He groaned. “Minx. I never stood a chance of resisting you, did I?”
She lifted one shoulder. His rejection had felt pretty intractable at the time. But she pushed the memory away. Rolling to her side, she found his wallet under her thigh. “Move up to the middle.” She flipped his wallet open and pulled out the condom tucked inside. She tore the package open and tossed the wallet in the direction of his pants.
Gabe reached for her, but she playfully slapped his hands away. “Not this time. This time, I get pole position. Besides, you’re hurt.” She gently kissed the bruise on his side. “You just relax and let me do all the work.”
He held his hands up, palms out. “By all means.” Linking his fingers together, he put his hands on the pillow behind his head. His biceps bunched, and Marla licked her bottom lip. “Have your way with me,” he said.
Oh, she would. She eased the condom down his length. She took her time, licking his hot flesh and gently blowing on it before covering him with the rubber. His thigh muscles were hard as rocks by the time she’d finished the job.
“I changed my mind. You’re taking too long.”
Marla smiled and straddled his hips. “This is not the time for Mr. Grumpypants.” She guided him to her channel and lowered herself down. They moaned together. Placing her hands on his chest, she slowly rode him. “You should be feeling very, very happy right about now.”
He dug his fingers into her hips. “So damn happy.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Her breath juddered in her chest. He filled her so exquisitely. She sped up her motions, taking everything she could get. Nothing in life felt better than Gabe between her legs.
He dug his fingers into her thighs. The muscles in his neck went taut.
Marla stilled. “Am I hurting you?” She checked her position, but her knee wasn’t hitting his bruise.
“The only thing that hurts is when you stop.” He skimmed his hands up her legs and hips, spanned her waist. He eased her up, then thrust as he tugged her back down.
A tingling heat teased her core. “But your bruises. Maybe we should take it easy.” She said that, but her hips moved of their own volition, trying to build friction.
“I can take whatever you can dish out.” He slid a hand down her belly and circled her clit with his thumb. “Don’t go easy on me now.”
She rocked into his caress. Her skin flushed and a bead of sweat rolled down her spine. Gabe handled her body like a race car, knowing just when to use finesse and when to drive hard for the finish line. Her sheath clutched at his length, her need building.
She wanted this fling to go on forever. And in order to keep Gabe interested, she had to keep it interesting. Cowgirl was all well and good, but reverse cowgirl? That was where it was at. “You talk big,” she told him. She bent over and licked the base of his throat. He tasted of salt and soap and man. “But I don’t know if you can handle what I serve.”
“Try me.”
She sat down fully and stirred her hips. Placing her hands behind her on his thighs, she rocked off her knees and extended her legs forward. With a little eyebrow waggle, she kicked her right leg up to make the spin—and clocked him in the face with her heel. He yelped.
“Oh shit!” She scrabbled like a crab, sliding sideways off of him.
“Gah!” Grabbing her waist, he gently lifted her off his pelvis. “Jesus, you can break a man that way.”
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
He tumbled her to her back, rolling on top of her with a wince. He gritted his teeth, tugged on the back of her knee, and sank back inside her.
She wrapped her legs around him even as she frowned. “Really? I just kicked you in the head after you’ve already been beaten up today. I think we should stop before something worse happens.” She cupped his face, brushing her thumb over the mark reddening his jaw.
He bit out a chuckle through clenched teeth. “Darling, there is no way in hell we’re stopping now. My face is not what’s feeling pain.” He surged forward, and her body inched up the bed.
His length dragged against just the right spot. Sparks danced, and she bit her lip. “Oh God. So good.” Raising her arms, she pressed her palms flat against the headboard. His next thrust shook the heavy bed.
No. No stopping. It was just a kick to the face. Gabe was good.
He feathered his fingers over her collarbone and down to her breast. She arched into his touch. So, so good.
“Let me see those eyes.” His voice was crushed gravel. “I want to see what color they are when you come.”
She forced them open. His face was inches away. Tension etched across all his muscles. His golden-brown eyes were liquid heat, and she melted beneath his gaze. Gabe was always intense. Fiery. But the look in his eyes now…
No. No reading anything but lust in there. And lust was enough. Her skin felt scorched, hypersensitive. His hip scraping against her inner thigh was almost as delicious as his sex stroking across her nerve endings. Almost.
He bottomed out, and she stopped breathing. “Please,” she rasped. Her muscles clenched. Need consumed her. “Please.”
“You got it.” With one hand at the nape of her neck, he held her steady for his driving thrusts. He trailed his other hand down between their bodies and stroked her clit.
If his body wasn’t pressing into hers, she would have flown off the bed. “Gabe!” It didn’t take long. Three circles with his thumb and she was gone. Shudders wracked her body, the pulses starting at her core and rippling outwards. Her toes curled, and she was finally able to suck in a breath.
“Beautiful green,” Gabe murmured, staring down at her. He brushed his lips against hers, featherlight, before dropping his head to her shoulder and chasing his own release.
Marla held him as his body went stiff. She felt as much as heard his muffled groan as he came. Weaving her fingers into his hair, she gently scratched the back of his head as his muscles went soft and he sagged into her.
Perfection. That’s what this moment was. When they were both wrung out from pleasure. When Gabe wasn’t screwing things up by opening his mouth. When she was too mindless to give a thought to any unrealistic expectations that might be brewing in her head.
Closing her eyes, she sighed and enjoyed the moment.
* * * *
Gabe left Marla eating pizza in bed and stumbled into the bathroom. The endorphins from the killer sex were wearing off, and he was starting to feel every ache in his body. He’d barely felt Marla’s kick to the head in the moment. Now he gingerly shifted his jaw back and forth. Sore, but no real damage.
“I’m going to go get ice,” Marla called from the bedroom, her words mumbled around her slice.
Gabe stared at his reflection in the mirror. Yellowing eye, scraped cheek, bruised abdomen, reddening jaw. He didn’t think a bag of ice was going to help.
He took care of business and washed his hands. Her countertop was littered with small tubs, jars, and bottles. A gold perfume bottle caught his eye. He picked it up and pulled off the top that was shaped like a crown. He sniffed at the tiny hole. Flowery. He sniffed again. Then…woodsy. Like cutting into a sweet-smelling tree.
Parts of him far south twitched with interest. Marla wore a lot of scents—fruity, musky, spicy. But this was the one he thought of when she was in his mind. The one she’d been wearing the night they first met at a Forever Friends fundraiser.
He set it down and knocked over a small brown dropper-bottle. It rolled off the counter and landed on a fluffy pink rug. Christ, how could a woman have so many ointments or lotions or whatever the hell else was in all those containers? Bending over, he swiped it off the floor. The label consisted of elegant swirls of black and gold. Probably real gold, knowing Marla. But, hell, she had the money. Why not spend it on what she wanted? It wasn’t like she wasn’t generous to others.
He started to put it b
ack on the counter, squinted, and brought the bottle up to his face. Use daily to reduce the appearance of dark circles. He looked at his patchwork face and body in the mirror, looked at the bottle, then eased his gaze to the bathroom door. Empty.
Unscrewing the cap, he pulled it off, revealing a delicate glass dropper. He squeezed a small bead of oil onto his finger and gently massaged it under his bruised eye. Cocking his head, he stared at his reflection. Still discolored. He glided a finger over the mark. But damn, did his skin feel smooth. He squeezed another drop onto his finger and rubbed it into his jaw.
“What are you doing?”
“Jesus!” Gabe jumped and clutched his aching side. He jammed the cap back on the bottle and shoved it in with the rest of the clutter on the counter. “Nothing. You startled me. Nothing.”
“You said nothing twice.” She tapped her finger to her lips. “That means something.”
“I knocked your bottle over. Just putting it back,” he said. Marla had put on an ankle-length silk robe, and Gabe was still buck-naked. He shifted awkwardly. “That for me?” He pointed to the baggie in her hand.
She tossed him the bag and it smacked into his chest before he could grab it. “My ice machine isn’t working. Steak is all I have.” She sauntered over to her counter and screwed the cap securely back into the little bottle. “I didn’t take you for a serum man.”
His shoulder blades drew together. “I don’t even know what that means. Like I said, I was just putting it back in place.”
Marla slid between him and the sink, the material of her robe caressing a very sensitive bit of skin. He hissed in a breath. “Thanks for tidying up.” She ran a finger across his cheek, the corners of her lips twitching. “I’m sure your face was the only place you could think to put the spilled serum.”
The tips of his ears went hot. He placed his hands on the counter, trapping her hips between his forearms. “Fine, you caught me. I thought it might get rid of my bruise. FYI, it doesn’t.”
“I could have told you that.” She angled her head and nipped at his Adam’s apple. “But if you want to try some of my makeup to cover it, feel free.”
“Very funny.” His voice was laced with the same irritation it usually showed, but this time he wasn’t feeling it. Somewhere along the way her sass had become sexy. He reached for the belt around her waist. “At least that crap didn’t smell fruity, or flowery, or whatever.”
She shrugged out of the robe and it slithered to a heap at her feet. “No, but my body wash does. Peach Champagne. I’ll bet I can get you to lather up in it so you’ll smell like my very own bellini.” She reached down and grabbed him, the pressure firm, her hand hot.
Sweet mother of God. His aches faded away. He could have been doing this with Marla for months if he hadn’t been such a jackass. He pushed her hair off one shoulder, watching in fascination as the waterfall of color cascaded down her back. That hair. Her body wash. His very own Georgia peach to devour.
He let her lead him into a walk-in shower large enough for a basketball team. She turned on one of the showerheads and squeezed some goop into a purple loofah. She rubbed it into his chest in circles, creating an endless amount of lather.
Lust warred with relaxation, and the skin at the base of his spine prickled. This, he could get used to. He didn’t care what he came out smelling like.
Water droplets beaded on her breasts, pooling together to drip from her nipple. With a mischievous grin that could only mean trouble, she pulled a small wooden stool from the corner of the shower next to him.
His pulse spiked. Whatever she had in mind, it was best to nix it now. His body couldn’t take another beating. He grabbed her around the waist and tucked her against the far wall, away from the stool. “I’m all for a little lather, rinse, repeat action. But this time”—he bent and angled his elbows under her knees, scooping her up— “I’ll handle the acrobatics.”
Chapter Eleven
Gabe hung up the phone and tossed it on his desk. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. He gazed at his small home office without really seeing it.
He’d been at this for days and had gotten nowhere. Marla had been emphatic about the make and model of the car she’d seen speeding off from the warehouse. Since he had nothing else to go on, he’d decided to work under the assumption that she was right. He’d called every repair shop in the tri-city area, claiming he’d backed into a Toyota Camry in a parking lot and had forgotten to leave a note. He’d thought that acting like a man trying to redeem himself after a mistake, wanting to do the right thing and contact the owner, would have earned him some points. But nothing. Nada. Not one damn name.
Either the garage owners said they had never serviced a Camry, which was extremely unlikely and meant they were too lazy to check their records, or they brought up some bullshit about privacy and wouldn’t give him any information.
“Damn it!” he yelled at the ceiling. It was like no one wanted him to make amends for his past. No, he corrected himself, this wasn’t about him. It was about stopping dogs from getting hurt. That was what was important. The only encouragement he got was from Marla. Brad thought he should leave it to the police. His uncle had taken to calling and giving him fake names, thinking it was all a big joke. And…well, there was no one else.
Gabe frowned. Three decades and some change on this planet, and he had one good friend, family he didn’t want to claim, Dax, who was…who the hell knew what.
And Marla. His latest one-night stand. Which was on its fourth day now.
Linking his fingers together, he cradled the back of his neck. He massaged his nape with his thumbs. He should contemplate his next move in finding who was running the fights, but all he wanted to think about was the feel of Marla’s silky skin under his palm. The way she wrapped those long legs around his hips. Her smile as she looked up at him from her pillow. His throat went thick, and he swallowed.
Christ. Couldn’t he keep his mind off the woman for one damn minute? He checked his watch. It was early yet. About the time he’d call Marla to see if she was busy. He angled his chair so his phone was out of his vision. He wasn’t going to call her. He’d seen Marla every night since they’d started up. Time to cool it down so she didn’t get any wrong ideas.
He checked his watch again. Maybe one more night wouldn’t hurt. He reached for his phone.
“Honey!” An obnoxious voice bellowed from the front hall. “I’m home!”
Dax’s boots clomped to the doorway of Gabe’s makeshift office. He dropped his duffel bag at his feet and stretched. Streaks of mud clung to the bag, and were now more than likely pasting themselves to Gabe’s hardwood floors. He checked Dax’s boots. Yep. Equally filthy, and he’d just tracked that shit through the house.
“You’re never leaving, are you?” Gabe asked, despair gnawing at his soul. This was what he got for being a nice guy. A perpetual filth-maker in his house. Dax was all the trouble of a dog with none of the fun.
Dax opened his mouth, hesitated, and peered at Gabe. “Jesus, you look like hell. Are you becoming a mountain man now?”
Gabe rubbed his cheek. He’d forgotten about the beard. A small red lump had appeared on his face the morning after Marla’s rodeo, and he’d decided not to shave. His beard grew fast, but it was hardly mountain man material yet.
“Bugger off,” Gabe said mildly. He could give a shit what Dax thought about it. Marla didn’t seem to mind the scruff. In fact, there had been moments when she’d really, really liked the extra scratch.
“Why are you grinning?” Dax asked.
Gabe cleared his throat and sat up. He pulled a pile of paper to the center of the desk and aligned all the edges. “What happened to you? You were supposed to pick up some dogs and bring them back here. Not find a mud puddle and roll in it.”
“The van broke down in the middle of Huron-Manistee National Forest—”
&n
bsp; “Why were you off the interstate?”
Dax rolled his eyes, as if traveling on wide, well-paved thoroughfares was only for the faint-of-heart. “Anyways, I was able to give it a temporary fix with duct tape and the wire from a cage, but it was too late to go further that night so the dogs and I camped it. This morning we went for a trail run before heading home and came across a pine marten! It was adorable, but the dogs had it cornered and I had to intervene.” He examined his clothes. “It got messy. I thought I got most of the muck off at the shelter when I dropped the dogs off.”
Gabe rubbed his temples.
“I’ve got some great pictures.” Dax reached into his cargo pocket for his phone. “Want to see?” He stepped forward.
Holding up a hand, palm out, Gabe shook his head. “No.”
“But—”
“You’re going to get yourself in real trouble one of these days,” Gabe said. “You know that, right?”
“Martens aren’t a threat to humans. Those stories of them attacking kids are pure urban leg—”
“I’m not talking about that,” Gabe said. “I’m talking about the trouble you’d get into if a forest ranger found you messing with a protected animal.”
Dax pinched his lips tight. “I wasn’t messing with it. I was just”—he made a scooping motion with his arms—“getting it into a tree where the little guy’d be safe.”
Gabe stared at the ceiling and shook his head.
“Hey, I’m not the one running around looking for dog fights,” Dax pointed out.
“I’m not planning on rolling with those guys once I find them. I’ll call the cops.”
“Uh-huh.” Dax arched an eyebrow.
Okay, so maybe he did want to go a round or two before the police showed up. Sue him. “Go take a shower.” He turned in his chair to face his computer. “And clean up all the damn mud you tracked in.” He opened his calendar to check his schedule for the next week. “Three damn days I told him he could stay here,” Gabe grumbled as Dax swung his bag up to his shoulder.
Forever Found Page 13