Forever Found

by Allyson Charles

  Sure, focus on the small details. “No.” She snapped another page over, her gaze scanning the text without reading it.

  He paused in front of a Roman amphora displayed on a pedestal base, then moved on to the floor-to-ceiling bookcase that covered the far wall. “Is he growling a lot? Making a sound like a vacuum?” With the tip of one finger, he pulled a book from its neat row, turned his head sideways to read the spine, and pushed it back in.

  “His name has nothing to do with a vacuum.”

  He bent to look at another shelf. “Then why… Oh my God.” He pulled out a paperback volume. “Every book in here is science fiction or fantasy.” He showed her the cover of her well-loved copy of The Mysterious Island as if it was proof of a crime. “Asimov, Bradbury, Verne, Burroughs, Lovecraft, Tolkien.”

  “Hey.” She pointed a finger. “Not a word against Tolkien. That man was a god among authors.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a nerd.”

  Marla lifted her chin. “What of it? A girl can’t like Gucci and Gaiman?”

  “Of course, people can.” Hoov struggled in Gabe’s arms, and he set him down on the dog bed. He waved his hand up and down, indicating her body. “But you are…you can’t…”

  Marla tapped her thumb on her knee. “Yes?”

  “You’re just not what I expected.”

  That was the sweetest thing he’d ever said to her. She ordered her heart not to go all gooey. Chances were good he’d ruin the moment the next moment he opened his mouth.

  They stared at each other for a full minute.

  Gabe sighed. He shrugged out of his windbreaker and laid it over the back of a chaise lounge. “So why did you name him Hoover?”

  Marla fought her smile. Whatever silent battle had just occurred, she had a feeling that she’d come out on top. Or Gabe had given up. What he’d given up—his preconceived notions of her, his dislike?—she wasn’t sure. But she’d take it as a win.

  “I named him after Herbert Hoover,” she said. “By most accounts he was a poor president, but was one of the most noted humanitarians of the twentieth century. During World War I he created a private organization that fed up to ten and a half million people a day in Belgium and Eastern Europe. He was an international hero. It’s a noble name.” She tossed the magazine on the end table next to her. “Now, I want to ask you a question. Why don’t you like me wearing shorts?” She had an inkling of an idea. But she wanted confirmation.

  “I don’t want you catching cold.”

  Marla shook her head sadly. Really, if he was going to go with that pathetic excuse…

  “Fine,” he bit out. “Your legs go on for miles and are sexy as hell. Seeing them all the time is distracting.” He gripped his hips, his knuckles going white. “When I see your legs, I think of all the things I want to do to you. All the positions those long legs could bend into, what they could wrap around. Happy now? Is that what you want to hear?”

  Her breath stalled in her lungs. Warmth spread through her belly, and lower. That was exactly what she’d wanted, she just hadn’t expected him to cave so quickly. Uncrossing those legs, she stood up straight.

  She wasn’t beautiful, she knew that. Her features weren’t quite symmetrical enough, her lips thinner than what the beauty magazines called for. But men appreciated her. She kept fit, dressed in a manner to flatter, and was smart with her makeup. So, a man telling her he found her attractive wasn’t unfamiliar.

  But hearing it from this man was. This man whose admiration she craved. Maybe it was petty, but the fact that the man who’d rejected her now admitted he lusted after her felt damn good.

  But… “When you first got here you said you came to apologize. Apologize for what?”

  “Last night.” He scraped his palm across his jaw. “It’s been pointed out to me that you might have misinterpreted what I said.” He stepped close. The skin under his right eye was mottled with navy and violet. Even bruised and banged up, he still looked good. “I didn’t mean you were only good at parties and clothes.” He brushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder and let his hand linger. “I was worried about you getting hurt. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

  Her shoulder tingled. His thumb crossed over the hem of her shirt and touched the skin at the base of her neck. He brushed his thumb back and forth, and a languid shiver danced down her spine. She licked her bottom lip. “How was I to know that?” she asked softly. “Based on all previous experience—”

  “It was a safe bet. I know, I can be a jerk.” He tightened his fingers on her shoulder and glanced away. “But I’m not always trying to be. Sometimes things just come out the wrong way.” He glanced back at her, his eyes locking with hers. “And sometimes I’m an idiot.”

  Running the tips of his fingers over her shoulder, he traced them down her spine. The formfitting white tee she wore was a flimsy barrier, and she felt the heat from each pad of his fingertips.

  She shuddered and arched closer. The tips of her breasts ached. She was mere inches from his chest. One small step, and she could press against his muscles. “What are you saying?” she whispered.

  “I’m saying”—Gabe took that last step, joined their bodies together—“that I was too hasty when you came to me with your proposal. It’s something we both obviously want, so why deny ourselves?”

  A flash of memory made her chest burn. “You don’t think I’m trying to buy you?”

  Lifting his right hand, he traced the outline of her lips with his index finger. He tugged her bottom lip down. “No. We’re as different as night and day. Come from two different worlds. But your heart is in the right place. I see that now.”

  It wasn’t the full-throated affirmation of her worth that she longed for, but it was enough. For now. She laced her fingers behind his neck, her arms floating up as light as feathers. “I’m glad to see you’ve learned to have an appreciation of my heart,” she said, her voice husky. “Any other parts of my body you want to study?”

  His smile was dark. Dirty. And altogether irresistible. But he didn’t give her enough time to enjoy it before he covered her lips with his own.

  Her eyes sank closed, and she let her mind go blank. There was a time to analyze and a time to feel, and this was definitely the latter. His kiss wasn’t the hard, aggressive crush she’d been expecting. More finesse than brute force. He explored, tasted, then eased back until their lips made the barest whisper of contact. He investigated each contour, nibbled on the edges, before finally, slowly, sliding his tongue inside.

  A shiver started at the base of her skull and zigzagged down her back. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she melted into him. Gabe gripped the nape of her neck with one hand, held her hip with the other, and dipped her backwards, throwing her off balance, physically and mentally.

  She broke away to suck down air and blinked up at him. “You’re good at this.”

  He chased her mouth, as though even the smallest separation was unallowable. “You have no idea.”

  Maddie whined and pawed Marla’s leg. Marla rubbed her head. “I think we have a chaperone who disapproves.”

  He cradled her head with both hands. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked, his tone serious.

  She shook her head slowly, disbelievingly. A man who respected how much a dog’s approval meant to her owner? If Maddie had been any other dog, Marla might have been concerned over her dislike of Gabe. But the poodle would have tried to warn her off of any man. She liked the team of Marla and Maddie. Anyone else was a third wheel.

  Hoover put his front paws on Maddie’s shoulders, wanting in on whatever was going on.

  “Don’t leave.” She ran her hands from his shoulders down his arms to his hands. She tugged them from her head and laced their fingers together. “Let’s just take this away from the peanut gallery.” Walking backwards, she tugged him after her until she hit the steps to the second
level. Then she waggled her eyebrows, spun, and raced up to her bedroom.

  He caught her just inside the door, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back to his front. He kicked the door shut with his heel. “After chasing after me, don’t think you can run away now.”

  She laughed and reached behind her to grasp his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  So fast it made her dizzy, he spun her around and pressed her against the wall. He held her hands above her head. Their levity burned away faster than gasoline in a race car. Heated knowledge raced between their gazes.

  This was going to happen. Sex with Gabe Moretti.

  Marla had asked for this, dreamed of it in her lonely moments at night, and now it was standing right in front of her. The anticipation twisted her stomach and stole her breath. Her body was primed. A tiny pinprick in her heart tried to ruin the moment, but she ignored the warning. So what if this was only a fling? Life was made up of a million moments. They didn’t all have to bear significance. Sex with Gabe would be like riding a roller coaster—exhilarating, fun, hopefully pleasurable. And after the ride, she’d walk away with a smile on her face.

  Nothing wrong with that. Right?

  Gabe dug his fingers under the hem of her shorts. He gripped the back of one thigh and pulled her leg around his waist. Lowering his head, he sucked the lobe of her ear into his hot mouth.

  Oh my. No, there was absolutely nothing wrong with this. Using his shoulders as leverage, she pulled herself up and wrapped her other leg around his waist. She chased his mouth, greedy for his kiss. The wall disappeared behind her. Gabe placed his hands under her butt, supporting her, for the three long strides he took to her canopy bed. He brought them down to her comforter and covered her body with his own.

  She sank into the soft cotton duvet. Everything beneath her was soft. Everything above… She ran her hands down his chest and along his arms. Oh, so deliciously hard.

  Gabe hooked his thumbs under the bottom of her shirt and whipped it over her head. He cupped her breast. “Damn. So damn pretty.”

  She was glad he thought so. She used to wish she had a little more going on up top. But she liked the fact that she could walk around her house without a bra. It saved time. Got her that much closer to Gabe that much faster.

  He tugged off his T-shirt. His shoulders were tan and broad, with a sprinkling of freckles dusting the tops. Dark hair curled across his pecs. She ran her fingertips from his chest, down his stomach, and along the trail leading into his jeans. Wow. She sucked on her bottom lip. Men weren’t supposed to look this good. It could give a girl a complex. She skimmed her palms up his sides, felt the subtle ridges of his ribs. It would take her hours to explore this man properly.

  Gabe had other ideas for time management. He tossed her into the center of the bed and crawled between her legs.

  “Hey, I wasn’t done—” Gabe interrupted her complaint by slipping his tongue inside her mouth. He plunged it slowly, rolled it against hers, making the kiss last until she was light-headed and breathless. He pulled back and nipped at her jaw.

  She stared at the platinum-striped chiffon canopy while Gabe worked his way down her neck. “Am I to understand,” she said and sucked in a breath when he bit down on her clavicle, “that…that you’re not a fan of conversation in bed?”

  “Darling, you can talk all you want.” He plumped one breast with his hand and brushed his lips over the tip. “I have better things to occupy my mouth with.” Latching on, he drew deep, the tug arrowing from her nipple to her core.

  Marla gripped the duvet and whimpered. This one time, she’d allow that Gabe was right. Talking was overrated.

  Gabe pressed up on one arm and ran his free hand from her knee to her hip. His hungry gaze followed the path he made, and gooseflesh rose in its wake. He tangled his fingers in the red bow tying her shorts together and slid one end of the ribbon slowly through its knot. As he freed the other end, the whisper of ribbon over the satin material of her shorts tickled her eardrums. He unwrapped her like a present, then made quick work of the button and zipper.

  Marla lifted her hips, helping him pull the shorts down her legs until she lay before him in only a pair of black lace panties. The appreciation on Gabe’s face as he looked his fill made her never want to clothe herself in front of him again. That look made her feel powerful. Wanted. She breathed deeply and grinned when Gabe’s gaze lasered in on her rising breasts.

  She tore at the top button of his jeans, her fingers fumbling in her eagerness. The remaining buttons in his fly pulled open easily. Grabbing the waistbands of both his jeans and boxers, she shoved the obstructions down his hips.

  Gabe reached into his pocket, pulled out a wallet, and tugged free a condom. He tossed the wallet to the side and tore open the plastic wrapper.

  “You’re like a Boy Scout. Always prepared.”

  His eyes crinkled, but he didn’t respond as he sheathed himself. He settled on top of her and took her mouth, the hairs on his chest scratching over sensitized skin, driving her mad. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he settled into just the right spot.

  “Oh God, I want you so badly.” Marla sucked his earlobe into her mouth, and the muscles of his back tensed under her hands.

  He pushed the gusset of her panties to the side. He teased her entrance, circling around the opening before dipping his finger into her channel. He pulled out and brushed those fingers across her clit. Her body jolted from the touch.

  A shadow from the Roman shades on her windows cut across his face, hiding his expression. She cupped his jaw as he pushed inside her body. Her long-ignored nerve endings screamed in delight at the stretch. He bottomed out, then pulled back with the same languid pace. She clutched around his length, her body not wanting him to go. Damn, he felt good. Hot and hard and thick. It had been way too long since she’d had a man.

  He took his time, assessed her reactions. He found the spot on the ridge of her ear that made her moan. Learned that she preferred the scrape of his teeth on her flesh over the soft press of his lips. And when her breath stuttered, stalled, Gabe rose up onto his knees and drove into her sweet spot, taking her over the edge.

  Her heart galloped in her chest, feeling as though it might burst. She watched him as she came down from her high. In this position, his face was in full sun. Small lines etched the corners of his eyes and lips as he strained toward his own release. Small wrinkles that she knew he’d never Botox out. That he probably never even gave a passing thought to when he washed his face in the morning. But they were the marks of a man who worked hard. Who worried over the bad things in the world that he couldn’t change, and busted his ass to fix those that he could. It was a face more mature than his thirty-odd years. It was a face with character.

  Dropping his chin to his chest, Gabe planted himself deep and released into the condom. He groaned and dug his fingers into the skin above her knees. His body shuddered once, twice, and then went still.

  He flopped onto his back next to her, staring at the canopy, his chest heaving.

  Marla’s mouth went bone dry and she swallowed. It had been good. Gabe was thorough, she’d give him that. And generous to boot, making sure she came first. Everything an approaching-forty-but-still-wanting-to-feel-young person could wish for. But something was missing from her post-coital glow.

  “Thanks.” Gabe sat up, removed the condom, and tied a knot. Scooting off the bed, he hiked his pants back up his hips and strode into the bathroom.

  Contentment. That was what was missing. Gabe had satisfied her body, but other parts of her were left wanting.

  The sink ran, turned off, and Gabe came back in, his eyes scanning the floor. He found his shirt and pulled it on.

  Rolling off the bed to her feet, she resisted the urge to use her duvet as a cover-up. “Thanks? That’s all you have to say?” She wasn’t expecting an ode to her sexy-time skills, but a
polysyllabic phrase would have been nice.

  “Thanks a lot? You were great.”

  Marla searched for her shorts and top, tugging them on over bare skin. “Wow, thanks for the compliment. I guess don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”

  Gabe cocked his head. “Are you upset about something?”

  Marla ground her teeth together. Of course she was upset. Stalking past him into her bathroom, she plucked her toothbrush from the cut-crystal tumbler it rested in and filled the glass with cold water. She returned to her bedroom and took a sip, staring at Gabe over the rim.

  She was upset, but she shouldn’t be. It wasn’t up to Gabe to emotionally satisfy her. That onus was on her. She’d asked him for a fling and he’d provided. In a superior manner. She had no call to give him any attitude.

  She drained the glass. “I’m fine. Do you want anything to drink before you go?”

  He planted his feet wide and cocked his head. “No.”

  “Well, I want some juice.” She circled around him, giving him a wide berth as she stalked to the door. “You’re a better workout than my Pilates class.” She attempted a smile as she hurried out of her bedroom.

  Maddie stood sentinel at the bottom of the staircase, her toffee eyes looking reproachful as Marla hopped down the steps, with Gabe a couple feet behind her. Hoover lay curled in a ball by her side. The little puffs of air from his snores ruffled the hair on Maddie’s leg.

  “Thanks for waiting up, Mom.” Shaking her head, Marla rubbed Mad’s back. She straightened and sauntered to the kitchen. “Sure I can’t get you anything?” she called back over her shoulder.

  Gabe followed her in, Hoover in his arms. “This is quite the odd couple of dogs you have. Beauty and the beast. You’re going to get comments.”

  Marla placed her glass down and covered Hoover’s ears. She kissed him on his misshapen snout. “Hush. You’ll hurt his feelings.”

  “He’s a dog. He doesn’t understand what I said.”

  “You don’t think I’ll be a good owner for him? Only fancy purebreds for this socialite?” She buried her head in the refrigerator, letting the chilled air cool her hot face.