’s not the common response to surprise parenthood. It wasn’t mine.” “Oh, really?” he teased, drawing out the last word. “So you blamed me?” She laughed. “For a couple of days. Then I decided that wouldn’t get me anywhere.” He hadn’t kissed her since that night behind the bar. It had been a fight to keep from doing it every time he saw her. It didn’t seem appropriate while they pretended to be a family at the park, and he drove home every afternoon. He wanted to stay, help Erin at mealtimes, and wake up with Toby in the middle of the night. Leaving them behind felt like he ripped off an arm and left it, every day. “Move in with me,” he blurted without thinking.

Erin’s stride faltered, but she kept going. “I don’t know if I want to move to Gooding.” “Aren’t you already here?” “Visiting. I came back to town to see you.” She shrugged. “I figured I’d stay for a couple of weeks and leave when you were deployed again.” Hotch caught her upper arm as raw fear seized him. “Don’t leave. Don’t take my son away, please.” “I—don’t live here,” she said apologetically. “You could live here. You could move in with me on base.” “What? That’s insane. Why the hell would I want to live on base?” she snapped. “Did you miss the warm hello my father gave me?” “But your mom lives here, right?” “For now. She’s renting the place we’re staying in. I think she’s hoping Dad will come to his senses and beg forgiveness.” “I have a home on base. It’s empty when I’m on deployment. It’s safe. The community is solid and the security is unparalleled. And when I’m home, I can be a dad to Toby,” Hotch reasoned in a rush. “You’re asking a lot of me. I don’t want a military life. It’s been nothing but a kick in my ass for as long as I can remember. I don’t want that for Toby either.” “Do you want me in his life?” Hotch asked carefully. “Is that a threat?” “No, I mean, I’m military. You can’t get more die-hard bleed red-white-and-blue than a SEAL. That’s who I am. I want to be in his life, but do you want me there?” “Of course I do,” she said on a long sigh. “What about you?” Hotch stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Her gaze met his warily. “And by that you mean?” He bent down, claiming her lips in a gentle but thorough kiss. Toby slobbered on Hotch’s cheek in his own version of a kiss that left them both laughing. Hotch ruffled his hair, and turned his attention back to Erin. “I want you close. We have something,” he said. “Chemistry and a kid. That’s what we have. It’s not enough to base a relationship on.”

“Then don’t call it one. Call it being my roommate and house sitter. The rent is free and so are all the utilities. I’ll portion off a percentage of my paycheck we agree upon for child support. If you decide to get a job, the base has daycare for military families.” “I’m not military. I’m not even your girlfriend.” “Then marry me.” “What?” she exclaimed. “Marry me. You’ll be family. You’ll both have benefits. I’ll know I have someone to come home to. Give us a chance,” he suggested. “Marriage isn’t a game, Hotch. My parents had to work at theirs, and it still fell apart. I’m a single mom who irresponsibly got pregnant by another guy at her boyfriend’s funeral, and whose father would rather disown her than look at her again.” She looked away. “I’m a mess. I’m not somebody’s pretend wife.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “If it’ll make you feel any better, I promise to sleep with you every night and enjoy it.” She elbowed him in the ribs, but she was laughing, and that’s what he wanted to see. Though marriage and moving in hadn’t been on his agenda, it didn’t sound like such a bad idea. He liked her. A lot. He’d thought Erin the girl was sexy before, but Erin the mom was smokin’. The fact that she’d had his kid made him want to see her belly filled with another child. Not that he’d push the issue. He just really liked knowing that her body had created another person with their essences. God, that was sexy. “I have something for you,” she said. “Will it require a condom?” “Gutter much?” “Can’t help it. I’m walking through the park with my son on my hip playing patty cake on my shoulder and charming the joggers, while my hot almost-wife-mother-of-my-child is swinging her lovely hips, next to me.” Erin arched an eyebrow. The effect was ruined by her blush and the subtle lift of her smile. “I’m serious.” “Okay. What do you have for me?” “A copy of Troy’s journal. It was in the box. I’ve read it, and there’s a lot in there I think he’d want you to know.”

“He left that to you,” Hotch said seriously. The familiar swell of guilt threatened to choke off his good mood. “He loved you. Most of his journal is about how important you were to him, and how much he looked up to you.” “He had to. I was three inches taller than him.” “Hotch.” Apparently, she wasn’t going to let him get away with playing it off. “I don’t want it.” “Why not?” He shook his head. “I just don’t.” She didn’t press the issue. He was glad. There would never been enough time to forgive himself for that accident. Nebraska would still be alive if it hadn’t been for Hotch. For the millionth time, he wondered why he hadn’t ushered Nebraska out of the lock first. Why that time? Why did the outer door malfunction that day? That moment? That man? Nebraska’s torn body hanging on by stretched flesh, his intestines and blood spilling into the royal blue ocean. Hotch could still feel the submarine beneath his feet as he’d tried to help, the underwater cry from his best friend when pain took over. It should have been Hotch. He always went last, except that last time. It was his fault Nebraska was dead. If Erin knew that, she’d never want to see him again. Hotch hugged Toby close. He’d have hugged Erin, too, if he thought she’d let him without asking questions. He couldn’t lose them. He’d never had a family after his parents died, and he was sent to foster care. The prospect of losing them now terrified him. It would be the cruelest joke fate had to offer him. Erin’s hand rubbed his lower back. “Hey, what just happened?” “I don’t want to lose you, Erin.” “You mean Toby.” “Either of you. You’re all the family I have, and you’re perfect. Stay with me. I’ll be able to help you with Toby and get to know him in the time I have on leave. If you want to stay when I’m gone, my house is yours. If you don’t, I’ll help you get wherever you’re trying to go.” “So when my dad told you to stay away from me, this was your translation?” “Your dad is my CO, and I respect him, but there’s no regulation that can dictate who my family is.”

“Do you have room for us?” He couldn’t have hidden his smile if he tried. “Yes. I live in a two bedroom house.” “Toby and I can room together.” “Room with me. Bunk with me. Marry me,” he urged. They’d stopped in front of her mother’s tiny rental home. She searched his gaze for several long moments. She reached for Toby, and the baby held out his arms to her. Once he was settled, he fisted her hair happily. Erin tugged his tiny shirt down over his round belly. “I’ll come stay with you,” she agreed slowly. “I’ll sleep in your room with you. I think we’d both enjoy more of that. Marriage? I’m not ready and when I am, I need it to be real, and that means no military men.” Hotch whooped and hugged his family. “At least think about marriage and give me an answer before I’m recalled. You might need the coverage and income. I want to be there for you however I can.” “A marriage of convenience?” “You don’t think you could learn to love me?” he teased. “I come with baggage.” “We all have baggage.” His smile faded. “I’ve made my share of mistakes. Toby isn’t one of them and neither is having you move in with me. That part feels right.” “I need a day to pack and prepare Mom.” “Tomorrow morning I’ll pick you up, load the car, and we’ll go to my place. Then we’ll walk to the base playground. I need to fill out the necessary access paperwork for you too.” He’d also be locating any and all documentation for a quickie wedding if she changed her mind. They didn’t have much time left before he had to report for duty. He wasn’t going to waste it, and if she was comfortable sharing his bed like she said she was, he had more opportunities to make her reconsider her answer. “I have a condition,” she said as he walked her to the kitchen door with the stroller. “Anything.” “Read Troy’s journal.” Her eyes plead with him. That familiar bile rose in his throat. He resisted the urge to frown at her request. It was a journal. How bad could it be if it meant having the two of them with him under the same roof every night?

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll read the journal. You and Toby move in with me until I’m recalled, at which point you’ll decide if you’re going to stay as a house sitter, or my wife.” Her nose wrinkled, but she held out her hand. “Deal.” He took it and pulled her to him. “Deal,” he murmured as his mouth covered hers. **** Erin picked up her tea mug and sat down on Hotch’s overstuffed brown couch. His furniture was straight out of bachelor pad living. She sighed wearily as she leaned back, listening to the sounds of Hotch putting his son to bed in his brand new bedroom. Her mom hadn’t taken the news so well. Erin had reasoned with her that living on base nearby was better than if she’d moved out of State next week. There’d been grumbling. There’d been a complete lack of help in getting the laundry done and Erin’s things packed away. It had been the same when Erin had gone off to college. Her mother seemed to think that by ignoring the problem, it would somehow go away. Or maybe it was that by not contributing, she felt she wasn’t condoning it. Or maybe it was hurt because she’d made Erin the same offer, but Erin was moving in with Hotch instead. She also knew her mother well enough to sense that she wouldn’t come between Erin and Hotch in trying to make a family. Hotch came back to the living room. He took her mug and set it aside, then leaned over the couch to buss her lips. He sank down on the seat beside her without breaking contact with her mouth. Settling near her, he then kissed her in earnest. She broke away. “He’s not asleep yet. He could cry at any moment.” Hotch nuzzled her neck. “He’s out. I swear.” He cupped her jaw and turned her face back to his. “If you’re sure.” Erin dragged him down, shifting under him as she laid back. His lips brushed hers, playfully rubbing the side of his nose against hers. “We don’t have to have sex,” he murmured. “There’s no pressure.” “Hotch. I want to have sex. Often.” “Thank God!” he growled. Their mouths met in a fury of parted lips and heated breath. Erin reached around his shoulders and grabbed fistfuls of shirt, trying to wrench it up his body and over his head.

He wormed out of it as she pulled, then grabbing her hips, he scooted backward off the couch. “Where’re you going?” she asked propping herself up on her elbows. “Nowhere.” He pushed up her top and nuzzled her belly. Erin inhaled sharply, watching him unbuckle and loosen her jeans. He tugged at them hard enough that she laughed and dug her fingers into the couch. “Lift your hips.” She did as he asked and he stripped her jeans off her legs. She mentally cheered herself for shaving and changing into some pretty underwear that morning. She’d hoped this would happen, but she hadn’t been sure how he’d play it. Fortunately for her, Hotch was all man, complete with a deep-seated craving for sex. Hotch kissed her belly button, pulling her decorative piercing into his mouth for a gentle tug while his tongue teased the tiny “o” it adorned. Erin shivered. She sifted her fingers through his hair. Her pussy pulled deep, a slow ache beginning to build and burn between her legs. He moved lower, nudging her legs farther open. His tongue tracked the crease between her thigh and her panty line. Moisture seeped from her. They hadn’t done anything like this before. Their two previous encounters had been rough and urgent. She didn’t know what to make of this leisurely sampling. When he covered her cunt with his open mouth and breathed hot air onto her through the satin, Erin gave up trying to categorize it. She moaned, her head falling back as she closed her eyes, wanting to absorb every detail of his seduction. She heard a soft snick, followed by the touch of thin cold metal at her hip. She caught her bottom lip beneath her teeth when he sawed through her panties at first one side, then the other. Hotch peeled back the material. “There we go,” he murmured appreciatively. Every nerve waited for his first touch. His lips brushed her pussy, kissing her. He suckled one side into his mouth, his tongue flickering against her heated flesh. He repeated the kiss to the other side and then dipped his tongue at the very top where her labia joined. Erin squirmed. Her fingers tightened in his hair.

“Not yet, baby. I’m still getting to know you,” he whispered. His finger touched her lower, swiping upward. “So wet.” She cracked her eyelids to see him bring the tip of his finger to his mouth, run the moisture over his full bottom lip, and then lick it off. Erin whimpered. She wanted to kick herself for the pathetic sound, but it seemed to be exactly what he’d been hoping for. He smiled wickedly, then all at once, Hotch thumbed open her folds as far as he could and ate at her like a starving man. Her cry went unchecked as her thighs trembled and her hips rocked up, offering her body to him, however he wanted to take it. His head moved under her hands and half the eroticism was in watching that silky warm texture moving where she wanted him most. His whiskers prickled her needy pussy, the promise of pain and the guarantee of pleasure commingled on her wet flesh. His tongue teased her clit. He slipped two digits high and hard inside her. Erin barely remembered to turn her face into the couch cushions as she screamed, hips thrusting up. He didn’t stop there. Hotch calmly continued to lick and suckle, even after she came. Erin tossed her head. She’d thought in coming, it would be over. They’d go to his room—their room—and fuck. But Hotch seemed to enjoy himself where he was, invested in tonguing every fold, and effectively reawakening her cunt. “Hotch.” She meant to tell him to stop, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Every lash of his tongue on her clit shocked pleasure through the tiny nub and thrilled a place deep in her pelvis. His lips clamped on her bud as his fingers jammed deep, rubbing a place inside her pussy that made her skin flame and her ears ring. Sense left her as her body came alive beneath him, and she held on, riding the tides of pleasure that swept over her. Every muscle in her body tightened. Erin sobbed wantonly into another explosive orgasm. “I’ll take care of it,” Hotch said, climbing to his feet. “Take care of what?” Erin’s ears stopped ringing, and she became aware of Toby crying in the next room. She sat up with a start. “It’s okay. I’ve got it covered. I’ll meet you in bed in a few minutes.” His boyish grin stayed with her as she gathered their clothes and darted down the hall to the master bedroom. The water in the bathroom sink turned off. Hotch was drying his hands and face as she scurried passed. He gave her a gentle swat to the ass and ducked into Toby’s room.

Erin cleaned herself up and removed the rest of her clothing. She could hear Hotch over the baby monitor. The sound of his off-tune baritone singing a lullaby made her smile. She reached across the bed and turned it up to listen. With a sigh of contentment, Erin went back to the bathroom to search for condoms and brought them back to the room. She curled up beside the monitor and decided to close her eyes for a moment until he came back. Toby cooed. Hotch murmured back, telling Toby how smart his comments were, how insightful. Toby babbled some more, and Hotch agreed that it was indeed past his bedtime, and he promised to put Toby down right away. Erin turned the volume down again, listening to the rumble and pitch of their voices. She inhaled deeply, evenly until everything faded away.

Hotch took off his pants and shorts and climbed into bed beside Erin. It had taken longer than he expected to put Toby back to sleep. Apparently, Toby hadn’t been the only one exhausted. Erin lay on her side facing away from him. She was naked, and uncovered. Hotch filled his eyes with her, enjoying every curve and dip of her body. His gaze flicked over her shoulder and he saw the box of condoms he’d purchased the day before, on the lamp table nearest her. His grin widened. Who was he to disappoint, he mused. He stroked over her shoulder, down her relaxed arm to where it bent away from her and her waist tucked neatly. He followed the line to the rise of her hip, stopped there, and dropped kisses on her shoulder and neck. Erin sighed in her sleep and rolled back against him, her body at an open angle for his hungry gaze. He didn’t think there’d been created a more perfect woman than this one. He didn’t deserve her, but for some reason, she’d been sent to him on loan for the next week. He intended to make use of every moment he had with her. Fortunately, she hadn’t been shy about wanting to have sex with him too. Thank God for sexual freedom. Still, he felt funny about touching her in her sleep. Only thing to fix that was to touch her into wakefulness. Hotch cupped her pussy, the strip of crinkling hairs tickled his palm as he moved up her body. His gaze had already locked on to her full, proud breasts, but getting there was half the pleasure and he didn’t want to rush it.

Her belly hollowed as he teased her piercing. Her breathing changed and her muscles had a barely perceptible tension that they hadn’t moments before. She was awake, now, although she kept her eyes closed. From palm to fingertips, he drew a path between her breasts, being sure to apply the edge of his nails. Erin’s nipples drew tight. His mouth watered, but he circled her breasts in smaller and smaller passes until he came to the peak. Erin stopped pretending. She snaked an arm around his neck and dragged him down. She arched her neck, reaching for him, her mouth easily finding his. Hotch thumbed the tip in reward, and she trembled against him. Erin rolled onto her back. He needed more. Needed to taste her, feel her wordless pleas on his tongue. He parted her lips and delved inside. She responded, and when her hands clutched his ass, he knew taking it slow had just become a lot more complicated. Trailing kisses from her mouth to her cheek, jaw, neck, he traveled downward to his prize. He teased himself with her nipple, rubbing his lips with it back and forth until he couldn’t resist the temptation to taste her. He captured it, holding it between his teeth as he suckled. Hotch’s fingers teased her pussy lips open. He slipped in a finger and began a casual figure eight around her already sensitive clit. “Hotch, I’m going to kill you slowly if you don’t stop playing with me and start fucking me,” she said on a groan. “That’s a first,” he murmured, coming off her nipple. “At the risk of sounding like a guy, would you just get on and ride me? I don’t think I can stand any more foreplay.” Hotch laughed but he grabbed the condoms and fitted one on. He positioned himself between her legs, and in one swift move, penetrated her. Her sudden involuntary cry of pleasure echoed his. Already her cunt clenched around him with a fine shiver. Erin bit her bottom lip, and when her eyes opened again, they were hazy green. They’d fucked before, but it had been in a rush or in the dark both times. This time he wanted to savor the moment, every sigh she gave, every second she lost her cool veneer to pleasure made tiny changes of her facial expressions. He’d been reading Nebraska’s journal, just as she’d asked him too. He wondered if she knew how much information about her there’d been, between the lines. Nebraska had said she

closed her eyes when she made love. Nebraska had a romantic idea about how Erin gave everything she had, as though it were the reason she didn’t open them during sex. Hotch had different ideas. It may have been arrogant to assume he knew her better than Nebraska, but Hotch didn’t see what Nebraska saw. He saw Erin hiding. Not only did he want sex with him to be different for her than it was with Nebraska, but selfishly Hotch wanted her to remember his face as he fucked her. It was possessive and primitive, but that was exactly how she made him feel. “Open your eyes, Erin.” She did, but she seemed confused. He’d stopped moving, but as her eyes opened, he began to thrust. Her eyes slid shut again. “Keep them open. Nebraska’s journal said you close your eyes during sex. I’m not Nebraska. I want to make sure you remember that.” Her brow knit together. “I know you’re not him.” He pulled out and thrust in, hard. She made a soft noise. “Is that a problem?” “No,” she breathed. He bent down, talking huskily into her ear. “But you miss him. Do you miss the way he fucked you, Erin?” He winced when he said it. The words sounded mean. He felt mean. This was Nebraska’s girl. His intended wife. Erin belonged to a dead man, and Hotch was screwing her anyway because he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her so bad his chest hurt. The more he learned about her, the more he knew she was the one who could devastate him. He hated that weakness and hated that she would always belong to another man. A better man. A man Hotch could never be. “Don’t,” she whispered back. She touched his cheek, seeming to know his doubt and pain. He thrust deep again. “Feel me, Erin.” His voice cracked. “I’m not Nebraska. I never will be, but when we’re like this, don’t shut me out. Keep your eyes open.” Don’t imagine Nebraska is still alive and fucking you, he finished silently.

Chapter Five

Erin rolled away from Hotch when they’d finished. What they’d done couldn’t really be called lovemaking since it had been more about marking territory than anything else. He felt a little sick about it, but he’d made sure she’d come before he let himself go. From her breathing and the tension in her body, he could tell she wasn’t sleeping. “Sex isn’t a weapon,” she said almost too quietly. “I don’t want to share you with a memory,” he answered. She rolled to face him. “That’s a little futile, don’t you think? You can’t tell me there are women you’ve slept with that you never think about again. Especially if they meant a lot to you.” He controlled his expression. “I don’t think about them when I’m with you. I think about you.” “Yet you suppose I’m weaker somehow? Like I’m incapable of seeing you, feeling you inside my body, and knowing who’s in there? That’s the most patronizing, shitty thing I’ve ever heard.” “You were going to marry him. I’m always going to be that other guy you slept with and got pregnant by.” “Is this guilt?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as her gaze darted over his face in the semidarkness. “It’s fact.” “Your facts are fucked up, Hotch.” He rolled to his side, not wanting to talk anymore. “Good night, Erin.” “Are you kidding me? You start the subject and you get to close it when you’re finished? I don’t think so. Roll over and talk to me.”

“It’s late.” She pushed his shoulder. “Really? This is your idea of spending the week getting to know each other and see where things go?” “I get tired after sex. Now you know something about me.” Erin made a sound of frustration. She planted her feet on his back and shoved him to the floor. “Here’s something about me. If you aren’t going to fix what you broke, get the hell out of my bed.” “This is my bed,” he argued from the carpet. “Not when the members of the house have a two thirds vote, buddy.” Hotch snatched a pillow and the comforter off the bed and hit the living room. He tried to curl up on the couch but his larger frame made it a challenge. Giving up, he brought his laptop over, turned on the living room lamp, and kept reading the journal. If anyone knew how to get Erin out of a funk, it had to be Nebraska. He had to have messed up with her once or twice. He wasn’t perfect. About an hour and a half later, he decided Nebraska had been perfect. He’d finished the journal and not once had Nebraska mentioned a disagreement with her, or needing to curry favor. Hotch closed the laptop and put it aside. He dropped his head in his hands. This sucked. He could almost feel the hostility radiating down the hall toward him. Toby fussed. Hotch wrapped the comforter around himself and walked to Toby’s room. He soothed the sleeping boy until he quit whimpering, then tucked the blanket around Toby’s waist, keeping it away from his nose and mouth for safety. Hotch watched him for a long time, finding peace in the way Toby slept on, trusting that all would be taken care of, that all the bad dreams could be wiped away with a hushing sound and a light back rub. “If only it were that easy,” he whispered, thinking of the rift forming between him and Erin. “I’m sorry I’m not Nebraska. He’d have been a great father. You got the guy who has to figure it all out and hope he doesn’t screw up your life.” Hotch dropped a kiss on Toby’s temple. Toby sighed, jammed a fist in his mouth and suckled noisily in his sleep. Hotch chuckled. Toby and Erin were worth the effort, her reminded himself. He’d try to talk to her tomorrow. According to Nebraska, she responded to honest conversation. Hotch had grown up keeping his feelings inside. Maybe it was time to change. For Erin. For Toby. It was possibly the

most difficult and dangerous mission he’d been on yet. God, he just hoped he made it out the other side without losing her. **** Something woke him the next morning. The vague aural memory of a chime had him searching his brain for an answer, when it chimed again. The door. Hotch got up and stumbled to the door. He unlocked it and swung it open. Commander Hawking stormed passed him, his gaze raking over Hotch’s home as though he was intensely displeased. When his eyes settled on Hotch again, a look of rage entered his expression. Belatedly, Hotch remembered being kicked out of bed for the couch. He hadn’t taken any clothes with him, and he still stood as naked as the day he was born. Well, fuck decorum. If the CO was going to barge into his home during off-duty, he got what he should expect. “Dad?” Erin muttered sleepily behind him. Oh, yeah, there was the fact that her father wouldn’t miss his nakedness while his daughter strolled into the room. Hotch held his ground, though. It wouldn’t do to show the Commander any fear. He’d use it. “I told you to stay away from my daughter,” Hawking snarled. “Sir, Toby’s my son. You must’ve noticed the resemblance before you asked me to stay away.” “Dad’s never met Toby,” Erin stated calmly. Hotch lifted his brows in surprise. “Why not?” “He’s embarrassed by me and my son is an extension of that, isn’t that right, Dad?” “You getting pregnant by a random man doesn’t make him my grandson,” Hawking snapped. “He’s a Navy SEAL. Just like his old man and his grandpa.” Erin came into view and saluted her father with a smirk. “Are you trying to antagonize him?” Hotch asked sharply. “Why not? He antagonizes me all the time. Or he used to, back when he let me visit. Back before he and Mom split.” “We split because of you.” Erin’s face fell. “What?”

“Your mother put up with all your little indiscretions. But they were my men. Not hers. Not yours. You deliberately attempted to undermine my authority.” Hotch’s head swam. He had so many questions. But suddenly the picture of blame Hawking bestowed on his daughter made it a little less foggy. For a moment, Hotch wanted to wash his hands of the whole family. But there was Toby. Toby deserved more than a dysfunctional family and an absent father. “You two try not to tear each other apart. I’m going to go put some clothes on,” Hotch told them. “The coffee maker is already set to make, just hit the timer button and set it off early. I think we could all use the caffeine this morning.” Hotch tried to shake the cobwebs from his brain as he walked to the master bedroom. Nebraska had only briefly mentioned the animosity between Erin and her father. Nothing specific, but from what Hotch had seen, it was brewing on a much more sophisticated timer than his coffee maker. He pulled on his underwear and a pair of loose sweats. Checking on Toby, Hotch hit on an idea. He woke Toby, changed him, and cuddled his sleepy warm body against his chest as he made his way back to the kitchen and living room area. Hawking and Erin stood in stony silence, steaming mugs in their hands that neither of them lifted. Hotch headed for Hawking, took the mug from the commander, and pushed Toby into his grandfather’s arms. Hawking looked down at the boy-bundle, confusion and vague horror on his face. “Commander Hawking, meet Toby. Your grandson,” Hotch said. Erin folded her arms across her chest. She seemed to be holding back a string of cuss words if her expression was any indication. Hotch put his arm around her. He figured she wouldn’t shrug him off with her dad watching. She’d want them to appear as though they were a solid front, not that Hawking was right about their relationship being just a quickie behind the bar. His bet paid off. She didn’t flinch. They stood side by side near the commander. “For better or worse, we’re family. Don’t you think it’s about time we started behaving like one?” Hotch said. “For better or worse?” Hawking looked up sharply. “Yeah, Dad, Hotch proposed to me.”

Hotch eyed her warily. She’d also turned him down, but didn’t tell her dad that. “I told you to stay away. Even with a kid, you were given an order,” Hawking snapped. “You have no authority over my personal life when it doesn’t affect the mission.” “You’re fucking my daughter. You don’t think that affects your standing on my team?” Hawking spat. “Or has my daughter’s insubordination worn off on you?” Erin quietly seethed beside Hotch. Hotch stepped dropped his arm and stepped protectively in front of her. “Sir, a child has the privilege of not being subject to subordination. She has the privilege of being heard, something you pride yourself on among your team. Doesn’t she deserve at least that much respect?”

“Respect?” her dad shouted. Toby wailed. Hotch rescued Toby and absently snuggled him as he rubbed his son’s back. “Sir, you’re upsetting my son. Take it down a notch or leave.” She looked at Hotch, as though seeing him for the first time. He was everything Nebraska had said he was. He was brave, strong, confident, sure. He was also what Nebraska had failed to mention in his notes: He had the capacity to love deeper than he seemed to acknowledge. That’s what had frustrated her so much the night before. In that light, it had driven her nuts. But in light of seeing him with Toby as the protective father, standing by her side and fighting her fight? Hotch amazed her. “Are you telling your Commanding Officer to stand down?” Her father bellowed. Erin’s pulse leaped. She hated it when her dad yelled, but yelling by her baby and yelling at Hotch, it felt like the fledgling walls of her little family would crumble at any moment. Dad had been this angry with her the day she left home. “Respectfully, I am, sir,” Hotch answered calmly. “He won’t listen,” Erin interrupted. “He never has where I’m concerned.” “You slept with my team,” her father thundered. Erin put a shaking hand on Hotch’s arm as she stepped around him to face off with her father. Hotch stayed alert, apparently ready to defend her if she needed it. Erin stood strong, but her father was a battleaxe of a commanding officer who fathered the way he led. Over the years, she’d seen the bravest men back down in the face of his fury.

It was time for a little honesty, she decided. “You’re right, Dad. When I was eighteen, I wanted to piss you off. You never listened to me and mom. You don’t think I knew that you blamed her for not giving you a son? I knew. How could I not? You looked at Skins with the pride of a father, the way Hotch looks at Toby. But you never saw me that way.” Hotch shot her a sidelong glance, but she kept her attention on her father. She’d explain to Hotch later how great she thought he was. “You slept with my team,” her dad emphasized. “What kind of respect did you think that would garner, young lady?” “I was eighteen. That may be the reason you choose to keep me at a distance, but it doesn’t explain why you waited those eighteen years to form an opinion of me and then latched onto the first negative thing I offered up.” “You certainly offered up a lot. I heard them talk about you, Erin.” Her father’s voice rasped with emotion and his gaze flicked away. To a man like her father his pride and his authority were everything. She knew that she’d struck a blow all those years ago. It wasn’t until now, when she had a child of her own, that she thought she finally understood. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Dad,” Erin whispered. “Mom and I tried to hold it together when you were gone. But when you were home—Dad, you still weren’t here.” “I put a roof over your heads and made sure you have everything you needed to lead a good life,” he protested gruffly. “Except you, Dad. We didn’t have you.” She turned to Hotch. “You’re an amazing guy, Hotch. You really are, but you SEALs are married to your lives in the military. I watched my parents’ marriage fall apart because of the stress, and I experienced what it’s like to be a by-blow of an absent naval officer and a civilian. I want more for Toby.” “The Navy has good marriages too, Erin,” Hotch pointed out. “Your experience sucked. I can see how bad it hurt you, but we aren’t your parents.” “How blind are you? At least my parents started out in a loving marriage. You’re asking me to marry you when we don’t even have that much in common?” she asked in disbelief. “I do love you,” Hotch contradicted.

Erin sighed. She rubbed her forehead. “You might. You’ve fallen in love with your son and because he’s part of me, I can understand that you’d love me for bringing him into the world. In love the way two people need to be in order to have a lasting relationship with that child, isn’t the same thing.” “How can you believe it’s possible that I’m in love with my son so quickly, but I couldn’t possibly fall in love with you just as fast?” Hotch asked. Toby babbled softly, resting his head on Hotch’s shoulder while Toby played with his own wiggly fingers. “Adult love is different. If anyone knows that, my father does. Don’t you, Dad?” she said, drawing him back into the conversation. “Marriage isn’t the answer.” Her father’s words sounded clipped and final. “For once we agree,” she mused. “Don’t give up on us,” Hotch insisted. “There’s time. I’m being recalled. You and Toby have time to settle in here, take a breather while you figure things out and have everything you need taken care of. If not for me, for your mom who lives nearby and for your dad who’ll come home too.” It was a generous offer. Having her mother near, the base for work and daycare, and the home as a perk of Hotch’s career would definitely afford her time to clear her thoughts and make a plan. The house would be empty anyway, and living rent-free would give her time to figure out what she wanted to do. “I’ll stay,” she agreed. “I make no promises that there’ll be anything between us when you get back.” Hotch nodded his understanding, though he seemed a bit defeated. “I understand.” “Stay away from my men, Erin. All of them. When Hotch and I return, you move out. Move in with me or your mother, but don’t shack up with another man from my team.” Commander Hawking insisted. Erin frowned. These past two weeks had been monumental for firsts. However the prospect of standing up to him one more time, made her insides shudder with fear. Telling the commander to back down was scary. He might be a bloated jackass sometimes, but he was still her daddy. She was still his baby girl and no matter what she said, his approval meant everything to her.

Her mouth had gone cottony and her joints trembled. Some things required saying. He didn’t have any qualms about battering her with words, so why did telling him how she felt as an adult and a mother make her blood pressure soar? Nothing was ever easy with the commander. Nothing would ever be easy with him. “Daddy, I love you, and I will never be one of your men. Barking orders at the team will get you what you want every time. Barking them at your family gets you lonely. I’ll do whatever I need to for my son. Whatever I need to do for me. I wish you’d support my decisions and love me anyway, but your approval isn’t required. Please leave. Hotch and I have a lot to talk about and you’re not helping.” Toby began to fuss. His jaw tensed as he tried to grind his four teeth together and his eyes filled with tears. “Hotch, he’s hungry. Would you feed him some cereal? Do you remember how to make it?” she asked. Hotch nodded. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s find some of that yummy peach cereal your mom makes you.” Toby sobbed with a combination of relief and desperation. She knew his sounds well. So close to food, yet not able to eat it and finally understood enough to know it was coming. It put a smile on her face as she watched Toby and Hotch retreat to the kitchen. “You’re making a mistake,” her father said. “These guys are on most of the time. They don’t hang on to relationships and they come back marked.” “I know. My father is one of those guys,” she reminded him unnecessarily. “It’s different. An officer is removed from battle. They’re in the thick of it.” “I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have baggage. Besides, I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.” Her father took another step closer to her and lowered his voice. “Did he tell you how Nebraska died?” “No, nor should he. Isn’t that military confidential?” she asked. “You were engaged to him. Don’t you want to know?” “I wasn’t engaged. I was dating him,” she corrected. “Your mom said he had a ring.”

“He did. He hadn’t asked me yet. And before you go off about him being another one of your team members, that’s just coincidence. I met him when I worked in the administration building after I graduated.” “Of course you did.” His tone said he didn’t believe her. “He asked me out the second summer.” “So hooking up with Hotch was coincidence too?” her father asked. “It was Troy’s funeral. I wouldn’t have met Hotch otherwise.” “Nebraska’s funeral and his Brutus was there to see it and sweep his buddy’s girl straight into the sack and knock her up. How convenient for both of you.” “Get out,” she snarled. “A team leader should have protected Nebraska. Ask him how Nebraska died.” He turned and walked to the front door. At the last moment, hand on the knob, he looked back at her. “You know, my house will be empty while I’m away too. You have memories there. You’re just as welcome to stay in your childhood home as a stranger’s. I’ll give you the same deal you have going with Hotch. Free room and board. Hell, I’ll even chip in a tidy allowance. Think about it.” He left before she could throw something at him.

Chapter Six

Tomorrow Hotch had to return to duty. She’d debated asking him about Troy all week and hadn’t built up the nerve. She needed to, though. She couldn’t keep living in this altered state of reality where she pretended to have a family and a home, only to wonder if it was more of a lie than she already knew it to be. The wind off the Atlantic kicked up. Toby wriggled his bare toes into the wet white sand. His tiny fists wrapped around her fingers as the tide just touched his feet before retreating. He took a wobbly step with her help. A tendril of her dark hair whipped across her face and she turned into the wind to knock it back. Hotch came up behind her, wet, cold, dripping, and grabbed her hips to pull them against his groin. “Geez, Hotch. Just because I’m bent over doesn’t mean I’m begging for it.” He laughed. “I know, babe, but I can’t help myself. That tight ass looked too tempting to ignore.” “Did you have a good swim?” she asked. Hotch crouched beside Toby. “It was okay. The tide is a little bit rough, but I got my five miles in.” “Did you hear that, Toby? He’s all done for the morning. That means he can play!” she said in a high-pitched voice. Hotch tickled him and Toby laughed until he couldn’t hold on and plopped his bottom to the sand. The slight drop jarred him, and he tipped his head back to look up at her with huge watery eyes. His bottom lip began to tremble.

Hotch swept in, lifted him high, then brought him in for a tummy flub. Erin couldn’t help but laugh with them when Toby’s peals filled the air. In such a short time, Toby had fallen hard for his daddy. Her heart kicked a little faster. Erin had fallen for him too. Except for a few important things. Like the fact that he was a SEAL and that her father had left a nagging doubt in her mind about Hotch’s involvement in Troy’s death. He was leaving tomorrow. She either asked now, or never. Erin took a deep breath. Whatever it was, she knew it wouldn’t be pretty. Her father never would have suggested she ask if he didn’t know something that would bother her. “Hotch?” Hotch swung Toby to his hip. Toby squirmed to get down, so Hotch set him on the sand, then crouched near him. Erin sat down behind Toby, offering her body as support in case he fell backward. He wouldn’t. He’d been sitting too well for too long to fall over, but she did it anyway. “How did Troy die?” Hotch’s gaze shot to hers. “I can’t discuss mission details.” “Dad said I should ask you. He said you knew how he’d died and I needed to hear it from you.” “The day he was at the house yelling?” “Yeah,” she acknowledged.

God, he didn’t want to tell her. Guilt that had been pushed away temporarily came rushing to the surface. Damn the commander for setting him up! Yet, getting it out in the open would finally get it off his chest. After the weeks they’d spent together, first tentative walks in the park and catching time with each other, to moving her in and being with her every day, he hoped he’d earned a modicum of trust. He absolutely owed her honesty. Yet, he had more to lose than ever. Hotch glanced over. She was playing with Toby’s hair, dropping little kisses on his temples. She completely avoided his gaze. Erin seemed to be preparing herself for the worst, calmly sitting and waiting for him to tell her what she’d evidently been afraid to ask before now.

He owed her truth and honesty. She already had his love, even if she didn’t trust it. Would he lose the progress he’d made? What if she hated him for his part in Nebraska’s death and she not only moved out, but kept him from seeing Toby. His heart wrenched. In keeping with top-secret protocol, he decided to tell her what he had to without divulging military operations information. He could protect that easily enough. “We were on a drill,” he started, beginning the misdirection that the team had been instructed to use. He couldn’t tell her they’d been spying in enemy waters. He filled in the details slowly, watching her for a change of expression. She didn’t have one. His heart pounded heavily as he got to the part where the doors closed on Nebraska. Erin briefly closed her eyes. When she reopened them, the green depths looked distant, glassy, wet. She had the look of someone imagining the story as it unfolded. Hotch had to pause. He didn’t want to get graphic, but he knew she needed details. He also wasn’t sure he could say what had to be said. He hadn’t spoken about Nebraska’s death. Not to the commander, not to the base psychologist who’d insisted Hotch spend several afternoons in his office. It wasn’t any easier telling Erin. “I couldn’t get him out.” Hotch swallowed passed the lump in his throat. “The doors closed on him. I tried, Erin, I swear I tried. I grabbed his hands but it was too late.” “What happened?” she asked flatly. “It closed on him. The full weight of the steel door closed on him and didn’t open. He was dead almost instantly.” “Did he suffer?” The question hung in the air between them. “Briefly.” “He suffered,” she said, breaking it down. Briefly or not, she understood. “Yes. I’m sorry. It should have been me. As team leader, I should have been the last one to clear the lock. I’d always done it before. That day—was different.” Toby dropped onto his side, head resting on Erin’s knee as he made motorboat sounds and poked at the sand. His child’s play seemed surreal next to the information about Troy. He wondered if she thought so too. She watched him, absently brushing sand off his little arms. “It should be him sitting on the beach with you,” Hotch told her quietly.

She lifted her head and searched his eyes. “Why? You think you deserve to live less than he did? It was an accident. The nature of accidents is that they’re accidental.” Was she kidding? She didn’t appear to be. “He had more to live for. The promise of a wife, a future with you.” He motioned at Toby. “It should be his kid on the beach with you.” “But it isn’t, and one life isn’t more valuable than another. Isn’t that exactly the reason you’re in the Navy preserving the rights of Americans? Are you going to try to convince me that the druggy on the street corner is worth less than the brave men and women who fight for our freedoms?” “No, that’s not what I mean.” Erin’s eyes flashed angrily. “Then why do you think you deserve to live less than Troy?” “Why do you think he deserved his death?” Hotch countered. “I don’t. I’d never think death is a fair tradeoff to life. But I’ll remind you that you knew death was an option when you signed up, and no life if more important than the next. He died because he died. You lived for the same reason, and if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have Toby.” “I always left the lock last. Always.” “Not that time,” she emphasized. “Why aren’t you angry at me? I have nothing to offer you. No family, no happy go lucky outlook on life. Nebraska did. He had all those things and because I changed it up, he’s gone.” “He’d never have blamed you.” “That makes the betrayal worse.” She tilted her head to the side. Toby’s little body had gone limp and Hotch suspected the tike had fallen asleep. Erin looked into Hotch’s face urgently. “Do you think he’d blame you?” “No. Nebraska wasn’t like that.” “You’re right. He wasn’t. Are you trying to make me angry at you?” “I don’t know. Maybe,” Hotch admitted. He shrugged. His skin felt oddly tight around his shoulders and he wanted nothing more than to dive into the ocean and swim until his body gave out. That maybe by killing himself he could somehow give back the life he’d stolen from Nebraska. “I’m not going to be angry at you. I’m going to be angry at my father for him thinking Troy’s death would put a wedge between you and me. I’m going to be angry at you if you can’t

live the gift Troy gave you with gratitude. I’m going to be hurt that by wishing your life away, you’re essentially wishing my beautiful boy never came to be. I’m even going to be hurt that while you tell me you have feelings for me, you feel colored by guilt in accepting them.” “You loved Nebraska. Do you love me?” Hotch asked bluntly. “I don’t know. Right now, I want to smack you for being a self-indulgent jackass. Get over yourself and your pity party. Accept that for whatever reason, Troy gave his life up for you to have one, that he had a great life and maybe, just maybe, his death is a way for you to experience a little of the joy he brought others.” Hotch got up. Erin scared the shit out of him. He turned and jogged down the beach. Erin called after him, but he quickened to a run. He could’ve accepted scorn, disgust, hatred. He expected it. Acceptance? He didn’t know what to do with it. It made the ground feel like ice beneath his feet. She turned those bright green eyes on him full of understanding and harsh frankness, and he lost his footing. The ice became a sucking black hole in his mind and no matter how fast he ran, how loud he yelled into the wind, he couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t escape her. In a wild panic he ran into the surf and swam as far as he could along the shoreline.

Erin paced the living room. She paused to listen when Toby fussed in his sleep down the hall, but resumed once he’d settled. She glanced at her watch. Hotch had been gone for hours. Eleven o’clock crept closer. Erin ran a hand through her hair and looked at the phone, once again debating whether she should call the base and check on him. He might have signed in early, avoiding her completely until he came back—whenever the Navy decided to make that happen. A car pulled up outside. Her pulse jumped and she raced to the door, swinging it open. Hotch got out of a base cruiser, waved the security detail off, and headed toward her. She waited until he got inside to tear into him. Except once he got there, she clung to him. “I was so fucking worried,” she garbled into his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” “You have a son now. No matter how mad at me you get, you can’t just disappear on him.” “I promise,” he soothed, stroking her back. His arms tightened around her. She sighed. “Tomorrow you go back.”

“Early.” “I know.” She needed him. Her body still shook with fear she didn’t know she had. “Take me to bed, Hotch.” Hotch swept her legs out from under her and carried her to the bedroom. She kissed him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her lips. “I’m sorry. I won’t leave like that again.” A sob caught in her throat. Erin tucked her head under his chin and held on, as he carried her. He lowered her gently to the bed, as though she was fragile, and tonight she felt like she was. She was used to being strong, in charge. She was used to caring for her small son and knowing the answers to everything, even if she didn’t know at all. She was used to the art of pretending, managing her life like she was in control, but in his arms, she let the burden go. Hotch carried it for her and for the first time more than a year, Erin sighed with relief. He’d left her, worried her, argued with her, challenged her, but in the end she trusted him to be at her side when she or Toby actually needed him. He’s a SEAL, she reminded herself. He’d go. He could die. He could resent her when he came back and remember Troy all over again and wonder if she was just the girl Troy left behind, taking advantage of a cushy deal he’d provided for her. He could. But he wouldn’t. She didn’t question how she knew it, yet it fell in a collection of shared conversations, journal entries, the character of a Navy SEAL, and the character he’d flawlessly represented every moment they were together. “Don’t promise me you won’t leave,” she told him. “Promise me that when you leave, you’ll come back to me.” He studied her for several long seconds. “Then marry me.” She shook her head no. “Neither one of us is ready for that. There’s too much we have to work through.” Hotch brushed the hair back from her face. “I wish you’d say yes.” “Why?” “It makes sense.” “How romantic,” she teased. “What’s wrong with making sense?” “It doesn’t challenge you to wonder why that’s your answer.” “You’re talking in riddles. Must be a girl thing.”

“When you figure it out, I’ll be here to listen. Then you can ask me again,” she said softly. “Until then, big boy, there’s something else I’d rather be doing than talking.” Hotch huffed with exasperation. “You’re so confusing.” “I know. How about if I use simple words? Cock in pussy. Now.” He laughed. “That I understood.” “I was speaking male.” “I like it,” he murmured his approval against her neck.

Chapter Seven

Hotch reported for duty with the rest of the team. He was going on almost no sleep after spending the night making love to Erin. He couldn’t get enough of her. God, just when he thought he had, it was as though his hunger for her resurfaced. He shook his head as he put his shoes in his locker and pulled on his government-issued pair. Today would be about briefing for the training session, possible missions, any news the CO had for them about their immediate plans, corrections, etcetera. It was a pencil pushing and weight lifting day. Unless Uncle Sam had something else in mind. He joined the other guys on the team as their comfortable camaraderie filled the background noise in his thoughts. “Skins all the way, man. I told my girl that, and you should’ve heard the way she bitched at me,” one of the younger team members laughed. “She’ll figure it out. No one gets between the bros on the Skins team,” a sympathetic member said. “Speaking of Skins brotherhood, we’re up against the Dune Devils at Hell’s Dune,” another guy informed. “Darts. Man I suck at darts.” It filtered though and Hotch chimed in from time to time about slaughtering the competition both in darts and in the water. SEAL pride swelled. They collectively entered the Skins’ dedicated conference room where Commander Hawking waited. An hour later, the meeting concluded. Commander Hawking called Hotch to stay behind for a minute. Hotch prepared himself for another round with his CO. “Sir?” Hotch asked when they were finally alone.

“What are you plans?” “About?” “My daughter.” “With respect, Commander Hawking, I don’t let personal relationships bleed over into my professional life.” “Neither did I.” Commander Hawking sighed heavily and paced to the window. He looked through it a long while. Hotch began to wonder if he’d been dismissed indirectly, when Hawking turned. “It didn’t work out so well for me,” he confessed. “Sir?” Hawking approached. He looked like he’d aged twenty years overnight. “Erin was right yesterday. I kept my lives so separated that I wound up making my job my priority instead of my family.” Hotch didn’t know how to answer that, so he didn’t. “When you go to the front line, Lieutenant, who are you fighting for?” Hawking asked suddenly. “I don’t know, sir.” He’d never thought about it. Of course he fought for his country, but that was some intangible thing out there, a lofty ideal that didn’t have substance. Mostly he fought because he had to, needed to, beyond anything else, he felt the drive to make something more than what he had. “The SEALs become your family. I know they did for me. Even though we spar in competitions with the other teams, we’re still a big family of men who look to each other for belonging.” Hawking laughed humorlessly. “It’s taken me over thirty years to realize that I had all that at home.” “You’re decorated, sir. We’ve done a lot of good. You can’t regret it,” Hotch challenged carefully. Hawking leaned his hip against the conference table. “I thought they’d always be there. I thought that what I was doing was so important that they’d understand why I wasn’t there, and they’d wait for me.” He met Hotch’s gaze. “That’s a lie, son. You have to nurture what you have, or the enemy wins that personal battle before you realize they’ve struck.” “Shouldn’t this be something you share with Erin and Mrs. Hawking?”

“They won’t have me. I’ve lost them. You still have a chance. Don’t fuck up with your family the way I fucked up with mine. Do you want them?” “Yes, sir. I’ve asked her to marry me.” “Why?” Hotch knew he looked as confused as he felt. “She asked me the same question.” A twinkle of pride entered his CO’s eyes. “What did you tell her?” “I told her it made sense.” “She turned you down, didn’t she?” “Yes, sir,” Hotch admitted. “Good girl.” “Sir? What should I have said?” “She’s a woman, son. Tell her what you feel, and you have a shot. Load her with facts, and she’ll wash her hands of you.” “Is that what you did with Mrs. Hawking?” Hotch asked. Hawking looked up, surprised. He chuckled. “No, but I should have. Maybe I will yet.” Hawking strolled toward the door. He stopped before walking through it. “Go home, son. Find out what you need to do to keep them. Whatever it is, I’ll make it happen on base.” **** Hotch walked toward her, a lean confident figure in the distance. The gray ocean that touched the deepening blue sky was his backdrop. His bare feet kicked up white North Carolina sand. The ever-present breeze teased his hair, and Erin’s heart pulled. She couldn’t tear her eyes from him. As he drew closer, it became even more difficult. His blue eyes looked as turbulent as the storming sea. He smiled, and she smiled back, wishing she hadn’t taken Toby to her mother’s, so that she’d have him as a distraction. But she didn’t have her child. She had only Hotch walking toward her purposefully. Warmth flickered in her chest as persistently as the eternal flame marking the monument of lost sailors. She sat on one curved whitewashed wall to think about Troy. She’d come to pay her respects and to demand that her heart hurt as freshly as it had when she’d lost her would-be fiancé. Yet tonight there was only one lost sailor she mourned with that kind of pain, and he was crossing the white expanse to reach her.

Hotch stopped in front of her. He tucked his chin as his gaze traveled over her. “Hi.” “Hi,” she murmured back. “I love you, Erin. I don’t have a family to give you. I don’t have some great military legacy. I don’t even have much of a savings plan, but it’s yours.” “You love me?” she asked slipping off the wall. “How can you be sure it’s love and not the need to have all those things you don’t?” “Because I never missed them the way I miss you, when you’re not in my arms. It tears me up inside that if I give you the wrong answer, I’ll lose you. Erin, I’m not good at the words. I’ve never needed them before now.” She eased her arms around his waist. “Give it a try.” “I don’t just want to come back to you. I want my life to revolve around you. Your dad asked me who I was fighting for when we go on deployment. I didn’t have an answer, but I wanted to have one.” Her throat constricted. She waited, fearful. Hopeful. “I want to say I’m fighting for you. That when I go on a mission it’s to protect your freedom, Toby’s rights. I want to be able to claim that you’re my purpose.” “Whether or not I am, Toby is. He’s a part of you and that won’t change.” Hotch shook his head with apparent frustration. “You’re not understanding me.” “I’m understanding, I just want you to be sure you know what you’re asking.” “Erin, how many times does a guy have to ask you to marry him before you believe he means it?” She felt sorry for him. She wasn’t making it easy, but it meant everything to her if he got this right. If they got this right. “Are you asking the package deal, or me?” “You.” Erin rose up on her toes. She kissed him, enjoying the way their mouths slid together and his body supported hers. As she lowered herself, she looked in to his questioning aqua gaze. The shape and color of his eyes were so like her son’s and yet Hotch looked at her as a woman—with a different kind of need. “Yes,” she agreed smiling. “I’ll marry you.” Hotch whooped and lifted her into a spin. Erin hung on, laughing as they twirled. “I have a condition though.”

“Uh oh.” He set her down again. “You continue serving the way you want to serve the military. If that means active duty with the Skins and the rest of the Navy SEALs, then that’s what you do.” “It’s okay. Your dad said he’d make arrangements,” Hotch told her. Erin ducked her head, trying to find a way to say what she needed to without sounding like she was sending him off easily. She didn’t want to let him go, yet she had to. “You’re a SEAL, Hotch. I’m not going to ask you to change that. It’s who you are.” “It doesn’t have to be.” “You’d be miserable and you’d eventually come to resent me.” Erin broke away from him. This was serious, and she needed him to see it. “I don’t want to be the reason you leave the Navy. It needs to be at your own pace. Right now? Right here? This is who you are. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that as much as I hate what the military has done to my family, I seem to be drawn to its men.” “Like Nebraska,” he agreed. “Like you. Like the personalities of any of the men who get close to me. My fears are my hang-ups. Logically, I know that military doesn’t automatically mean broken relationships. Or death.” When she looked up at him, Hotch hooked a finger under her chin. His thumb smoothed across her cheek. It gave her the courage to continue. “You’re the one I want. For whatever reason, the Navy seems to be my dating pool.” She laughed uncomfortably. “If you were anything other than the man you are, I wouldn’t be in love with you. Changing that would be like cutting off my own arm. I won’t do it.” “Won’t you be unhappy?” “I’m not sure Navy wives marry without understanding that the military is the lifeblood of their men. I mean, they know, but the extent is always hard on a marriage. It was for my dad. It was for Troy. It is for you. Hell, with his upbringing it will probably be that way for Toby, too.” “Will you resent me for staying?” She thought about it then slowly shook her head. “No, I’ll respect you for your principles and remind myself that I chose you, and all the baggage that entails.”

Hotch grinned boyishly, but the sparkle in his eye made his expression distinctly heated. “So you love me, huh?” “Something like that,” she laughed. “When do you want to make it official?” “Let’s take our time. Go on deployment. Come home. We have our whole lives ahead of us. Toby and I aren’t going anywhere.”

Epilogue

“Daddy!” Toby squealed running through the open front door, around the flower delivery guy’s legs and across the lawn. Erin’s heart raced as she dodged after him. Hotch swept Toby into his arms and peppered the three year old with kisses. “Where’s your gorgeous mommy?” he asked Toby. Toby swung around in his arms and pointed joyfully at Erin. She watched them together, the urge to cry making her temples and eyes feel hot. She blinked and sent them a watery smile. He dropped his duffel on the lawn and opened his free arm. “Don’t make me beg, baby.” She laughed, stepping into his embrace and holding him as tightly as he held her. “I’ve missed you.” “I never get tired of hearing that,” he murmured. “C’mon. Toby and I made welcome-home cookies.” “Mom, look who’s home!” she yelled to the house. She picked up Hotch’s duffel and looped her arm around his waist as they walked up. “She’s a bit frazzled. She’s been signing for wedding gifts and supplies all day.” As if to prove her point, the delivery guy tucked his electronic signing pad under his arm and jogged down the path to the driveway. “Mom?” Erin called again. Her mother stood in the entryway, her arms folded across her chest as she stared at a huge floral arrangement of roses in every color. “Roses? I thought we were going with tulips,” Hotch wondered aloud.

“We are, and I love that you remember that,” Erin said kissing his cheek. “Did you tell them to take it back?” Erin asked her. Her mother shook her head no. Her lips were tightly pressed, and she didn’t look at Erin. “Mom? What’s the matter?” Erin let go of Hotch and his duffel to glance at whatever her mother was looking at. “They’re from him,” her mother rasped. Erin tried not to smile or laugh. Neither would go over well with her mother. “Dad?” Her mother nodded once, abruptly, as though acknowledging the identity of the sender would somehow encourage him. Erin took the card and opened the envelope as she had been for the past several months when mysterious packages arrived from her father. She cleared her throat for mild dramatic effect. “Lauren, I’m not giving up. Love, The Jackass.” A reluctant smile tugged at her mother’s lips. “Is there hope, Mom?” “I wouldn’t tell him if there was,” she admitted. “When are you going to put Dad out of his misery?” Erin asked. “I spent years feeling unimportant next to his job. He can keep suffering for a while longer.” “But you’re softening, right?” Her mother shot her a sideways glance. “I signed for them this time, didn’t I?” Erin hugged her and giggled. “Can I give him some encouragement so he keeps trying? It’s been a year. I think he should know that you’re starting to keep the things he sends over.” “I don’t condone or condemn any encouragement you offer him,” her mother decided stubbornly. “Well. It’s progress.” Her mother turned on them. “Micah Hotchkiss, if you ever put my daughter through the hell I’ve had these past decades, I will personally string you up by your flippers and use you for target practice.” “Yes, ma’am,” Hotch answered barely concealing his laughter. He hugged Erin close and with Toby, he dragged them back to the master bedroom. “It won’t happen,” he promised Erin when they were alone.

“I know. We’re already different than they are.” “My Navy SEAL loyalty runs to my team Skins deep, but I belong, body and soul, to you and Toby.”

About the Author

Hi, I'm Katie Blu, the alter ego of Mia Watts. After unsuccessfully mixing genres under one name, I realized that readers needed to know what they could expect from me. So, Katie Blu has been recreated to explore the relationships between men and women. Like Mia (because if you note above, I am Mia), I make my home in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I spend my days at my day job and every other available minute writing. I strive to make my characters believable, loveable, unforgettable, and--oh yeah--hot for each other.

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