by L. L. Foster
But that thought was obliterated by the anxious way her slender fingers cuddled his length through the denim of his jeans. When her breath hitched he was so lost that he didn’t know if he’d ever find his way back.
Scooping one arm beneath her small derriere, Luther lifted her up and against him. Their mouths met, hungry, demanding, frenzied with pent-up need.
He moved them both into the house and kicked the door shut, then shoved Gaby against it to kiss her harder, deeper. Her long legs wrapped around his waist and she sank her fingertips into his shoulders.
Keeping his mouth on hers, he used one hand to shove her shirt up, to get to her small, firm breasts. She freed her mouth with a harsh groan.
Arching into him, she said, “Let’s get naked.”
Oh God, the things she did to him.
Luther fought for control. He wanted to make love to her gently, to show her how much she mattered to him, to show her all the pleasure to be had between them.
But she bit his chin, his jaw. “Naked, Luther. Now. Don’t make me fight with you.”
A reluctant smile worked through the lust. Yeah, Gaby would probably wrestle him to the ground if she didn’t get her way. “No problem.”
He loosened her left leg from around his hip and helped her to stand. Before she’d even gotten both feet on the ground, he pulled her shirt up to expose her naked breasts while she unfastened that damned sheath and let her knife drop to the floor with a clatter.
Using his foot, Luther kicked it to the side. Keeping his gaze glued to her now-taut nipples, he went to work on the snap at her waistband.
But Gaby was just as busy undressing him, and before he could do more than shove her jeans down her hips, she had his cock in her hands. Staring down at him, she licked her lips and groaned.
He lost whatever semblance of a rational, reasonable man he’d ever possessed. It had been too long, and there’d been far too much between them for him to hold back any longer.
Again locking her against the door, Luther put a foot to the bunched material of her jeans and stepped down, shoving them to her ankles. He used his knee to open her thighs as far apart as possible. It wasn’t much, given that she was practically hobbled, but he’d make do.
Gaby grabbed his ass and pulled him closer, saying in a low, thrumming growl, over and over again, “Yes.”
Raging need had such a stranglehold on Luther, he couldn’t see straight. Blind lust drove him as he cupped one hand under her bottom to lift her enough to align their bodies. With his other hand he guided himself to her, and found her hot, slippery wet, so damn ready.
“I’m sorry, babe.” Grasping her hips with both hands, he drove forward with a hard thrust that buried him completely and lifted her toes from the floor.
Going stiff, Gaby sucked in a sharp, startled breath that froze Luther—until she let the breath out in shuddering, purring pleasure. Against the restriction of her jeans, she brought her knees up to clasp around his hips and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Sinuous and sexy, she squirmed, trying to get more of him.
Her heavy-lidded gaze met his. Her eyes were smoky, intense, the shape more defined with her arousal.
Slowly, she stared down at his mouth and demanded, “Again.”
Luther gave up. He took her mouth even as he pulled out, only to hammer back into her again. Like a cat, she curled closer, hugging herself all around him.
Knowing he battered her but accepting that she loved it, that she was every bit as turned-on as he was, he found a hard, thrusting rhythm that soon had them both on the brink.
How could he have thought, even for a second, that Gaby would be any other way?
She went through life full-force, without constraint or modesty. She didn’t know half measures, had no grasp of social propriety.
For most of her life she’d been without friends, without understanding, without a single caring touch.
Luther vowed to show her the individual satisfaction of tenderness, and lovemaking.
Later.
For now, Gaby demanded a hard fuck, and that worked just fine for him.
“Hold on to me,” he told her through clenched teeth. He wanted to touch her breasts, and more. He wanted to learn every inch of her.
“Yeah, okay,” she agreed around panting breaths. She pressed her head back against the door and pushed her hips forward, matching his rhythm the best she could in their awkward positioning.
When Luther felt the near-painful grip that secured her hold on him, he took one hand from her backside and, using only his fingertips, teased over her stiffened nipples.
Her lips parted on a fractured moan.
Luther saw her through a haze of carnality and . . . much, much more. “You are so incredibly sexy, Gabrielle Cody.”
Maybe because, even now, she couldn’t accept a compliment, Gaby kissed him hard again, making it impossible for him to talk to her.
Luther didn’t mind.
He had the snug clasp of her body on his cock, her mouth sucking at his tongue, and her hands holding him like she’d never let him go. No other man had touched her like this.
No other man ever would.
And that thought pushed him so close to the edge that he was grateful when he felt Gaby’s climax erupting.
Tangling her fingers in his hair, arching her back, she moaned low and long. He bent his head and caught a nipple in his teeth—and she came.
Her reaction was so strong, she damn near toppled them both. Luther flattened one hand on the door behind her head and braced his legs apart to support them both. While his own release boiled up he watched her face, saw all the small nuances as her features shifted, sharpened, and finally softened again.
There was no other woman like Gaby.
And there’d be no other woman for him.
* * *
Secure in Luther’s embrace, Gaby rested her head on his sweaty shoulder and tried to assimilate everything that had just occurred. He was still a part of her, still inside her, but not so much now.
She felt the trembling in Luther’s arms, his legs, but she didn’t care.
He wouldn’t falter. Not Luther.
Not ever.
A tsunami of overwhelming euphoria had swept away all remnants of her arrant anxiety. The monstrous depravity of the world remained, but now, somehow, it didn’t cut so deeply into her peace of mind.
Opening her eyes just enough to see Luther’s jaw, Gaby whispered in extreme understatement, “Not bad, cop.”
He turned his head a little and pressed the most tender of kisses to her temple.
Just that, nothing more, but it nearly flattened Gaby.
Because she rested on him like a needy woman. Because she liked it so much.
Because she . . . loved it.
Her heart ached with tremendous trepidation. She wanted Luther to always kiss her like that, with so much unspoken meaning. Never before had she loved anything or anyone.
But that kiss . . .
It amped the euphoria right back up there. Not physically, but emotionally. Phenomenal bliss filled her near to bursting.
So unlike her and her normal state of mind.
It occurred to Gaby that she no longer knew herself. She wasn’t a woman who partook of physical pleasure with abandon.
She wasn’t a woman who allowed others to soothe her.
She didn’t even let others touch her.
With her insight into the evil that existed all around her, and her never-ending duty to extirpate it, she wasn’t a happy woman. Ever.
How could she be? Her understanding of societal monstrosities refuted any thoughts toward true happiness.
And yet, right now, peacefulness permeated her being.
Oh God, it was a scary thing to feel this level of happiness.
Fear got its ugly fangs in her. If she changed for Luther, who would she be? What would she be?
“Shh,” he said ever so softly. “Don’t go there, baby. Not yet. I need a few m
inutes to recoup before we get started on all that.”
All what? Eyes widening, heart pumping fast and hard, Gaby wondered if he’d somehow read her mind. Did he know her internal struggle, the demons that plagued her, that left her weak and ineffectual?
Tense with apprehension, she asked, “What are you talking about?”
He released an exaggerated, grievous sigh. “So there’s to be no respite, huh? You won’t even let me wallow in the languor a few minutes more?”
Having had no idea what the hell he meant, his nonsense grated on Gaby. The rush of irritation helped her to regain herself.
She went full force with familiar bitchiness. “Stop the bullshit, Luther.” She pushed at his shoulders. “And let me go.”
If anything, he snuggled her closer, cuddling her butt and breathing in as if smelling her, her skin and her hair. “Why would I want to do that?”
Lots of reasons presented themselves to Gaby’s beleaguered mind, but she said only, “I’m . . . wet.” She could feel a certain stickiness on her thighs that wasn’t altogether unpleasant as much as very unfamiliar.
“Yeah.” As if that pleased Luther, his voice deepened. He pressed his mouth to her shoulder in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. “Wet with you,” he whispered, “and wet with me.”
Why stickiness turned him on, Gaby didn’t know. “You’re being weird, Luther.”
He sighed again. “I can’t believe I forgot to cover up.”
“Cover up?”
“I didn’t use a condom, Gaby.” He leaned away from her and gave her a look rife with affection and sincere apology. “I took risks with you, and I’m sorry.”
She started to ask, “What risk?” when Luther’s gaze went to her arm. She followed his line of vision and saw that blood had seeped through the bandage and sleeve of her stolen sweatshirt.
Shit.
Tensing, he stepped back and obliterated their intimate connection. It was the oddest thing, as if losing him left a void in her heart as well as her body. Gaby wanted him back. All of him.
But she’d be fucked before she admitted that to him.
To her surprise, he didn’t say a word about her arm. Instead, he wrestled her shirt off over her head and looked at her upper body. She hadn’t realized that her tussle with the drug dealers had left behind a few bruises.
Luther, damn him, managed to locate each and every one.
Naked except for her jeans and panties around her ankles, Gaby crossed her arms beneath her breasts and leaned back on the door. No way would she let him discomfort her with his scrutiny.
Jaw tight, Luther hitched up his jeans and raised the zipper. He didn’t bother with the snap before going to one knee and clasping her calf. “Lift your foot out.”
Gaby huffed in confusion. “I can undress myself, you know.”
He looked up at her. “We just had sex, Gaby. Afford me a few gentlemanly courtesies, please.”
How dumb. “Fine. Whatever. For you.” Now she felt horribly inelegant. Not that there’d ever been a single elegant thing about her anyway. “But I don’t need that nonsense.”
“I do.” Luther went about relieving her of the rest of her clothes.
He even took his time folding her jeans and sweatshirt and hanging them over his arm. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Maybe for more sex? Gaby had no argument against that. “Okay. But first things first.” She locked the front door, even secured the deadbolt, and then retrieved her knife in the sheath. “You need better locks on your house.”
He didn’t argue. “I’ll get a security system.”
His quick compliance wrought a questioning glance, but he wore no real expression at all. “When?”
“I’ll make some calls tomorrow.” He gestured up the stairs. “Now let’s go.”
Confused by his complaisance, she started up the stairs. “I need a quick shower first.”
Closer than she’d realized, his breath touched her nape when he said, “I was thinking more about a bath.”
“A bath?” She stopped, and Luther bumped into her.
His hands went to her waist. “I don’t yet know how badly your arm is hurt, but given how you shrug off near death, I’m assuming the necessity for a bandage means it’s significant.”
“Not really.” To chase off the lethargy, Gaby took the rest of the stairs two at a time. At the top step, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Got grazed by a bullet, that’s all.”
She went on down the hall and into the bathroom before she realized Luther hadn’t followed. Wondering what kept him, she started back out just as he came stomping in, and they nearly collided.
Gripping her shoulders in an iron hold, Luther took deep breaths that flared his nostrils and brought a flush to his face.
Rolling her eyes, Gaby pulled free of him and began unwrapping the bandage. “Get a grip, Luther, it’s not all that. And I’m a quick healer, if you remember. In a few days it’ll be fine.”
He didn’t look appeased, but Gaby paid no mind to his fast-shifting mood. “In fact, I plan to get a tattoo around it to hide any scar that might be left behind. I was told that normally a person has to wait at least a year for that, but I’ll convince the tattoo artist otherwise, no problem there.”
He smashed a finger to her mouth.
Not a good thing to do to a person like her. Gaby no sooner had that thought than she was struck with the realization that there were no other people like her.
She swatted Luther’s hand away with an overdose of irritation. “Don’t push it, cop.”
Still visibly struggling, he gave a stiff nod. “But do not start calling me that again. Use my name, damn it.” He turned and started the bathwater.
Gaby crossed her arms and stared at the gorgeous muscles in his back. “I prefer a shower.”
In a carefully moderated tone, he asked, “Have you ever had a nice long bath?”
“Well . . . ” She looked at the steam rising from the water as it filled the tub. The thought of soaking in that heat, relaxing, made her muscles go weak. “Not really, no.”
“Why?”
Most times, cautious of being caught off guard, she rushed through even her showers. “Showers are quicker.”
“You’re telling me you don’t have enough free time to indulge in a bath?”
“It’s not about having free time. It’s about being preoccupied.” When he still didn’t understand, she made a face. “I can fight naked if I have to, but it wouldn’t be my first preference.”
He paused, turned to stare at her, and then: “What?”
“Lounging around in a tub is a good way to be taken unawares.”
He seemed to droop before shoring up his determination again. “You’re safe enough here.”
“Yeah, right.” Her tone reeked of disdain. “No one is truly safe anywhere.”
“Right.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess that explains the steel door and all the locks where you used to live, huh?”
Where she used to live—because he thought she had completely moved in here. Gaby relented . . . a little. “I suppose that once the water is off, we’ll be able to hear if anyone breaks in.” She lifted her chin. “I have superior hearing, you know.”
“You have superior everything.”
He said that with visual attention to her too thin, too lanky body.
She shook her head. “You’re deranged.”
“Only with you.” Luther opened his jeans and stepped out of them. He folded them and placed them on top of her clothes. “I’ll join you in the tub, if that’s okay.”
They’d both be naked in there? Together? Gaby made up her mind. “A bath it is.”
Chapter 7
Luther swallowed all his demands for details until after he’d gotten Gaby settled in the steaming water in front of him. He positioned her with her back to his chest, her injured arm resting on the side of the tub, out of the water.
Though she hadn’t elaborated, just knowing that a bullet had ca
used the blood-crusted, burned furrow filled him with rage. That bullet had no doubt been meant to hit something more vital. Only Gaby’s quick reflexes had saved her from more serious injury—or even death.
And Gaby treated it as a trivial nuisance.
Any other woman, and most of the men he knew, would be popping pain pills and pampering that gruesome injury.
But not Gaby. Hell, she barely acknowledged it.
Lifting her wrist so he could examine the wound more closely brought a wave of guilt over Luther. His throat tightened. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She snorted as if he lacked the ability to do so, then thought to ask, “When?”
All around the area where the bullet had abraded her, the swollen flesh felt hot to the touch. “When we were”—he started to say making love, but to keep from alarming her anew, he changed it to—“having sex.”
“God, no.” She tilted the back of her head to his chest and looked at him upside down. “That was great.”
Even in the face of his staggering worry, Luther gave a small smile. Knowing he had satisfied Gaby went a long way toward keeping him on course with his plans.
He kissed her wrist. “That was what we call a quickie.” He fetched a washcloth and the soap. “Sit up a minute.”
“Why?”
Gaby never gave over easily. Life with her—which he was aiming for—would be one struggle after another. “I want to take care of you.”
Half turning to face him, she gave him a speculative glance. “Like . . . sexually again, you mean?”
She looked so hopeful that he almost relented. “No, I meant that I want to wash you. Then I want to bandage your arm again.”
Her scowl showed what she thought of that plan. “I’m able to wash myself.”
“Trust me, Gaby.” He smoothed aside her wet hair and, using the sudsy washcloth, started on her nape. It took a few minutes, and he was working the cloth halfway down her spine before she relaxed and let her head drop forward.
“That is . . . nice.”
He wanted to care for her always. And somehow, he would. After using the cloth to massage her back and shoulders, he put it aside and used both hands to rinse her. “Get on your knees and turn to face me.”