A tiny pause filtered down the line before Zeke’s whisky-warm voice followed. “Didn’t realize it would be this hard.”
Her heart might have been up and galloping at full speed, but her brain was still apparently too sleep-muddled for conversation. “What’s hard?”
“Hearing your voice first thing in the morning and not being there to enjoy it in person.”
Whoa.
All the giddy flutters she’d painstakingly corralled one memory at a time the night before escaped her makeshift emotional cage and winged toward the stratosphere.
“We’ll fix that soon enough,” he added.
Another flutter kicked in, this one centered between her legs and eliciting a soft groan.
Zeke chuckled at that, but had the decency not to call her on it. “You sleep good?”
Still swimming in the deeply visceral response pulsing through her body, she eased against the headboard and fisted the blanket pooled across her lap. “Very good.” Granted, it’d taken her two movies and half of a new book to get there before her mind stopped replaying their date in vivid detail, but eventually exhaustion had taken over and led her straight into phenomenal dreams. “How was your shift?”
“Long. Boring.” He paused for a beat. When he spoke again his words were laced with pure mischief. “Plenty of time for me to remember my kitten stretched out on her bed.”
Her cheeks burned as though witnesses crowded around her bed, but damned if she cared at this point. She could die tomorrow and not regret a single thing in her life after the day he’d given her. “Yesterday was nice.”
God, what was she saying? He’d gone all out and she called it nice? Surely she could do better than that.
She cleared her throat and whispered, “More than nice. It was perfect.”
Rustling sounded through the phone line, a soft fabric-on-fabric slide. “Perfect would have been me finishing out the day next to you instead of crawling into my bed alone and exhausted fifteen hours later, but I agree. We teed up a spectacular start.”
“A start?”
His voice softened. “Yeah, gatinha. A start. For us. Now, tell me what your plans are for tonight.”
An us.
As in not just a one-time thing.
She barely stifled the school-girl squee ripping up the back of her throat, drew her knees up toward her chest and tried for a casual tone. “Not much.” Okay, not exactly the casual she’d hoped for. Closer to breathless and needy, but considering the adrenaline main-lining through her veins, still pretty impressive. “I usually cook and watch TV or read at night.”
“Good, then I won’t knock you too far off your normal game if I invite myself over?”
Another date.
With Zeke.
She smiled so big her cheeks ached and whispered, “I’d like that.”
“Good. What time’s dinner?”
“Umm...” What time did guys like Zeke usually eat? Everyone she shared dinner with in the neighborhood ate between five and six, but they were also usually in bed by eight. “Maybe seven?”
“Then I’ll be there at six thirty to help.”
He would? With Danny, she was lucky if plates ended up in the dishwasher. Her dad hadn’t been much better when he’d been alive.
“Want me to bring anything?” he asked.
Like she’d be able to come up with anything on the spur of the moment with her thoughts whirring in all different directions. And holy crap! What the heck was she going to cook? “Maybe whatever you want to drink? I’ve only got tea for me and Danny’s beer.”
“Got it. I’ll load you up on Bohemia Weiss. Anything else?”
At this rate oxygen would be good. And maybe something to take her pulse down a notch or two. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, you’ve got my number on your phone now. If you think of something call me. Otherwise, I’ll see you at six thirty.”
“Okay.”
He chuckled. “Goodnight, Gabrielle.”
God, she loved it when he said her name like that. Like she was a beautiful woman instead of just another one of the guys. She bit her lip, her heart thumping strong and steady enough to count for a week’s worth of exercise. “Sweet dreams.”
The rustle of his bedcovers came first, followed by his husky response. “Sweetheart, knowing my day’s gonna end with me curled up next to you and my stomach full of whatever you cook, sweet dreams are a foregone conclusion.”
* * *
It was official. Zeke had snagged one kick-ass cook in Gabrielle Parker. And by kick-ass he didn’t mean some frilly Martha Stewart wannabe, but a down-home, this-man’s-gonna-pack-on-some-pounds miracle in the kitchen. Never in his life had he knocked back three bowls of chili, but for the batch Gabe had whipped up tonight, he’d happily rallied for a third helping.
Sated and stretched out on the couch with Gabe spooned in front of him, the tail end of the vampire series they’d watched for the past hour was more background noise than actual entertainment. Hell, his favorite teams could be in the damned Super Bowl, tied with only two minutes left in the game, and he still wouldn’t pay attention to the screen. Having Gabe this close, this loose and relaxed against him, was a much better draw for his attention. If his dick had its way, they’d have forgone TV about an hour ago and be sweaty and catatonic from some serious skin-on-skin action.
But he wasn’t listening to his dick. Not with Gabe.
All through his shift, he’d puzzled over her fearful response the night before. Wondered what kind of experiences she’d been through to make her assume she’d done something wrong just because she’d been the only one to get off.
He shouldn’t have gone as far as he did. That much was 100 percent clear. Now he’d have to find a way to slow things down without making her draw the same negative assumption, because when he took her for the first time it damn sure wasn’t going to be with her worrying he wouldn’t stick around to see daylight.
The oversize and faded red sweatshirt she’d worn tonight had slipped over one shoulder, leaving a delectable stretch of skin exposed. Even knowing the tricky terrain he’d have to navigate, he gave into temptation, swept her silky blond hair out of his way, and kissed the spot where her neck and shoulder met.
A shiver worked through her and her hand tightened on his where it rested against her belly.
Breathing in her soft scent, he skimmed his lips toward her shoulder, interspersing subtle scrapes of his teeth, soothing licks and gentle rasps from his beard.
She tilted her head and pressed her ass against his rapidly hardening cock. “Zeke.”
Christ. All she’d done was give him better access and said his name, and he was ready and raring to go.
He threaded his fingers with hers and squeezed. It was either that or slide his hands under her sweatshirt and fill his palms with her tits, and that play wasn’t in the cards. Not yet. Much as it scared him to broach it, he’d be a lot smarter to play her straight as to why before things got too much further down the road.
Propping himself higher on one elbow, he pressed one last kiss to her creamy skin then savored the unguarded bliss on her face. “Want to talk to you about last night.”
Her eyes snapped open and her body went rigid.
“Easy.” He hugged her closer to him and kissed the crown of her shoulder. “Just because I want to talk doesn’t mean the topic’s a bad one.” Though her immediate reaction sure as shit emphasized taking things slow was the right approach.
She twisted her head enough to peer up at him. “Okay.”
He urged her to roll the rest of the way over so she lay stretched out on her back beside him, then cocked one leg over her hip and reclaimed her hand in his. Whether he was trying to reassure her or keep her from bolting he wasn’t sure. Maybe a little of both. Bu
t his instincts insisted on closeness, so he went with it. “I liked last night. A lot.”
Some of the wariness on her face faded, and the television’s soft glow highlighted the blush that lit her cheeks. “I did, too.” As confessions went, it was tentative, but utterly adorable.
“Good.” He smoothed his thumb across her knuckles, not feeling a tenth of the same surety he tried to convey. “What I didn’t like was seeing you afraid after the fact.”
She averted her face and, sure enough, tried to wiggle off the couch.
He held her fast. “Don’t shut down on me.”
She ceased trying to keep away, but still wouldn’t look at him.
“This is important.” He cradled the side of her face and urged her attention back toward him. “I want to be with you, Gabrielle. In every way. Not just sex. But I want to do it at a pace where I know you’re not worrying on the inside. I want you to understand I’m here because of you. All of you.”
Her gaze dropped to his chest and she relaxed her hands where she’d fisted them against his shoulders and tried to push him away. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want us to take our time. I want to get you to a place where you can be intimate with me and know we’re there because I want to give and share pleasure. Not because I want to get laid.”
That got her attention. “You mean that?”
Jesus, God Almighty, he wanted just thirty minutes alone with the motherfucker who’d put that doubt in her mind. Thirty unchecked, merciless minutes. “I absolutely mean that. I told you yesterday, I can’t predict what’ll happen between us for the long haul, but I can assure you it’s more than just getting you in bed.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she wrapped him up in a fierce hug and buried her face in his neck before they could fall.
He rolled to his back and took her with him, protecting her ribs as he went and sheltering her inside his arms while she let the tears free. Up and down, he smoothed one hand along her spine while he cupped the back of her head with the other. Damn it, but he hated seeing her cry. Hated even more that he’d been the one to cause it, but sharing the way he had still felt right.
When her shudders died down and her breaths had slowed to a normal rate, he smoothed her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Better?”
She sniffled and nodded, but kept her face where he couldn’t see her.
“Gatinha. Look at me.”
It took another few heart beats and a long enough pause to dash the back of her hand against her cheeks, but she finally did.
And the sight seized his heart, tear-stained cheeks, puffy eyes, and all. “God, you’re beautiful.”
She ducked her head in that endearingly shy way of hers and shrugged. “I’m just Gabe.”
He chuckled at that, which earned him a mini-glare beneath her wet eyelashes.
“Just Gabe, huh?” He gently traced the line of her cheek with his thumb. Her jaw. Her lips.
She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh.
With every inch he covered, her shyness fell away, replaced with the same open, sensual abandon he’d discovered last night. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you’ve got a full appreciation for all that you are. All that the people close to you see.” He palmed her nape and gently squeezed. “Look at me, Gabrielle.”
Slowly, she opened her eyes. Where the room’s shadows had left her pupils slightly dilated before, now the black was prominent against her pale blue irises, and her eyelids hung heavy with need. Even her breathing was faster and a little ragged.
So responsive. Gloriously perfect. One way or another he was going to fan that part of her and help it grow. More than that, he’d protect it. “You are absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. Inside and out.”
She frowned and opened her mouth.
“Beautiful,” he repeated before she could speak. “Giving. Sweet. Smart. You may not see or accept that yet, but I’m going to repeat it until it sinks in and you believe it.” He tugged her closer, guided her lips against his and murmured, “Until you feel it.”
Her mouth parted on a gentle moan and her tongue tangled with his, the fluidness of how they meshed both urgent and natural. With the same abandonment she’d shown the day before, she straddled his hips and deepened the kiss, his curious kitten fired up and hell-bent to consume everything he could give her.
Her scent, her taste and her touch surrounded him. In that moment, everything good that was Gabe was his. A gift and a benediction that resonated so much deeper than sinew and bone it rocked him to the core.
As quick as the kiss had flared, she pulled away, her chest pumping to match his own. She bit her lip and dragged her gaze down his torso. “Does taking our time mean I can’t touch you?”
Oh, he was so fucked. Well and truly fucked. His voice came out about an octave lower and a whole lot more ragged. “Not gonna lie, gatinha. When I said I want you, I meant I want you. Want to bury myself so damned deep inside you never forget the feel of me. So you, sitting where you are and looking down at me with those sexy eyes, touching’s probably a terrible idea.” He gripped her hips and fought the urge to grind his rock-hard cock against her sex. “That said, I’d also jump out of a plane without a parachute if it meant getting your hands on me, so if you want to explore, I’ll hang on as long as I can without throwing slow out the window.”
Her smile was instant and blinding, as if his honest words had supercharged her confidence in a flash fire. With tentative fingers, she touched his abdomen.
His cock jerked against the choke hold of his jeans and he hissed.
She yanked her hands back and fisted them as though she’d been burned. “What’s wrong?”
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to find his center. Some tiny scrap of calm so he could give her what she wanted. “Not a damned thing.” He pulled in a slow breath, opened his eyes, and guided her hands back where they’d been. “Your hands on me are a fucking miracle. I’m just doing my best not to cry uncle too soon.”
Her lips crooked in a hesitant, but saucy smile, and her attention dipped lower to the obvious ridge beneath his fly.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “I’m willing to a point, but I’m no saint. One of these days, I’ll let you have your fill of me however you want it, but today those hands stay above my hips.”
An emotion flared behind her eyes. Hunger for sure, but something else, as well. Something that made him wish the word slow had never factored in his plans. She tugged his T-shirt free of his waistband and slipped her fingers beneath the hem.
His muscles flexed at the contact, the soft press of her hands sweet torture.
She took her time, slowly ghosting the pads of her fingers against his skin and tracing each rise and dip of his muscles as though fascinated. Working from his abs to his obliques, she pushed his shirt up above his pecs. Her attention snagged on his dog tags resting against his sternum. “What are those?”
Wrangling his thoughts up out of the dangerous terrain she’d created, he forced his mouth to move. “They’re from my brothers. We all have them.”
She cocked her head and traced the tribal tree etched on the black background. “What’s the H stand for?”
“Haven.”
She frowned and lifted her gaze to his. “Jace and Axel’s ranch?”
Something about the moment gripped him, holding him tight and forcing him to full alert. It wasn’t danger. That he’d have recognized easily. This was something else. Something important. “They named their land Haven when they bought it, yeah, but for me and my brothers it’s about what the word means. We built our family by choice. Doesn’t matter where we come from, how ugly we’ve had it, or what we’ve been through, we’ve got each other’s backs.”
An odd expression moves across her face. A little surprise, but
more than that, longing. “That’s really nice.”
I want to give her that.
One single second. One clear, concise thought and his whole world rearranged. Yeah, he’d known he wanted more than a quick tussle with Gabe, but the reality was he wanted a lot more. As in the home run to beat all others.
“It’s everything.” As the words slipped out, he wasn’t sure if he was commenting on the importance of his brothers in his life, or making Gabe part of it. Hell, he wasn’t even sure the two were separate anymore.
He tugged her forward and held her against his chest, needing the contact and the time to recalibrate.
“You okay?” Gabe muttered.
He swallowed hard and speared his fingers in her hair. Hard to call on that one. Part of him wanted to claim and mark her right then and there. The other half wanted to sprint twenty miles while his head figured out which way was up. “I had a stellar meal. I had an easy, quiet night watching TV and I’ve got a beautiful woman tucked against me. Outside of me not feeling you skin to skin right now, I don’t think I could top tonight.”
She giggled and snuggled closer, her weight the most natural thing in the world.
He’d known in short order Danny was meant to be a brother. Why wouldn’t he recognize something similar between him and Gabe just as quickly?
Still, to bring her into his family he’d have to tread carefully—both for her and for him. The guys needed a chance to get to know her, and her social anxiety wouldn’t make that an easy task. Plus, she’d already demonstrated a rigid perspective where the law was concerned. While he and his brothers never embarked on anything that went against their own code, that didn’t mean their decisions always played within the rules. “I want to ask you a question and I want you to tell me the truth, all right?”
She nodded against his chest.
“That night you went with Danny to the compound, aside from that first panic attack, how comfortable were you?”
She pushed up enough to stare down at him. “What do you mean?”
Hell, he wasn’t sure where he was headed with this. It was just an idea at this point. One that would require him finagling family night somewhere away from Haven to keep from breaking the brotherhood’s rules, but would give her time to get to know his brothers a little better. It would also reinforce he wasn’t looking to crawl in bed with her and then leave. “I mean, my brothers and I get together on a regular basis. Viv and the moms, too. I want to take you with me.”
Wild & Sweet (The Haven Brotherhood) Page 15