Well, he thought, it’s now or never.
He climbed out of his car and walked around to the front, then leaned casually against the hood with his arms crossed. He’d lucked out in finding a parking space right next to hers, so he figured he’d take advantage of it.
She didn’t see him at first. She was focused on digging her keys out of her purse as she walked. But when she was a few yards away, she pulled her overstuffed key ring out of her bag and looked up, pointing the fob at her car – and then froze in place as her eyes landed on his face.
She stood stock still for a moment, then sputtered, “Wait…what the…what…?”
He cocked his head to the side. “I thought this was what we did now. Just show up unexpectedly. Is this not our new MO?”
It took her a moment to process the words, but when she did, she threw her head back and laughed from deep within her belly. He felt a stirring in his chest. Her laugh had always been one of his favorite things about her, especially when it was one of those all-consuming laughs that she surrendered her entire body and soul to.
The only thing that could make one of those laughs better was when he’d caused it. So this moment, right here, was basically the pinnacle as far as he was concerned.
Until the laugh was cut short by her clutching her head and groaning, long and loud. He stepped forward, concern flooding him. “God, Gen, what’s wrong?”
She rubbed her forehead. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that my head is in the secure grip of a vise, and I just vomited all over my co-worker. No biggie.”
He drew his brows together. “Is that some kind of euphemism?”
She grunted. “No. God. Why does everyone think that? I mean I literally blew chunks all down Bernice Baxter’s chest. It was gross. And kind of weirdly satisfying. But mostly gross.”
“Are you sick?”
“Hungover.”
“Ah, got it. Well, come on. I’m driving you home and making you my surefire hangover cure.”
“It’s not necessary, Gavin. I’m actually feeling a lot better already.”
“I know it’s not necessary. It’s what friends do. Come on.”
She nodded, then, and walked to the passenger side of his car. He opened the door for her and settled her gently into the seat.
“I’m not an invalid,” she groused, but he noticed that, at the same time, she didn’t turn down the assistance.
“I know you’re not.” He understood her being grumpy. He didn’t like people fussing over him when he was sick, either. Hell, wasn’t that ninety percent of the reason that he hadn’t told anyone about his condition – he didn’t want to deal with the sympathetic faces, the awkward expressions of sympathy, and the worst part – being treated like he needed to be taken care of. No fucking thank you.
But, as he settled himself into the driver’s seat and started the car, the first thing he did was glance over at Gen’s pitiful form, slumped against the window. He was filled with such a strong protective instinct that his hands curled around the steering wheel nearly into fists, squeezing so hard that his knuckles were pure white.
He knew in that moment that he’d kick the ass of anyone that tried to hurt her, ever. The only problem with that came when the thing trying to hurt her was not a person that could be easily ass-kicked, but rather something hard to pinpoint, like illness or pain. That was the real bitch of it – how the hell were you supposed to dropkick a headache? Or throat-punch the flu?
Damn. He was getting a rare glimpse into the other side of that equation. Being the caretaker, or even just in the same vicinity, of someone you cared about when they were sick was just as hard. Maybe even harder, in a lot of ways.
And, shit, Gen only had a stupid hangover. Not a brain tumor, however benign.
God. He knew that his family was going to freak out when they heard those words: brain tumor. He knew it because that’s what he’d done, and – glimpse into the other side of the equation or not – he just wasn’t ready to be on the receiving end of those freak-outs.
And Gen. He couldn’t stand the thought of the pity that would certainly appear in her eyes as soon as she found out what was going on with him. The look she got in her eyes when she turned them on him had always been one of his favorite things about her.
But he knew that, with a few small words, she could very well stop thinking of him as “sexy, dashing pilot man” and start thinking of him as “poor, pathetic brain tumor guy.” There was no way that transition wouldn’t be crystal clear in those incredible, expressive eyes of hers. And, yeah. He just couldn’t stand to see it.
He started the car and, just before he pulled away, she said, “Hey, Gavin?”
He turned his head to look at her. She hadn’t picked her head up from where she was resting it against the window. She hadn’t even opened her eyes, in fact.
“Yeah?”
Her voice was grudging. “Thanks.”
He smiled. He knew how hard that must’ve been for her. “Anytime, babe.”
She groaned. “Let’s hope to God that’s not necessary.”
Gen leaned her head against the side of the car door, then closed her eyes as the car started moving. She looked like an angel to him every time he glanced over at her during the drive. Her face was blank and peaceful.
Well, he reasoned with a small smile, that’s probably more “trying to keep the vomit down” than “peace” I see there, but who am I to ruin a nice moment?
He pulled up in front of her apartment and turned the car off. She opened her eyes and reached for the door handle but he put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“Hold on, I’m coming around.”
She shot him a look of disdain. “You know I don’t like all that chivalry stuff. I’m perfectly capable of opening my own door.”
“Yeah, but are you capable of getting yourself all the way up the walk without losing your balance or blowing chunks?”
She sat there for a moment, hand frozen halfway to the door handle, considering the question. Finally, she sat back with a half-smile on her lips and let her hand fall to her lap. “Touché.”
He hopped out of the car and ran around the back, opening her door and offering his arm for her to steady herself with as she climbed out, and then let her lean on him during the walk up to her front door, his hand at the small of her back to provide support.
She fumbled in her bag but finally pulled out her keys. When she had opened her front door, she turned to him with a rueful grin. “Well, I would give you a kiss goodbye, but my breath isn’t exactly up to kissing standards.”
He shook his head. “No need for a kiss goodbye. I’m staying.”
She put a hand on his chest. “Gavin, you know I’m usually in the mood no matter what, but I’m really not feeling well right now.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, voice wry. “You’re hot. But not hot enough that I’d risk jumping you when I’d probably end up with a mouth full of vomit for my trouble.”
She laughed, and the laugh quickly devolved into a groan as she dropped her forehead into her hand. “Don’t make me laugh while I’m hung over,” she admonished him, and stepped inside. “Anyway, you’re welcome to come in. Although I’m probably just going to take a shower, give my teeth an industrial-strength brushing, and then pour myself into bed.”
He followed her into her living room and closed the door behind them, locking it securely. It was part of his ongoing instincts to keep her safe – he knew she was perfectly capable of locking her own door, just like she was perfectly capable of opening the one in the car. But if he was around, he was going to be taking care of her. That was just how he was built.
“Good. That sounds like exactly what you need. While you’re in the shower, I’ll turn down your bed and make you some tea.”
She tilted her head to the side and drew her brows together as she glanced back at him. “Wait a minute, are you staying here because you want to play nursemaid? Because that’s serio
usly unnecessary. Like I said, I’m just gonna hit the shower, and then the hay.”
He nodded. “That’s fine. You hit the shower. I’ll make the tea.
She opened her mouth to protest again, and he took her hand in his, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say. “Look, Genevieve. I want to take care of you. So will you just let me? If not for your sake, for mine. And I’m well aware that you don’t need it. But you deserve it.”
Her cheeks colored slightly as she listened to what, for him, was an epic speech. The words hung in the silence between them for a moment, until finally she cracked a smart ass grin and, as she turned and headed for her bedroom, said, “Well, since you put it that way. The tea’s in the pantry.”
Chapter 20
The first thing that Gen was aware of in the morning, before she even opened her eyes, was the overwhelming smell of frying bacon. Following quickly on its heels was the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and her stomach growled at the delicious onslaught.
That’s when her eyes popped open, and the events of the day before came rushing back. She laid there for a long minute, taking an internal inventory, searching for any leftover symptom that might be hanging around.
Clearly, the nausea was gone. In fact, it had been replaced by hunger. She also couldn’t detect any signs of headache, muscle pain, or cottonmouth – all of the classic signs of hangover.
Of course, yesterday had been the actual day after the drinking, which probably explained why she felt so great today. But her symptoms had been so gnarly that she hadn’t been quite convinced that it was even possible for them to disappear overnight.
And yet, they had. And she was beyond relieved. She was sure that Bernice would be, too, when she found out.
“Yeah, not my finest hour,” she mumbled to herself under her breath.
Then, another thought occurred to her. Holy shit, Gavin must be here. Either that, or some intruder broke in to cook me breakfast. Damn…that means he stayed all night!
She hopped out of bed and headed straight into the bathroom. She was going to brush her teeth, of course. But she also needed to brush her hair just enough so that it looked good, but not enough so that it looked like she had made an effort. Damn, these balancing acts were so tricky!
A few minutes later, she wandered into the living room, and when Gavin turned around and spotted her, she made a show of yawning and stretching her arms above her head.
“Oh, my God, Gavin,” she said, letting her voice take on just the slightest sleepy tinge. Just enough to make it seemed casual, not enough to make it seem theatrical. “What are you still doing here? Did you sleep on my couch? Totally unnecessary. But thank you.”
“I figured you would need to get some food on your belly first thing. I’ve been through plenty of hangover aftermath mornings myself. Grease, combined with caffeine. It’s the best thing for you.”
She settled herself on one of the stools that stood in front of her breakfast counter. “Well, it smells delicious.”
Setting a full plate and steaming mug down in front of her, he said, “Well, let’s see if the taste lives up to it.”
She took the fork he offered her and used it to shovel a generous mound of creamy scrambled eggs into her mouth. She let out a combination whimper-slash-groan that was completely sincere – not part of her little act at all.
“Holy short order cook, these are fantastic. Where in the hell did you learn to cook like this?”
He gave her a small, sheepish smile and held up his phone, on which was the frozen face of Gordon Ramsay with a translucent “play” icon overlaying the screen. “YouTube video,” he admitted. “Mila turned me on to them. It’s kind of amazing – you can learn how to do pretty much anything.”
She put her fork down and laughed. Gavin inclined his head, puzzlement taking over his face. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
She reached across the counter and took his hand. “I know. That’s why it was. Apparently, that’s a trait that we share – we’re just being ourselves and people think it’s a real crack up.”
His eyes drifted down to her hand on his and his breathing sped up a little. She picked up on the change in the energy between them immediately. It would’ve been hard not to, the air was suddenly alive with crackling electricity. All of the small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and little skitters of anticipation skated over her skin from head to toe.
She looked up at him, a slow and sultry smile building on her lips. “Well,” she said, her voice low and seductive, “apparently I was wrong last night when I told you not to bother coming in. Looks like you’re going to get laid after all.”
Chapter 21
Wasting no time, Gavin came around the chest high kitchen counter, the barrier that separated the two of them, and stood in front of her. The energy between them was still sparking, and his heart beat fast.
He looked at her China-doll complexion, and her wide blue eyes, which were giving him such a look of innocent vulnerability mixed with sultry seduction that his chest squeezed tight, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.
He wanted to. He wanted nothing more than to just pull her into his arms, scoop her up against him and hold her tight. Protect her, so that nothing in the world could hurt her. Not without going through him first, anyway.
He brushed her hair back from her face, gave her a compact smile. The only kind he had to give. God, he wanted to give her the best of everything. Including the best of him. The only question was how to do that.
He moved his head in and gave her a gentle kiss. It deepened quickly, though, and before long he was moving his lips against hers with all the passion and fire he possessed.
Her tongue pressed into his mouth and she kissed him hard as her hands moved down his body, unfastening his pants and sliding inside his boxer briefs. Fuck, he loved it when she undressed him. It was sexy as hell.
He returned the favor, pulling her jeans and panties down over her hips, then continued down her thighs and past her knees until they were all the way to her ankles and she stepped neatly out of them.
She pulled back for a quick moment, placed her palm flat against the side of his face, and he reached up and covered her hand with his, leaning his head to the side a little so that his cheek pressed more firmly into her hand.
This was so different than their usual rhythm, which was totally carnal. That was great, of course. But this was even better.
His eyes stayed glued to hers as he removed the rest of her clothes and ran his hands over every inch of her, drinking in the changing sensation that flashed behind those beautiful blue orbs as he touched the different parts of her body. Her eyes were more than just a window to her soul, they were a virtual movie projector that told a crystal-clear story about what was going on inside her mind.
He ran his fingers all over the silken skin of her body, taking his time as he savored each curve of her incredible form. He was in no hurry. Not this time. They had all day for each other, and in fact he couldn’t think of a more awesome way to spend his time than exploring every gorgeous nook and cranny of Genevieve.
He moved his hands down her chest, skimming them over her creamy skin until he reached her breasts, and he cupped them firmly from beneath, feasting his eyes on them. Her body was new to him every time he saw it – but also familiar, both at the same time, which seemed like it should’ve been a contradiction, but somehow wasn’t.
He slid his arms around her then, holding her close to him, loving the way that energy flowed between their bodies as they pressed together.
He couldn’t help but notice the contrast of their skin as he put his hands on her. They were the opposite in every way. Her skin was light while his was tan from long days in the sun. Hers was creamy while his was work roughened. The contrasts only made touching her all the more sexy.
She drew away just enough to take off the rest of his clothes, and they stood there together, naked. Now it was her turn to let her hands run wild over his body,
trailing over every taut muscle.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her hand as it made slow but steady progress toward his proud erection. His dick twitched in anticipation of her touch, and that anticipation grew more delicious with every passing second.
Finally, her fingers closed around his hard shaft, drawing a grunt from deep in his chest as she tightened her grip. When she started moving her fist up and down over his steel rod, that grunt turned into a tortured groan.
While one hand kept up its rhythm on his cock, the other cupped his balls and gently massaged them, drawing out his arousal on two fronts.
His breath turned into rapid panting. Her touch was so powerful. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was like she read his mind, or rather his body. She knew exactly where to touch him, and exactly how to move her hands, to get the strongest reactions from him.
He pushed himself forward, thrusting his hips again and again as she moved her hand furiously up and down on his dick. This was their magic, the fact that they could so easily find a rhythm together and match their movements like the whole thing had been choreographed. It had, in a way – this ancient rhythm had been hardcoded into their DNA, and they were now just following their instincts.
As her hand picked up more and more speed moving up and down his cock, her other hand massaged his balls more rapidly, but never lost the gentle and featherlight quality to the touch that made it feel oh so very fucking good.
She kissed his neck as she worked him with her hands, then moved her lips lower down his body, planting small kisses as she went, and finally dropped to her knees in front of him, looking up at him coquettishly as she did.
She took his dick in her hands, eyeing it hungrily. That look of wolfish desire on her face turned him on so much that a drop of pre-come appeared on his dick. With a small half smile, she reached out her tongue and lapped it up.
The warm feel of her tongue against his sensitive tip just made another drop appear right after it. Damn, he thought, this could go on all day.
Rescuing His Heart Page 8