Her lips are unbelievably, exquisitely soft. A growl rumbles in my chest and her hand rises to press against it, hesitantly at first as she rouses. I watch as her eyes flutter open and catch mine. As they widen in surprise and then dilate with desire, my muscles steel with triumph.
I use the arm around her waist to my advantage, leveraging her weight until she’s pressed as close as she can be. We both groan in unison at the sensitive contact, the simple touch reigniting the spark between us I’ve been trying so hard to ignore. The pain from my wounds is nonexistent. In its place is pure pleasure.
Her mouth opens and I cup her face with my hands, guiding her movements in tandem with mine. I touch, and taste, and go a little crazy with her kiss. Her fingers clutch at my shoulders as she does everything that she can to practically bind herself to me.
Desire flares white-hot between us and when I’m about to flip her to her back and show her how much I need her, she devastates me by breaking the kiss and sliding her lips along my jaw to my ear. She exhales an unsteady breath and nibbles at the sensitive skin there. My mind blanks and narrows to the simple, but effective point of contact.
How or why doesn’t matter. What matters is the breathless way she whispers my name when I knot her hair in my hand to plunder her mouth. What matters is the way her heart stutters in her chest when I trail my lips on a path down her neck to the pink-splotched skin revealed by the thin hospital blanket.
I bring my lips back to her ear as my hand ghosts along her neckline. “Do you want me to stop, baby?” The question burns me when I ask; the last thing I want to do is stop. But even worse than that would be making a move she isn’t ready for. I’ve got all the time in the world, I can wait. It’ll probably kill me, but I can try.
She answers by plunging her hands into my hair and pulling my mouth back to hers. I respond by covering her body with my own. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I’m moving too fast, doing too much, but she simply cradles me between her thighs, pulling me closer to her warmth. There’s a twinge from my stitches, but I push that to the back of my mind.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman I cared about—probably too long if I’m being honest. After my horrific divorce, relationships weren’t high on my list of priorities. Maybe I was waiting for someone like Chloe. Someone soft and a little sweet, too idealistic for this shitty world, but at the same time, determined in her own right.
Her hands trail along my chest, and no fucking joke, my breath catches in my throat at the hesitant touch of her fingers against my skin. I feel like a goddamned teenager necking in the living room and realize I must immediately shift the balance of power before I completely lose control.
Chloe
I awaken to the warm, comforting feeling of being surrounded by a pair of strong arms. The scent he wears—whatever it is—is like an aphrodisiac. I can’t get close enough. Then his lips are on mine and I forget everything but how it feels to fall.
The world around us fades like a watercolor. The only sensations I’m aware of are the press of his lips against mine, the stubble on his jaw as it scrapes a line down my throat and the sound of the growl in his chest as our bodies press together.
I have to taste more of him so I break the kiss to nibble my way up to his ear and his body vibrates against me. I press my lips to the curve of his neck and inhale deeply. I’m certain then, as sure as I am of my own name, that I will never forget his scent. I’ll be rolling down an aisle at the grocery store and catch the slightest whiff of his cologne and be immediately transported back to this moment.
His mouth travels down my body and then he pauses to ask if this is okay. My only answer is bringing his lips back to mine.
I don’t know how long we lie there, getting to know one another, learning each other’s bodies and responses. We could stay here forever and I wouldn’t give a damn.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt wanted like this. No, needed. When was the last time a man held on to me like he couldn’t let go? I wrap my arms around him and plunge my fingers into his hair, suddenly frantic at the thought of losing this feeling.
He pulls back to break the contact and sits up. I blink blearily up at him. His face appears haloed in a beam of early morning sunlight dappling through the window. I thank God for sunlight because it allows me to see every blessed, beautiful inch of him without the need to rush.
“What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?” I ask.
“Nothin’.” He wraps an arm around my legs and pulls me flat along the bed. Then he spreads out alongside me, tucking my body into his.
“What are you doing?”
“Shhh.” He presses a finger to my lips. “I want to touch you. I wanna make you forget everything. I wanna make you feel better. Will you let me?”
My breath hitches in my chest and I can only nod. His finger traces my bottom lip, his eyes captivated by the movement. I’m trembling by the time his mouth comes back to mine. I can feel his smile against my lips. He has me right where he wants me and he damn well knows it.
His hand glides over the material of my bra underneath my hospital gown, so close to the aching weight of my breasts. I make a frustrated noise and he laughs, diverting his hand to the exposed skin of my knees. Even better.
The tips of his fingernails scrape along the skin of my thighs and at this point, I’ve virtually given up on ever breathing again. He makes one painstaking journey up to the top of my thigh, then stops and changes direction.
I grab on to his shoulder, discarding any rational thought, and press against him. “Please,” I whisper.
Our eyes lock and his hand presses against where I need him the most. I can feel the heat of him through the thin material and my eyes drift closed at the overwhelming sensation.
I feel him dip his head next to my ear and he says, “No, baby, I want to see your eyes.”
I bite my tongue and do as he says. He rewards me with the gentle play of his fingers, ever so soft, against me. And oh, God, the feeling is amplified a hundred times because it’s nowhere near as hard as I need it. No, instead, he traces me in small, languid circles until my hips are matching the back and forth movement of his hand.
My cheeks burn hot with shame and want. I shouldn’t be doing this. He slips his devilish fingers underneath the material of my panties and all good sense escapes me. My entire body bows up in response, muscles arched in a sweet ache of unleashed tension.
“You like that, Chloe?” His voice. God that voice. Each whisper sends a shockwave along my body, inciting the heat growing in my core as though it were a caress. He’ll devastate every one of my senses before this is over, I swear.
“Please,” I whisper.
“You want it?” he grunts.
I hold my breath in my chest like a captive trying to force myself over the peak. My hips roll against the soft play of his fingers and each flutter brings me ever closer to relief.
“Yes,” I hiss as he speeds up. “Yes, just like that.”
His fingers move lower and I let out a sobbing breath. Yes, yes, yes, I think to myself. His chuckle is a rumble in my ear.
Then, disaster strikes and three things happen all at once. First, he plunges two fingers deep inside of me, and I come. Exquisitely. Deliciously. Fantastically hard. Then, the door to his hospital room bursts open.
Gabriel
I’ve not been a man prone to violence in my personal life. Temper, maybe. Do I have a tendency to be a jerk at times? Sure, if the situation warrants it. But never in my life have I wanted to throttle someone quite as much as I do in this moment.
The rapturous expression on Chloe’s face, the one that I was admiring mere moments before, is replaced by panic and I instinctively move to cover her half-exposed body with my own. I, regretfully, free my hand to grab the blankets and pull them over us. Beneath me, she’s trembling and I let loose a string of expletives.
“Shit,” Tyler says and then covers his twinkling eyes, the bastard. “Didn’t think you’d
have company.”
I’m going to kill him. I’ll be sad to see him go, but it must be done.
“Bit busy here, Ty,” I bite out.
Tyler, damn him to hell, grins and says, “I’ll say.”
Maybe I’ll enjoy killing him. “Get your ass out of here before I throw you out, man.”
With his hands still covering his eyes he says, “Nice to meet you, Ms. McKinney.”
Her face a gorgeous color of red, Chloe peers out from behind the blanket and says, “Nice to meet you, too.”
“My name’s Tyler. The idiot you’re with is a good friend of mine. I was going to find out which hotel room you were in, but this saves me the trouble.”
“Ty!” I shout. “Wrap it up.”
“Just wanted to tell you thanks for taking care of our guy,” he says.
Chloe smiles even though he can’t see her. “You’re welcome,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you, officially.”
“Why don’t you have Gabe bring you over next weekend? My wife and I are going to grill out.” Before she can respond, Tyler gropes for the handle of the door. “I won’t take no for an answer now,” he says. “So I expect to see you on Saturday. You two have fun.”
He makes a quick escape before I can untangle myself from Chloe’s arms and the grasping tangle of the monitor wires.
She puts a hand on my shoulder and I still. “It’s okay,” she says softly.
I fight my way out of the wires until I can see her face. “Are you sure? I never should have—I mean I should have waited.”
Her hand moves up my cheek. “No, it’s okay. It was pretty damn good actually.”
Her shy confession makes me want to do it all over again. “Really?” I ask, my voice husky.
“Really.”
I kiss her again, because I can. When it ends, she rests her head on my chest and draws patterns on my stomach. “When do you have to go home?” I almost don’t want to know the answer, but I figure I’d better rip off the band aid.
She shrugs. “I’m not sure. My boss, her name’s Sienna, we’ve been good friends for a long time. Anyway, she feels like shit for making me get on that ferry so I think it’s safe to assume I’ll have as much vacation time as I want for the foreseeable future.”
“This Sienna sounds like a great friend.”
“She is. Anyway, why’d you want to know?” she teases. “Want me out of here?”
“Definitely not.” I hesitate, then barrel through. “I’m asking ‘cause I was going to see if you wanted to come stay at my place. I mean until you have to go back.”
We knock heads when she arches backward to look at me. “Are you sure?” she asks. “What about Emily? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“She’s with her mom. They both hadn’t slept in a couple days and Emily was getting a little cranky. She’s so young, I didn’t want to scare her being at the hospital so much. They’re staying at her mom’s house for a couple days and then Em’s gonna come spend the week with me when things calm down. I don’t want you to feel obligated—”
“Yes,” she says.
“Yeah?”
Laughter spills from her lips. “I said yes. When do we get out of here?”
“If they don’t let me out by this afternoon, we’ll break out.”
“Bonnie and Clyde style,” she jokes, then she grows serious. “Have you heard anything about the others? I mean the other hostages. The captain.”
I sigh and pull her closer against me like I can shield her from everything. The fact that I even want to does not bode well for my dedicated bachelorhood, but I set that aside.
“There were some injuries, a couple serious, but everyone is expected to recover. They haven’t found the captain yet.” I swallow thickly. “They’ve sent out Search & Rescue, but no luck yet.”
“I’m so sorry, Gabe,” she says.
“Me, too.”
“It’s not your fault though, you know that, right?” When I don’t answer, she looks up at me. “Right?” she insists.
I sigh. “Intellectually, yes, I know that, but emotionally, I feel every single death like a chain around my neck. On some level, if I had saved her, none of this would have happened.”
“Oh, honey,” she whispers and then kisses my throat. “You can’t control everything.”
“Chloe, I’m a man. I have to think that I can or I’ll self-destruct.” I joke, but a part of me is serious.
“You’re not God, it’s not like you can influence other people’s decisions or control the weather.”
Not wanting to talk about it anymore, I crowd her on the small bed. “Sure about that?” I caress her arm with the pads of my fingers. “Pretty sure I can influence you.”
She slaps my hand away. “Don’t try and change the subject.”
Irritation makes my response curt. “Look, I’m into you, but I don’t want to talk about this right now. It’ll work itself out eventually. Can’t we go back to how it was before we brought that shit up?”
The hurt on her face makes my gut ache, but I don’t take it back. Her throat bobs with a swallow and she forces a smile. “Sure, you’re right. I shouldn’t press the issue. I’m sorry.”
My smile is tight. “Forget about it,” I say.
A tense silence descends until she breaks it by clearing her throat. “I think, uh, I’d better get back to my room before they send out a search party for me.” She eases herself off the bed, careful not to bump my injuries and straightens her hospital gown self-consciously. When she’s done, she glances up. “I’ll see you later?” she asks over her shoulder as she walks to the door and pauses.
I nod and she slips out the door.
Good job, Gabe.
Growling, I throw a pillow at the wall and cover my eyes with my arm. I hope I didn’t screw us up before we’d even really gotten started.
Chloe
Five o’clock rolls around and I sit on my bed watching the seconds tick by and cursing myself for my stupidity. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to him. I shouldn’t have made myself vulnerable like that.
Gabe’s been radio silent since I left his room this morning. If he doesn’t come in the next few minutes, I’ll get a hotel room for the night—at least until my parent’s drive in. I won’t feel safe at my house all alone. For the foreseeable future, I want to surround myself with people to combat the feeling I’m being watched.
Which is silly. I’ve been in a hospital surrounded by orderlies and nurses and doctors coming in and out of the room checking on my arm and running countless tests. Not including the barrage of journalists who try to sneak past the cops guarding the floor or the other survivors who’ve been coming by in a constant stream to give their thanks.
With all the attention, of course I feel like all eyes are on me. It’ll take a couple days for all of the attention to die down and for things to go back to normal. Then this itchy feeling will go away and I’ll be able to relax.
One minute left.
The doorknob wiggles and I glance up to find Gabe pushing his way through.
He pauses in the doorway, and I take the moment to study him. His firm jawline is set and his mouth is pressed into a line. His unreadable green eyes are on me and I feel them like a flash of heat.
“I’m sorry,” he says before I can even open my mouth. “I was a dick.”
“You weren’t,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“No, I know when I’m being a dick and I’m man enough to apologize for it. It’s a sensitive subject right now.”
“I know; I shouldn’t have pressed the issue. I still want to go with you, if you’re up for it.”
I barely finish the sentence when he’s pulling me up from the bed and whirling me around. I have the instinctual urge to flee, but he is like gravity and I don’t have the strength to resist his pull.
Nor do I have the strength to resist his kiss.
His lips slant across mine as he pins me against the wall with his rock hard body. My hands go up to grip
his nape because the mere taste of him is enough to knock me off my feet. I make an involuntary surprised sound against the potent press of his lips.
His hands slide down my neck to the curve of my arm, and then traverse the length of my back. He reaches the flare of my hips and his fingers flex against the material of my clothes, gripping my hip, pressing me against the thick length of his arousal.
I may be tall for a woman, but Gabe towers over me. His massive shoulders and arms surround me until I’m helpless against him. His lips play over mine, again and again, until he coaxes my mouth to open for him.
With that, he makes a growling sound deep in his throat and hitches my leg up and around his hip, causing the thin material of the borrowed dress Sienna gave me to spread until I’m bare against him. Then I’m overcome by the wet sound of our lips, the gasping breaths I’m able to take in between, and the little rumbles of satisfaction he makes in the back of his throat.
My hair tumbles from the sloppy bun I’d thrown it up in after my shower, and falls in a wet mass of tangles over my shoulders. It surrounds us in the soft scent of coconut and vanilla, and he breaks the kiss to press his face into the curve of my shoulder. He inhales there, nuzzling my skin with the sandpaper-scratch of his beard. It tickles every nerve ending I possess until I become one live wire from head to toe.
“I had to see you again,” he confesses, his voice a mere whisper against my neck. The confession washes away everything else until the only things left are me and him.
My arms twitch around his shoulders and I pull him closer, almost afraid that if I let go, he’ll evaporate and this will all have been a dream. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
He laughs, his hands running lines up and down my back, pressing into the muscles and soothing me into a stupor. “Don’t be sorry, it’s my fault.”
I make a sound and try to pull back, but he doesn’t let me.
He pulls me closer, hands still massaging my back and lulling me into complacency. “No, don’t pull away. I like how you feel against me.” He presses a kiss to my hair and I remember that he did the same thing when we were on the ferry. “I was perfectly content to go on living my life as I had been. And then you crashed in and changed all of my plans. What are you doing to me?” he whispers.
First to Fight Box Set: Books 1-5 Page 13