by Alyssa Cole
Hurried footsteps crunched through the snow. I recognized them as Gabriel’s. Apparently he was destined to come rushing to save me from problems of my own making.
“Arden, what the hell—” he bit out, and then his warm hands were on me, pulling me up like a rag doll and cradling me against him.
“Please leave me alone, Gabriel,” I said in a dull voice.
“Great idea. We definitely need a case of hypothermia, and maybe some frostbitten digits for me to amputate.” His words were gruff, but laced with worry.
My arms remained stiffly at my sides, but he hugged me close to his heat, pulling the edges of his warm down jacket around me and zipping me inside with him.
“Put your arms and legs around me.”
I obeyed numbly, and I was snugly ensconced in warmth. I was amazed at how much heat his body produced. It was like being wrapped around a furnace compared to the extreme cold I had just endured.
“Do you want to go back inside?” he asked.
I shook my head. He walked toward the door, but instead of going in he continued until my back was pressed against the side of the house. His hands slid under my ass, giving me extra support. He hugged me to him in silence as my shivering subsided and my tears stopped flowing.
“Do you want to tell me why you let a drunk sixteen-year-old having a tantrum drive you out into the snow?”
I rested my head on his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. “I was supposed to go visit my parents at Thanksgiving,” I said on a shaky exhale, finally letting it all out. I hadn’t even revealed this to John. “But I told them I was busy with work and that I’d come at Christmas. I wasn’t busy. Business was slow, even. When they started asking me when I was arriving for Christmas, I stalled again, saying I was swamped and I’d get there in January, when things died down.
“The last time I spoke to my mother was to tell her I actually couldn’t make it, but that I’d be there in February, for sure. And I heard it. I heard the moment when it clicked for her that I’d been lying, when she realized I’d been avoiding coming out to visit her.”
The memory of the soft, slightly startled “Oh” my mom had uttered bought a fresh sheen of tears to my eyes. I shuddered out a breath, disgusted with myself. Although I didn’t deserve the comfort, Gabriel rubbed a hand up and down my lower back.
“Why didn’t you want to see her? I thought she was sick,” he said.
“She is,” I whispered. “She is, and I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t deal with seeing her like that, and that’s the last thing my parents learned about their child. That I’m an ungrateful coward.”
His chest expanded against me as he heaved a sigh, and his warm breath rushed past my ear on the exhale. I wondered what he was thinking of me, this man so dedicated to the bonds of family. Would he still want me now, knowing how I’d let down my own flesh and blood?
“Not wanting to see your mother suffer doesn’t make you a bad person, Arden. People do crazy things when they’re scared, especially when they’re faced with a situation they can’t control. I could go on and on about what I’ve seen from patients and their families at the hospital. I’m sure your mother understood that you were scared, and I’m sure she’ll tell you that when you see her again.”
I shook my head. “My parents are old, and my mother is sick. I’ve been trying to tell myself they’re okay, but chances are they’re not. It’s been so hard hearing you guys be so optimistic about your parents returning, and knowing that mine are probably—”
“Enough with the self-flagellation, Arden,” Gabriel interrupted. “You don’t know anything right now, so quit imagining the worst. You can’t change that you didn’t go visit them. Shit happens. Do you really think that could make them love you any less?”
He had hit on exactly what made me feel as if I was in free fall every time I thought of my parents—that innate and overwhelming fear of disappointing those I loved the most.
“Arden, should I love my parents less because they left us here and ended up getting detained somewhere? Because if they’d just stayed with us, we wouldn’t be worried to death about them right now. I get angry, but I still care about them more than anything. I’m sure your parents feel the same way.”
I sniffled in response and shook my head. I had held on to this pain for weeks now, and letting it go would be losing yet another connection to my parents.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice urgent and low and impossible to disobey. “I completely understand your sadness and your regret, but this isn’t you. This giving in to the darkness and wallowing in it—it is not you.”
“You barely know me,” I said, distracted from my self-pity by his indignation on my behalf.
“No, you don’t get to pull that again,” he said. “That may have been true a few days ago, but not anymore. I know that you’re bossy and tough and smart. That you care about people so deeply, even if you try to hide it under a veneer of sarcasm. And if I can figure that out after a few days, I’m pretty sure your parents know how much you love them, even if they found your actions hurtful.”
A profound relief washed through me as I finally let his words have their intended effect. I didn’t feel entirely guilt-free, but I knew he was right.
“Thank you,” I whispered, wiping my tears away. In addition to warming my body, Gabriel had warmed my soul, as well. My sadness receded to the background, and I realized something—in the midst of tragedy and uncertainty, I’d finally met a man who knew me, the real me, and didn’t find me wanting. A man who cared about me even though I was stubborn, and who, for all his controlling ways, didn’t try to change me. One who’d listened to my greatest fears and absolved me of them.
“I know I should wish you were in California with your parents, but I’m damned glad you’re here,” he said, and I again felt that fluttering sensation in my chest, this time chased by a pressure that wouldn’t ease, pressing me forward until my lips met with his.
I leaned into the kiss, savoring the warmth of his mouth. He responded with slow brushes of his lips over mine. My body was pressed against his and his fingertips were inches away from my own personal promised land, but it was the brief brushing of lips, the barest of touches, that sent an erotic throb through me. This kiss wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t driven by fear or lust or a blind need to be touched. The desire that was building within me as our lips clung for longer and longer was much simpler—I wanted Gabriel’s mouth, and only his mouth, on mine. This lust was pure, unsullied by the circumstances that had driven us together.
Finally, his tongue slicked over mine, and the warm tangle quickened my growing need for him. I tried to pull him even closer, though my movement was restricted by his jacket. It was keeping me warm, even if it was limiting my ability to maul him; however, Gabriel was shivering in spite of having both his goose down coat and me wrapped around him.
“Am I too heavy?” I asked.
“Don’t insult my manliness,” he said, hefting me closer to him and slashing his mouth down over mine. His tongue delved into my mouth, a blatantly possessive action that made my entire body prickle with want, but I was distracted by his trembling again.
“Are you cold then? You’re shivering. We can go back inside.”
“No.” He looked at me then, his skin bathed in moonlight, his eyes molten bronze beneath his hooded gaze. “It’s not the cold. It’s you,” he said, abashed. “It’s because of you.”
The fledgling sensations that had fluttered in my chest during my previous interactions with Gabriel burst into full life then, a phoenix born from the simple realization that I cared for this man and he cared for me.
“I want you to touch me again, Gabriel,” I said, surprised at how husky my voice sounded in the still night air. “I want—”
My words were cut off by a gasp of delight as his hand slid up under my kimono and his fingers found the throbbing warmth between my legs.
“Tell me why you’re not wearing underwear right now,” he de
manded, his voice rough. His fingers slid over my sensitive nub in maddeningly slow strokes. He wasn’t gentle, but the pressure he exerted was just right. My back arched as I pressed down into the voluptuous sensation, but my motion was stopped by the damned jacket. The sensitive peaks of my breasts had brushed against his chest midarch, and I returned to that position, rocking slightly to maximize the glorious duet of pleasure. “I know you were wearing them before, so at some point you decided to take them off. Why?”
“Because when you touched me upstairs, I wished there had been nothing between us,” I answered truthfully. My last words were cut off by a sharp cry—Gabriel pressed my clit harder and circled faster. I’d said the right thing apparently.
“Arden,” he groaned. He nudged my head to the side with his own and then his teeth dragged down the length of my neck, grazing over my skin with just enough pressure to make me both fear the pain of a bite and anticipate it. The pinch of sharp enamel activated some feral part of my lizard brain, and thick shafts of passion surged through me in response. I arched against him again, every muscle in my body tightening and releasing in response to his ministrations.
“So you were planning on seducing me?” he asked against my neck before licking at the place he’d just bitten. The slick passage of his tongue over the sensitized areas initiated pleasurable aftershocks.
“No,” I said. “But I thought about how good it would feel to have you inside me and I didn’t want anything to delay it. I just was trying to be proactive.”
Gabriel’s surprised laugh burst into my mouth as he kissed me. His lips were cold but his tongue was hot as it caressed mine. He stopped circling my clit and slid two fingers into my warmth, the friction of their entry sharp and satisfying. I bucked against him, clutching at his shirt. The focus of my mind narrowed down to the sensation of fullness as his fingers curled inside me.
He repositioned his hand so that his thumb was over my sensitized bundle of nerves, circling it while he thrust his fingers in and out. His mouth ravished mine as he worked me with that expert hand of his, and I cried out sharply as the taut string of desire within me snapped, flooding my body with pulses of euphoria that made my toes cramp. My mind was wonderfully blank as the last vestiges of my climax clamped around his fingers. He slowly withdrew them, leaving me feeling empty despite my satisfaction.
“I think I need to warm you up a little more thoroughly,” he said, securing his hold on me before walking us back inside. He unzipped his jacket and set me down on the floor. My legs were unsteady and I placed a hand against the wall for balance.
“What about Maggie?” I asked, remembering what had driven me out into the night to begin with.
“Maggie is okay except for the monster hangover she’s going to have from mixing booze. We talked a bit, but she ran to go hug the toilet and I decided to let her sleep it off. We’re going to have a serious conversation tomorrow morning.” He prodded me up the stairs ahead of him.
So she hadn’t told him about the bat, about sneaking out of the house.
“But there’s something else you should know,” I said. I turned around to face him. Since I was a couple of steps ahead, I was taller than him for once.
“Something else can wait,” he said. “Everything else can wait.”
“But it’s important,” I whispered. “Really.”
“Trust me, nothing is as important as this right now,” he whispered back, nudging my nose with his. That small, goofy gesture and the way it made me spark with happiness settled it. Nothing could be done with Maggie down for the count anyway, so the unpleasantness could be saved for the morning.
We were at his room then, and this time he didn’t leave me wanting in the hallway. I climbed onto the bed while he lit a candle and placed it on the bedside table, illuminating the small room. It had been converted into a guest room in shades of tan and peach and bore no hint of his personality.
He stood beside the bed, looking down at me with that molten honey gaze of his. His hands moved down the front of his shirt, intent in each controlled twitch of his fingers. I moved to help him undo the buttons, but he shook his head. “Take off the kimono,” he ordered. I would have complied if I could stop staring at him long enough to undress myself.
Although I’d never found the male striptease particularly erotic, Gabriel’s deliberately slow unveiling was the hottest thing I’d ever witnessed. My temperature rose with each newly revealed swath of skin, and heat flared at my core when he finally eased out of his shirt. He was beautiful. Every cut of his abdominal muscles was highlighted by deep shadows, and the sinews and veins of his arms were pronounced in the flickering light. His small, dark nipples stood out against the pale expanse of his chest—there was only the faintest smattering of hair, and something about the smoothness of his well-defined pecs made me want to lick him there.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. He stepped out of his jeans; his gray boxer-briefs were tented at the front, the outline of his arousal beckoning me. I reached for him but stopped when he shook his head.
“Arden.” The censuring tone in his voice sent a thrill through me.
I knew what he wanted.
I kneeled on the bed and untied the kimono slowly, tugging out the belt and dropping it beside me before sliding the silk off my shoulders and letting it pool around me. He grabbed the material in his fist and pulled it away, the drag of silk over my skin a delicious tease that left ripples of bliss in its wake. The kimono hadn’t hit the floor before his hands replaced it, coarse instead of silken against my shoulders, then my breasts, my hips, my ass. His palms traced the outline of my curves, his touch alternating between reverent and rough. It didn’t matter how he touched me, just that he didn’t stop. I didn’t move, or at least I tried not to. I couldn’t control my trembling, or the way my hips bucked when his hands smoothed over my inner thighs.
I leaned forward and kissed his neck, tonguing that sweet hollow I’d so desired to touch earlier. He tasted salty sweet, and addictive. The muscles in his chest tightened and jumped, and I kissed them, too, my tongue darting out to lap at a nipple. He hissed, and I did it again, circling each one before venturing down his flat stomach. I licked over the ridges of his abdominals, exploring every crevice. As I swirled my tongue over the thin trail of hair that led toward his jutting erection, the warmth between my legs thrummed at the promise of fullness to come.
Gabriel’s hands gripped my shoulders. “You don’t have to,” he said, but the hunger in his eyes didn’t match up with his words.
“Have to do this?” I asked, licking at the head of his cock through the fabric that constrained it. There was a wet mark on his boxers now, and it wasn’t only from me. His eyes closed and he held on to me harder, as if he’d fall over backward if he let go.
“I take it back. Do whatever you want,” he said hoarsely.
I swung my legs around the side of the bed so that my face was closer to his groin. My core pulsed with excitement, but I was trying to take this slow. I stroked my hand over the imprint of his shaft and placed my mouth loosely over his head, blowing warm air over it while I stroked him. I teased him, and myself, that way for what seemed like ages, before dragging down his underwear and taking him firmly in hand. I traced the rim of his head with my tongue and then lapped at it with long, flat strokes that let me savor the tangy taste of him.
“Oh, fuck, Arden.” He thrust against my tongue, blindly seeking the warmth of my mouth, and I opened for him. He stilled as my lips slid up and down his shaft. My tongue swirled around his flanged tip. I was working him with steady strokes of my hand when he suddenly pulled himself away from me.
I sat back and frowned.
“Lay back, beautiful.” He fumbled around in the drawer of the nightstand, and I did what he said, my legs dangling over the side of the bed.
The foil of the condom wrapper caught the light before he tore it with his teeth, and I tightened with anticipation as he rolled it down over his penis. I spread my legs, read
y for his entry, but he had other ideas.
He fell to his knees between my legs and threw my thighs over his shoulders before licking into me. I bit back a cry of shocked pleasure as tingling bliss cascaded over me; it was too much, and not enough. His tongue whirled over my hypersensitive nub like a dervish, giving no leeway as he drove me toward the edge. I threaded my fingers in his hair and gripped the wavy strands, pushing him away when the sensation became too intense. His hands squeezed my thighs to hold me in place, but one reached up to pinch at a nipple, rolling the peak while his tongue continued its onslaught. His fingers at my breast and his mouth between my legs took me from slow burn to inferno within moments. Pleasure scorched through my veins.
“Gabe, now. Please, I need you now!”
I was so close, and I wanted to feel him inside me this time. Not his fingers or his tongue, but that thickness that had fueled my fantasies for days.
I tugged at his hair, hard, and he finally relented. I scrambled back on the bed as he stalked toward me on hands and knees, mouth wet and eyes nearly black with passion. Only a thin ring of amber outlined his dilated pupils. I backed up into the headboard and waited for him to come to me, but he stretched his body across the bed and leaned back on his elbows, his member springing proudly from the patch of fine black hair at his groin.
“Ride me, Arden,” he commanded, and I moved toward him, eager to do just that.
“Lazy,” I said softly, resting my hands on his chest as I slowly lowered myself onto him. We both gasped when he pushed into me, the slow friction of his entry the sweetest torture. He leaned up to tease my nipples with his tongue, and I clenched around him, squeezing him with my inner walls. I leaned forward to give him better access to my breasts, and that slight motion changed the angle of entry just enough that he hit a wonderfully sensitive spot deep inside me. I’d thought we’d go slow, but I swallowed a cry as he rocked up into me fast and hard. My nails dug into his arms as I met each stroke, my hips moving in a tight figure-eight motion. His eyes were closed, his mouth slack, his expression one of pure desire.