Tatiana ignored it and threw him a challenging look, which, personally, I didn’t think was wise.

I was pretty certain he wasn’t going to let her go out looking like that, but to my shock, he did.

Although he did this at the same time warning Gear to, “Keep an eye on your fuckin’ sister.”

Perhaps that was the answer to one of my questions about this family.

Buck also showed no hesitation dropping the F-bomb around his kids, even doing it while speaking to them.

I didn’t ask why he allowed his sixteen-year-old daughter to walk out of the house looking one step up from streetwalker because it was none of my business.

However, I suspected he did this because he didn’t want to get into it with her in front of me. That would not make him or me popular, and he liked being the former and he wanted the latter.

After the kids were gone, we didn’t debrief about the night.

We did what we always did: camped out in front of the TV, my cheek to Buck’s thigh, his feet on the coffee table, his fingers in my hair and a beer in his other hand.

I was not wrong. After days of being careful with myself, a day of activity tuckered me out. I was asleep within an hour.

Now I was awake, and apparently it was bedtime.

Surprisingly, Buck didn’t shift out from under me in order to lift me up and carry me to bed.

Instead, he pulled me into his lap.

Automatically, still half in a doze, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders in preparation for him carrying me to the bedroom.

He didn’t do this either.

He touched his mouth to mine.

My eyes opened as his lips slid down my cheek to my jaw to my neck. Through this, his hands worked their way under my blouse so they were skin against skin.

Oh my.

“Buck?” I called.

“I’ll go gentle, baby,” he whispered in my ear. I got what he was saying instantly, and a shiver slid through me. His hands on me, his lips at my ear, all thoughts of Nails or, say, anything, nowhere near my head. “You seem good, but I hurt you, you let me know and we’ll get creative.”

Creative.

Oh.

My.

“Buck—” I breathed.

It was already starting, and it revved up when his hands moved over my ribcage and I felt one thumb slide along the underside of my breast.

That breast swelled, and to keep it company, the other one did too.

“Buck,” I repeated on a breath.

His head came up, his mouth taking mine in a full-on, tongues-tangled kiss.

Wow.

I moved my arms from his shoulders so I could get my hands to his skin. When I pulled his T-shirt free of his jeans and slid my fingers over the sleek, hard muscle, I liked it so much I moaned into his mouth.

Buck liked that so much, he shifted so his back was to the seat of the couch, I was on top, and his fingers plunged into my hair, cupping my scalp, tilting my head and holding me to him so his mouth could plunder mine.

I let him plunder. He could plunder all night. I loved the way Buck plundered and I showed him this by pressing into him.

His other hand moved between us, undoing my jeans then sliding around and down, his fingers clenching my behind.

I pushed my hips into his.

“Fuck, baby, missed this ass,” Buck growled against my lips, his fingers digging in, and I agreed, partially.

I missed his hand on my ass.

I cupped his bearded jaw and slid my lips through his thick whiskers down the other side, to his neck and onward, to the collar of his tee. I ran my tongue along the edge of the material.

He tasted good everywhere.

He flexed his fingers into my flesh again then I felt his body go still under mine.

My head came up and I looked down at him.

His head was turned, and his brows were drawn.

I turned to see what he was looking at, just caught the lights on the drive, and then I was moving. Before I knew it, I was on my feet and Buck was doing up my jeans.

“Fuck, they’re early,” he muttered.

“What? Who?” I asked, confused and trying to adjust from making out with Buck on his couch with his hand in my jeans to standing beside it with his hands doing up my zipper.

“Tatie and Gear,” he answered, and I looked from his hands to his face as he finished with the button and his fingers moved to curve around my hips and pull me to him. “Their curfew is one. It’s barely eleven. They’re early.”

Oh.

Big-time bummer.

“Oh,” I whispered as I laid my hands flat on his chest.

His hands stayed where they were, keeping me where I was, but his head turned toward the front door.

“Not thinkin’ this is good,” he murmured.

“Why?”

He looked down at me.

“They both like a good time. They’re never home early.”

“Do they usually get in by curfew?” I asked.

“They’ve pushed it once or twice, but yeah, usually. Just never early.”

The door opened and both Buck and I looked that way.

It took approximately three quarters of a second to see why Gear and Tatiana were home early.

Gear was angry, very angry, spitting-venom-like-his-dad angry.

Tatiana was one hundred percent hammered.

“Do not give me shit,” Gear warned, his eyes on his father, his hand curled around his sister’s biceps, propelling her drunk-and-loose-like-a-ragdoll body into the house and slamming the door.

Buck had let me go and he was on the move, making a beeline toward his kids.

“What the fuck?” he clipped, not heeding Gear’s warning. “Didn’t I say look out for her?”

“Yeah, you said it. She just didn’t listen to a freakin’ word I said. I dumped three beers, she just got more and did shots of everything anyone would offer her. She was on a frickin’ mission to get totally and completely shitfaced.”

Oh dear.

I had a not-so-vague feeling this was my fault.

Buck commandeered Tatiana by taking hold of her other biceps and pulling her from Gear, who seemed happy to be rid of her.

Her head bobbing on her shoulders, she stumbled. Her feet shifting to right herself, she slipped off her heel, and then by what would seem from her state was a small miracle, she recovered. The whole time she looked up and didn’t exactly focus on her father.

“Hey, Daddy.”

She grinned at her dad, then gulped, and suddenly, Buck and Gear both moved quickly, each taking a huge step away from her as she bent over and vomited on the wood floor of the entry.

Ick!

“Fuck me,” Buck growled, his angry eyes aimed to the floor.

I moved while ordering, “Get her to the bathroom.”

“No shit, Toots?” Buck replied as I headed to his bedroom, but I looked over my shoulder to see that he had his daughter in his arms, and he was walking swiftly my way as Tatiana’s body heaved.

She was going to blow again.

I started running.

I hit his bedroom, went to the vanity in the bathroom where, in a drawer, I’d put my hair stuff, and grabbed a huge clip (one bonus of Buck not primping, I had plenty of space to move in, not only in the bathroom, but also in his closet and chest of drawers).

Procuring this, I ran to the bathroom that separated Buck’s office from Tatiana’s bedroom and saw Gear standing outside looking in, arms crossed on his chest, an expression on his face that said both, “Gross,” and, “My sister’s an idiot.”