by Cindy Dees
“Of course not. I didn’t want you to know.”
She tilted her head forward, resting her forehead against his chin. “If only I’d known.”
“What would you have done? Defied your father? Run away from home to sleep with me? Ruined your reputation and your life for me? I couldn’t let you do that, Will. You were destined for bigger things than a kid from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“Do you really think I’m such a snob?”
He kissed her forehead, her temple, her cheekbone. “I think you’re a miracle.”
How could she not melt a little at that? Her arms went around his neck and she scooted forward until she was practically sitting in his lap. His hand plunged into her hair, drawing her up against him as he really kissed her then.
His lips were firm and confident, possessing her mouth completely. He surged up over her, drawing
her the rest of the way into his lap. His hand slid under her hair and started a long, slow journey down her bare back. Shivers radiated outward from his palm as it counted her vertebrae one by one.
He reached the small of her back, but his hand didn’t stop. Lower, and lower still, his fingers moved, easing inside the seam of her dress. She moaned a little as his finger hooked in the edge of the skimpy thong the sales lady had sworn was the only lingerie she could wear under this gown. A single finger slipped into the upper cleft of her buttocks, and she all but came undone then and there.
Her entire body went languid and warm, flowing against him like sun-drenched honey. She kissed the side of his neck, groaning as his finger retreated and then advanced once more.
“Are you okay?” he asked carefully.
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured against his collarbone.
“Need more time?”
She blinked her eyes open, struggling to focus on his face through the haze of lust enveloping her. He looked...worried. Cautious. Crap. She didn’t want cautious.
“Gabe, there is something I do need.”
His hands retreated from her body instantly. “Anything.”
“I need you to forget for a while what’s happened to me in my recent past. If you treat me like I’m psychologically damaged and am going to break if you take the slightest misstep, how am I going to put that out of my mind?”
He started to open his mouth, but she talked quickly to get out what she had to say before she lost her courage. “I need you to make love to me like I’m a real woman. Like you want me. I need you not to hold back. Ravish me. Take everything you want from me. Show me what it means to be your woman.”
He looked positively thunderstruck. “Are you sure?” he choked out.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” She’d also never been more scared. This was it. She was going for everything she’d ever imagined getting from him. Reaching for her dream. Please, please, let him not freak out and run screaming from me.
By infinitesimally slow degrees, a smile formed on his lovely mouth and spread until it encompassed his entire face. His eyes glowed hotly, and his jaw rippled with sudden tension. “All right, then,” he breathed.
Her heart leaped into her throat. She had no idea what she’d just unleashed, and she was a little intimidated at the notion of finding out, but she’d already jumped off the cliff and was in free fall now. She might as well enjoy the flight.
“Now, where were we?” she said softly. She leaned forward to kiss the taut muscles of his neck, and let her palms slide up the contours of his chest under the fine linen of his shirt. She raised up to nibble his earlobe and swirl her tongue around his ear while she got to work on the collar studs of his shirt.
Cuff links and studs fell with metallic clinks to the floor and she peeled his shirt away with reverence as she unveiled a gorgeous display of pecs and abs. The man was in stellar shape. He must work out for hours and hours each week to have built a physique like that.
“Good grief, you’re amazing,” she mumbled against his collarbone as she leaned forward to taste all that delicious brawn.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he muttered.
She laughed against his skin, pushing him back onto the cushions so she could explore him more thoroughly. To his credit, he was in no rush and let her take her time learning the feel of his smooth, tanned skin and hard muscles. The man had no body fat. A network of veins lay just beneath his skin, testament to how fit he was. He might not have the bulk of a hardcore body builder, but he certainly had the definition of one.
“Talk to me, Willa. What are you thinking and feeling right now?”
Surprised by the question, she chuckled ruefully. “I’m trying hard not to think about how unworthy I am of a man like you. You’re a freaking god.”
That brought him up off the cushions, reversing their positions quickly until she was pressed deep into the leather sofa and he loomed over her. “I hate to be the one to break the news, but you’re breathtaking. You may have hidden behind those old lady suits and drab makeup all these years, but the butterfly has broken free of her cocoon, baby.”
She smiled up at him skeptically. If lavishly complimenting the women he was making love to was part of his arsenal, far be it for her to disagree with him. She had told him not to hold back, after all. And he did make her feel kind of pretty.
He slid off the sofa, kneeling beside her as his hands and mouth wandered over smooth copper satin. His mouth closed on the peak of her breast through the skimpy fabric. She arched up into him, shocked at how violently aroused she was when he nipped at her flesh through the gown. It teetered right on the edge between pleasure and pain. For just a moment a bolt of fear pierced her desire, but then a single thought washed through her. This is Gabe. I’m safe. She relaxed once more and let the lust he provoked rage through her, unchecked.
She reached for him to return the favor, but his fingers snagged hers and he pulled her hands high up over her head, her arms outstretched. “Lay the backs of your hands on the arm of the couch, baby. And don’t move them. Keep them there. Understand?”
She nodded, too aroused to trust her voice. And as his hands skimmed down her body to cup her privates, she began to understand. The slit in her skirt gave his hot hand convenient access to the juncture of her thighs. He simultaneously kissed her into oblivion and slipped his hand between her legs, which were too weak with desire to do anything but give way beneath his touch.
Slipping under the skimpy lace thong, his fingers played upon her raging desire like a concert piano, and then she fully understood his order not to move her hands. She writhed beneath his touch, trapped by
her promise, helpless to stop the need ripping through her and possessing no will to stop it, anyway.
He lifted her hips briefly to push her satin skirt up and out of the way, baring her entire lower body to him. Self-conscious, she squirmed, but he merely pushed her thighs apart and leaned forward to kiss her more intimately than anyone ever had before. His mouth was warm and wet and drove her completely out of her mind. Whatever embarrassment she’d felt was incinerated by the heat he generated deep within her desperately clenching body.
“Let it go for me,” he muttered against her throbbing flesh. His tongue swirled across her, and she lurched in shock as her entire body clenched and then exploded with an electric tingle that shot from her core to every extremity on a violent spasm of pleasure. What in the world was that? Holy cow. Was that what all the fuss was about? How—in her admittedly not that frequent sexual encounters over the years—had she missed that?
“Wow,” she gasped. “Do that again!”
Gabe laughed against her inner thigh. “My pleasure, ma’am.” His mouth closed on her again, and in mere seconds, her swollen flesh was tightening, the explosion building deep within her, growing, growing, until she cried out her release on a shudder of ecstasy that swept through her like chain lightning. She fell back against the leather, panting.
“Still with me?” Gabe asked against her belly.
“Coming
back down to earth slowly,” she replied, more than a little dazed.
“Mmm. That’s how I like my women.”
“Boneless and stunned?”
“Stunned?” he questioned.
“I’ve never, umm, well, just wow,” she mumbled, abruptly embarrassed at how green she really was at this sex stuff.
“Never done that or never reacted like that?” he asked, lifting up on one elbow beside her to look down at her.
Her face exploded into fiery heat that could only be the mother of all blushes. “Neither,” she confessed.
“That was your first orgasm?” he exclaimed.
She squeezed her eyes shut in mortification. If possible, her face heated up a few more degrees Kelvin.
And then his mouth was on her forehead, kissing her face all over as his fingertips caressed her body lightly through the satin gown. “Wanna do it again?” he murmured against the corner of her mouth.
“Yes!” she blurted.
He laughed richly. “You women have all the luck. You get to have as many of those as you want until you fall unconscious of exhaustion.”
She couldn’t help but reply, “That sounds absolutely amazing.”
He laughed again. “Sex till complete exhaustion it is.”
He pushed up off the sofa and reached down for her hands, still plastered to the arm of his sofa. He lifted her to her feet, and she was shocked at how wobbly her legs were. His hands took bunches of satin at her hips and raised the gown up over her head, blatantly skimming his palms over her curves as he went.
He stepped back for a moment to stare at her standing there in just the thong. With a smile, he moved close once more to hook a finger under the lingerie and whisk it down her body, as well.
“Better,” he murmured. “The firelight looks even sexier than that dress on your skin.”
And with those words, he banished any shame or self-consciousness she might have been feeling. He was still wearing his tuxedo trousers, with a satin stripe down their sides, emphasizing the length and power of his thighs. She reached for his waistband and he grinned down at her as she hooked both pants and briefs and stripped them off him.
He was more than ready for her and she, too, stepped back to take a long look at him. The firelight made him look like a savage, strong and wild and untamed. And yet, he was beautiful, too. Someone ought to carve a statue of him and put it in a museum.
“You okay?” he murmured.
She gazed up into his eyes. “I’m fine. I keep telling you I feel perfectly safe with you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he muttered half under his breath.
“Why not?”
He looked over his shoulder into the fire before admitting, “Because of some of the things I want to do to you, Miss Merris.”
“Show me?”
His gaze snapped back to hers, blazing more brightly than the fire. “Are you sure?”
“You promised to make me go unconscious of exhaustion,” she reminded him.
Who knew a gaze so dark could burn so bright? It seared into her, promising exhaustion and more. He stepped forward, swept her into his arms, and burned the night down around her.
* * *
Willa woke to a weight across her middle. Even in sleep, Gabe had a possessive arm thrown across her, claiming her as his. She took in the morning light in his bedroom, which was as rustic and comfortable as the rest of the bungalow. Funny how this place was as much a part of Gabe as his high-tech condo in Dallas.
She took inventory of her body, which felt unfamiliar to her. She’d had no idea it was capable of the excesses of pleasure to which Gabe had brought it last night. This morning she felt limp. A little achy here and there, but overall, glorious. No wonder women raved about him in the bedroom. Not that she planned to add to the gossip about him any time soon.
What the other women had failed to mention was how sweet and funny and considerate he could also be. Yes, he’d demanded everything she had to give to him and had not allowed her to hide any part of herself from him. But he’d never made her feel anything other than special and beautiful and sexy. He’d fundamentally changed how she viewed herself. Her body. Her sensuality. For the first time in her life, she felt like a woman.
He stirred, his arm tightening around her, pulling her closer against his side. His mouth moved lazily in her hair. “Morning,” he mumbled.
She turned into him, looping her arms around his neck. “Good morning, indeed,” she murmured back.
His eyes opened and a smile gleamed in them. “You’re even more beautiful the morning after. Women the planet over would kill to look like you with no makeup on, and their hair tousled around them like that.”
She smiled up at him with a new confidence she’d never had before. Not until Gabe Dawson had loved her. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
His visage went surprisingly serious. “Actually, I’ve never said that to a woman before. And I meant it when I said it to you.”
Warmth unfolded low in her belly that had nothing to do with lust. “You really are a special man. Thank you so much for last night.”
A crack of laughter escaped him. “Honey, that’s my line. I’m the one who should be thanking you. Hell, I should be doing it on bended knee with dozens of roses in my arms.”
“I prefer gardenias. Roses are too sweet and overwhelming for me.”
“Duly noted.” He kissed the tip of her nose and rolled over onto his back, taking her with him by virtue of his arm around her shoulders. “What shall we do today?” he asked reflectively.
“Don’t you have an empire to run?”
He shrugged beneath her ear. “It’ll run itself for a few days.”
Since when did he blow off his company for a woman? The way she heard it, he took business calls in the middle of sex. Although, having experienced his total focus firsthand, she had to question the quality of the woman’s lovemaking who’d reported that salacious little tidbit about him. Nonetheless, he had a solid reputation as a workaholic.
She was definitely on board with the notion of spending the day in bed with him. She couldn’t get enough of him. And not just the sex. Just being skin-to-skin with him like this renewed her spirit. Healed her wounded soul. She felt like a woman again, cherished and whole. They lay there for several minutes of relaxed quiet, which was another thing she loved about him. He didn’t feel a compulsion to fill the silences with meaningless noise.
But then the ring of a telephone shattered the quiet. He reached out to pick up his cell phone and look at the incoming number. He swore quietly and put the phone to his ear. “Dawson, here.”
She snuggled against his side, relishing his heat and strength as his fingers twined lazily in her hair. All of a sudden, his entire body tensed.
“What?” he burst out. “When?” A pause. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
She sat up in alarm beside him. “What’s wrong?”
“The police got a video of my wife.”
His wife. He called Melinda his wife. Not his ex-wife. Willa rolled away from him and climbed out of his bed hastily, all but running for the living room and the scanty protection of her clothing. He’d called her his wife.
Chapter 11
Gabe leaped into jeans and a shirt and was relieved to see Willa dressed in her gown and waiting by the door when he came out of his bedroom.
“I’ll drop you off at your place on my way to the police station,” he told her.
She nodded, and followed obediently as he rushed out the front door. He opened her door impatiently, nearly slamming it on her skirt in his haste. The short ride to her house was silent.
He pulled up to the curb out front and she said only, “I hope Melinda’s all right.”
“Me, too,” he bit out.
He peeled away from the curb without watching Willa to her front door. It was nine in the morning, after all. The bad guys were only coming after her at night.
Thankfully, Vengeance was a small town
and no destination was more than a few minutes away. He pulled up outside the police department and was not surprised to see reporters camped out on the front steps. If he were the new sheriff, his first order of business would be to plug the leak in the Vengeance police force.
Girding himself to face the grilling, he stepped out of his Escalade and was immediately assaulted by a chorus of shouted questions.
He raised his voice to be heard over the cacophony. “I don’t know anything. I have no comment, and I’m sure you already know as much or more than I do.” That brought a few dry chuckles from the press. Yup, definitely an informant in the building.
He elbowed aside a newcomer to the Vengeance coverage who hadn’t learned to stay the hell out of his way yet, and jogged up the steps to city hall and the police department inside.
Officer Radebaugh met him just inside the door. The young cop struck him as clumsy but well-meaning, and not entirely incompetent at his job. Gabe nodded at the officer. “How’s Melinda? How much does the kidnapper want?”
“There’s no ransom demand. Would you like to see the video?”
Duh. “Of course.”
“We’ve got a video set up in the conference room. An analyst from the FBI is looking at it now.”
Gabe followed the cop down a short hall to a dim room dominated by a long conference table, disordered chairs and an old-fashioned roll-down screen at one end of the room. A laptop projected a currently still image up on the wall. Gabe stopped, shocked.
Melinda sat in a wooden chair, her short blond hair disheveled, her arms restrained behind her back in some unseen manner. Although her ankles weren’t visible, her posture indicated that they were tied to the chair, as well. The collar of her blouse was torn, and she looked haggard. A lurid bruise lit up her left eye. She looked like she hadn’t bathed or slept in days.
Radebaugh spoke from behind Gabe. “This is Professor Grayson’s husband.”
An attractive brunette woman looked up briefly from her contemplation of the still image, then went right back to her study. “I’m Agent Delaney. Play the video from the beginning, Green,” the woman ordered absently.