“Oh, I don’t think that’s what you need,” Kennedy countered, not intimidated in the least. The fact seemed to surprise Gamble, his brows edging up by the barest degree. His stare glittered in the ambient light spilling down from the hospital’s exterior fixtures, emotion rolling out of him in waves.
“Really. And what is it you think I do need?”
Her hands found her hips. “A ride, for starters. And please don’t tell me you’ll walk,” she added before he could interrupt. “Because I would hate to go back into that hospital and tell Captain Bridges you’re planning a what? Eight, nine mile hike through the city in your bunker gear after you were just caught in a freaking building explosion? Especially since he just told you to go home and rest.”
For a split second, Gamble looked as if he’d try his luck anyway. He must’ve realized she wasn’t bluffing, though, because instead, he said, “You can’t take care of this the way you try to take care of everything else.”
Kennedy’s chest constricted from the deep slice of the words. But rather than let them make her bleed, she unfolded her spine as tall as her frame would allow, looked him dead in the eye.
And volleyed.
“And you can’t outrun your ghosts. So here we are, me and you, both fucked up together. Now, are you going to get in my car so I can take you home, or am I going to have to drag your ass?”
Wordlessly, he released an exhale, dropping his chin by a fraction. Kennedy realized it was all the concession she was going to get, so she spun on the heels of her black stack-heeled boots and cut a straight path to her car.
The nighttime air was temperate, not cool, but not quite warm, either, and Kennedy took a great, big breath of the stuff to try and settle the dual overdose of anger and hurt pumping through her veins. She allowed herself a small breath of relief when Gamble crammed himself into her passenger seat without argument, and it calmed her enough to let her drive with a (mostly) clear head. Having been there so recently, she made the trip to his place with ease, her pulse stuttering with a fresh round of dread when his hand closed over the door handle before she’d even pulled to a full stop in the visitor’s parking lot next to his building.
“I don’t need an escort,” Gamble said when she caught up with him a handful of strides later. But between the ice-cold fear she’d felt earlier and the red-hot anger she was brimming with now, Kennedy had reached her limit. She’d never taken shit from anyone in her life. She wasn’t about to start now.
“And I don’t do anything halfway. I said I’d get you home, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Suit yourself,” he huffed. His boots stabbed into the pavement, then the floor of the lobby, then the elevator, his long legs eating up the deserted stretch of hallway leading up to his front door. Gamble keyed his way over the threshold, but he only made it three steps into his apartment before turning back to pin her with a stare she felt in every part of her that would never see the light of day.
“I’m home, safe and sound. You can go now.”
The calm she’d found on the drive over fractured, making her heart beat harder in her rib cage and her blood hum with a push of fresh adrenaline. “No, I really can’t,” she said.
“I mean it, Kennedy. You can’t fix this. You can’t fix me.” Gamble’s eyes flashed with barely banked emotion, and just like that, she snapped.
“I don’t want to stay to fix you, you big fucking dolt! I want to stay because I care about you. I want to stay because even though you’re doing your best to push me away for some reason that I don’t get, I can’t stand the thought of you hurting and I want you to be okay. So would you please just stop shutting me out and tell me what you need!”
Gamble stood there for a second, staring at her with an expression so intense, she could barely breathe under the weight of it. Kennedy’s heartbeat pressed in a rapid tattoo against her ears, at her throat, and, oh God, deep between her legs as Gamble looked at her. Took a step forward. Then another.
“You. I need you. And right now, that scares the fuck out of me.”
22
Gamble had always thought a bullet would be the thing to end him, or maybe a bomb or a blade or any number of other bad-and-nasties he’d run into as a Marine.
The irony of the fact that it had been a woman—this woman—who had brought him to his goddamned knees?
Not lost on him.
“Is that why you’re acting like a righteous asshat?” Kennedy asked slowly. “Because you’re scared?”
Gamble stabbed a hand through his hair. Christ, he’d fucked this up so thoroughly, thinking he could keep her at arm’s length and hide all this shit from her, just like he did with everyone else.
Kennedy wasn’t like anyone else. What’s more, he didn’t want her at arm’s length at all. Despite all the emotions slamming around inside of him like a Category 5 hurricane, Gamble wanted her close. He wanted to let her in. To show her all his fears and flaws in all their fucked-up glory.
So, yeah. Since that had never, ever gone down before, and up until tonight he’d been dead-certain it never, ever would, scared pretty much covered it. But even when his defenses had dug in and he’d tried to push her away, to cover up the emotions that were threatening to bare their teeth and swallow him whole, she’d refused to back down.
She gave a shit about him. Wanted him to be okay. Cared.
And right now, as crazy and mindless and impulsive as it was, Gamble didn’t just want her or need her.
From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, he fucking craved her.
On second thought, scared might not touch this.
“Yes,” he said, the admission sounding like RPG fire in the soft quiet of his foyer. Or maybe that was just the way it felt. “Most of the time, I’ve got nothing more than a head full of razor wire. So tonight…you…feeling like this…fuck, how much I want you…” His throat went tight. “Yeah. It scares me, okay?”
Kennedy tilted her head, one brow arched over her emerald-green stare as she closed all of the space between them, and sweet Jesus, Gamble had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
“I’m scared, too. But I want you. I want this.” Reaching up, she pressed her hand over the center of his chest. “If I’m what you need to be okay, then take me. Hold me, have me, fuck me. I’ll give you whatever you need. Just don’t shut me out.”
His mouth was on hers in an instant, her lips parting readily beneath his, her body arching up at the same time he bent to pull her in close. The kiss was greedy and graceless, but fuck, he didn’t care. Every taste of her made him want the next one more, each slide of his tongue over hers daring him to go faster, hotter, deeper. Kennedy took it all, returning the kiss with equal intensity as she pushed past his lips to take from him in return. He opened just briefly to give her access, to let her lick her way into his mouth, to dominate the kiss once she was there. But as much as it turned him on to let Kennedy take the lead and have her way with him, Gamble had meant what he’d told her.
She was what he needed. And right now, he meant to have her, to strip her naked and do every dark and dirty thing he could think of to her tight, sweet pussy until the only word she knew was his goddamned name.
“Come with me,” he said, grabbing her hand and turning roughly toward his bedroom. It took Kennedy about three steps to get over the surprise that had crossed her lips in a soft gasp, but she stuck right behind him as if she trusted him implicitly.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he crossed the threshold of his bedroom but bypassed the bed he’d made to military standards at oh-six-thirty this morning before leaving for his shift.
Gamble waited until they were both in his bathroom before dropping her hand to turn on the lights and pull back the shower curtain.
“You want to take a shower?” Kennedy’s expression made it clear she wasn’t done in the surprise department, and Christ, even this woman’s shock was fucking sexy.
“Mmm hmm.” He flipped the faucet leve
r, adjusting the water temperature to hot but not scalding, then stepping back toward the spot where she stood, wide-eyed, on the tile. He let his gaze drop to his soot-stained bunker pants and the T-shirt that had been plastered to his skin beneath the rest of his gear during the fire call. He might want to bend Kennedy over the nearest surface and sink balls-deep between her legs until they both lost their minds, but even he knew when to take a detour for the sake of decorum.
“While I plan to get filthy with you, literally being dirty isn’t what I had in mind,” Gamble said, shouldering out of his suspenders and yanking his T-shirt over his head to throw it in the corner.
“Oh,” Kennedy breathed, her pupils dilating enough to turn her stare more black than green as it roamed over his bare chest. “Well, then, I guess a shower couldn’t hurt. You do kind of smell like smoke.”
He unzipped her hoodie and let it fall to the floor, a sweet, familiar scent drifting up through the mist starting to fill the bathroom. “And you smell like hot chocolate.”
“I spilled it when I was watching the news,” she said, her fingers making fast work of his bunker pants, then his sweatpants as he kicked out of his boots. “You’re not off the hook, by the way.” She ran her hand over the inside of his thigh, stopping just shy of his aching cock before going to work on her own jeans. “I am really mad at you for scaring me like that.”
“I know.” Unable to hold himself in check, Gamble gripped the denim she’d just finished unbuttoning and yanked it from her hips. “Now, are you going to take off those panties, or am I going to rip them off of you with my teeth?”
Mercifully, Kennedy obliged. Lowering the sheer black fabric from her hips, she slid out of both her jeans and her panties, leaving her in nothing but her thin white tank top. The moisture now permeating the air in the small bathroom made the cotton cling to her body, outlining her tight, dark pink nipples in a way that made Gamble’s mouth water. She reached down, presumably to pull the thing over her head and get fully naked, but he captured her wrist in a quick, impulse-driven grab.
“Leave it.”
He kicked his boxer briefs into the past tense with one tug, leading Kennedy toward the shower a second later. Pulling the curtain aside with one hand, he reached in to test the spray with the other, then stepped over the edge of the tub to guide her into the warmth of the shower.
“There,” Gamble grated. The sight of her, with the water dampening her hair and spiraling over creamy skin and bright ink, made his cock jerk hard between his legs. He stood back, simultaneously wanting to take her in and just plain take her. But one look at the way the water had turned her tank top translucent, showcasing the firm curve of her belly and those gorgeous, upturned nipples just begging to be sucked, had him abandoning the sit-and-stare. His palms found her waist, pressing over the wet cotton to feel the heat of her body beneath, and she lifted her lashes until their stares met.
Wordlessly, Kennedy reached down for the bar of soap sitting on the ledge built into the shower wall. She worked up a quick lather, moving both her hands and the soap over his body in firm, efficient strokes. Shoulders, chest, rib cage, legs, she covered him in bubbles, letting the water wash away the reminder of all they’d been through tonight until the only thing that remained was the two of them. Here. Now.
“Better?” she whispered, putting the soap back in its cradle. Cupping her face with both palms, Gamble tilted her chin up, brushing his mouth over hers in the softest of motions before shaking his head to correct her.
“Perfect.”
In less than a breath, the softness of the kiss became something else. Gamble’s hands coasted from Kennedy’s face to her shoulders, taking in every dip and flare and curve with growing urgency. He explored the landscape of her hot, shower-slick body, the friction of his fingers on the wet, see-through cotton sending sparks of dark, demanding want up his spine. He curled his palms beneath her tits, pushing the edge of her tank top aside with his chin to bare one tightly drawn nipple.
“Please. Please, please.” Kennedy arched into his touch. But she was crazy if she thought he could deny her—Christ, he had a hard enough time not blowing his control when she was sassy and sharp. When she begged for his mouth in that velvet-covered, make-me-come voice?
Yeah, he wasn’t saying no. Ever.
Gamble closed his mouth over her nipple. He skipped softer touches and swirls and flicks in favor of straight-up suction, and, ah, there it was. The cry that tore from Kennedy’s throat was first pleasure, then want. His dick throbbed, the slide of his achingly sensitive skin over the flat of her bare lower belly tempting him to skip over anything that didn’t involve him lifting her up to pin her to the shower wall so he could come deep inside of her right this goddamned second. But then she knotted her fingers in his hair, anchoring him just where she wanted him, and the silent demand for more of his mouth honed his purpose.
Alternating between both nipples—fuck, she tasted sweeter with every pass—he gave Kennedy exactly what she’d asked for. Each glide of his tongue made him hungrier, heat building in his blood to match her moans and sighs. She pressed up to the balls of her feet, her bowing spine proof of her greedy need for more, and something snapped, deep in Gamble’s gut. Impulsively, he pulled back, but only far enough to lower his hands to her waist and turn her around. Swinging her so his back absorbed the spray of the shower, he slid his hands down her arms, circling her wrists with his fingers.
“Put your hands on the wall.”
Kennedy looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes flashing with fire he knew the words would earn him. “What?”
But, oh, he had fire, too, and right now, he wasn’t about to be denied.
“Put.” Gamble dropped his mouth to her ear, his lips barely brushing her skin until she shuddered. “Your hands.” He squeezed her wrists, enough to let her know he was there, but not enough—never enough—to hurt her. “On the wall, Kennedy.”
Her exhale shook with desire as she lifted her arms and placed her palms flat against the shower tiles. He pressed against her from behind, his chest against her shoulder blades, his dick notched snugly against the curve of her lower back. Releasing his grip on her wrists, Gamble ran his hands over her arms, letting his touch shape the lean muscles across the back of her rib cage before reaching the hem of her tank top to push it up to bare her tight, flawless ass.
Gamble was on his knees before his brain even knew the rest of him would move.
“Open,” he grated, a pulse of wicked lust moving through his blood when she did. Kennedy planted her feet wide over the porcelain floor, and Christ—Christ—he had never seen anything so hot or so simply beautiful in his entire life. Reaching up, he cupped her body with both hands, splaying his fingers over the spot where her thighs tapered into the swell of her ass and spreading her wide.
“Ah.” Kennedy’s head fell back, her dark red fingernails turning inward against the tile, and Gamble felt his smile in no less than fifty places.
“I know you want it, baby.” He stroked a thumb over her folds, the wetness between her legs having nothing to do with the shower. “I won’t make you wait.”
He pushed forward to taste her with one long sweep of his tongue. A noise broke from her throat, her muscles clenching beneath his hands a split second later.
But hell if he was going to stop.
Fitting his shoulders against the backs of her thighs, Gamble increased their contact. Testing her out with slow glides of his tongue, he settled between her legs, using her moans as a guide. Kennedy was far from shy—not that he expected anything less—pumping her hips and widening her stance as far as the edges of the tub would allow. Gamble pushed his tongue farther inside, thrusting into the heat of her pussy until her motions and her breathing grew faster.
More. More. Fuck, he wanted more of her, hot and reckless and right goddamn now. Laying her bare with both hands, he dipped a thumb into her sex, sliding all the way in with ease. Kennedy tilted back into the touch, the move revealing the t
ight ring of muscle resting sweetly between her ass cheeks, and a shot of unrestrained want made Gamble slip his thumb out of her body to inch it higher.
“Yes,” Kennedy murmured, consent and want mixing together in her honeyed tone. He didn’t even think of not obliging. Circling the pad of his already-slick thumb around her hole, he leaned in to push back into her pussy with his tongue. He tasted and pressed and gave and took, pleasuring her in every way he could think of. His cock was hard as steel, jutting up between his legs and begging to be where his fingers and mouth were, working Kennedy’s body in increasingly bolder strokes. She thrust against him, his tongue buried inside of her and his thumb gaining slow entrance into her tight, hot ass, until finally, he felt her muscles clamp down and begin to shudder.
“There you are. Right there.” Gamble slid his thumb farther into her hole with firm yet shallow pressure, reaching his other hand over her hip to finger her swollen, needy clit.
“Please,” Kennedy begged. “Oh, fuck, please don’t stop.”
“You want to give me what I need, baby? Then come for me. All I need is you.”
The shudder between Kennedy’s legs became a full-on quake, her inner muscles gripping and releasing as she came with a keening gasp. Gamble held steady, not wanting to lessen the pleasure of the touches that had gotten her there, but not wanting to short-circuit her senses, either. He slowed as she did, softening their contact breath by breath and finding his feet just in time to turn her around and pull her in close.
“I need you, too.”
Her whisper was quiet, so much so that he nearly didn’t catch it over the rush of the shower. But the words, and the emotion that went with them, were there in her eyes, and Gamble lowered his forehead to hers.
“Show me. Let me give you what you need, too.”
Kennedy nodded. A quick pair of movements had the water, then her tank top off, and one more took them from the shower to the bathmat. Gamble didn’t bother with a towel—nothing was more important than the woman leading him over to his bed right now—and his heart began to pound at the sight of Kennedy laid out in front of him, outlined in only the soft light from the bathroom. Her wet hair was slicked away from her face, all traces of the makeup she usually wore gone.
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