by Nicole Helm
She squirmed, unable to stop herself, but Gabe held her firm and still and she had to grab on to the sheets to stop from…something. Something.
“Gabe…”
But he didn’t stop. If anything, he only focused harder until that last wave seemed to break, a spiraling crash of a million sensations she could only let roll over her, a perfect kind of drowning.
“Okay,” she managed, her voice a scratchy thing as she tried to stop panting. “This time I am going to definitely and without reservation say wow.”
He laughed, dragging the sound and feel of it against her body as he moved up until she was completely covered by six-foot-a-lot of former Navy SEAL. She sighed happily, winding her arms around him.
He nuzzled into her neck, as though content to simply lie there as her heartbeat and breathing slowly came back to normal. She could tell certain parts of him were not content, were hard against her, and yet he made no move for himself.
She trailed her fingers over the soft bristle of his short hair, down the surprisingly smooth skin of his neck, to the scarred shoulder.
She traced the outline of a tattoo that must have predated his scars. “It’s a bird,” she murmured, angling her head to get a better look.
“Mm.”
“What’s it mean?”
“That I sailed a lot,” he said, his voice muffled against her neck.
“Really?”
“More or less.”
“But why not an anchor or rope or some other such thing? A boat? One of those captain wheel things?” She traced the outline of the bird, the slash of a scar through its wing and a blotch of pale skin as though part of the tattoo had simply been burned off.
The idea made her gut clench. Even knowing about the accident that Gabe had been a part of, seeing it marked across his body when they were naked together was something completely different.
“I might have been a sailor, but I like the idea of being free to fly wherever.” His hand slid down her side, slow and gentle, a sensuous glide at odds with the way those words seemed so emotionally honest it took her breath away.
“Gabe,” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Get the condom.”
The expediency with which he followed that order was truly something to behold. He had the package open and the latex rolled on before she could scarcely blink.
Then he simply paused, hovering over her. This beautiful specimen of a man. Muscles and scars and that wicked mouth. It might all have been enough. If she’d been desperate and wanting to experience something she’d denied herself for a decade, she might have seen him in a bar and needed only that smile, that body. Maybe it was possible to want this when only looks were involved.
But the feeling inside of her, the need inside of her, was tied up in Gabe’s big heart. That was what made it possible to give this piece of herself to him, to take a piece from him. The muscles certainly didn’t hurt. The way he looked at her like she was some precious gift didn’t hurt at all. But it was the whole—the attraction and the heart.
It was in this moment, more than the rest, that she knew things were going to be so much trickier than she’d given them credit for. She didn’t know anything about sex without love, but she didn’t think it felt like this. Like her chest would burst with anticipation and it would be worth it. Like she wanted to live in the moment forever, just him naked and hovering over her. Beautiful and sweet.
Too many emotions swirled around her—new feelings and old familiar ones she was afraid to give any room to. Too many worries and too much confusion lived in those old feelings showing up here and now. Because there was no part of her that wanted to stop. No retreat. She wanted him and this more than she wanted or was able to listen to any reasonable thought in her head.
“You okay?” he asked gruffly, positioned there between her thighs, gorgeous and more than ready.
“I’m amazing. And very much enjoying the view.” Her voice was scratchy, and maybe her somewhat-teary eyes gave her away, but he acted as though he didn’t notice.
He grinned. “The view from here isn’t so bad either.”
She reached out and touched his face. It was supposed to be sex. It was supposed to be simply about attraction and acting upon it, and yet even with a new blaze of fiery passion igniting inside of her, she touched him with all the gentleness inside of her. All the sweetness.
So much about Gabe was hard and sharp, and she wondered if he had any gentleness in his life at all. She wanted to be the source of it. All of it. Selfishly, she wanted to be the only one who gave him that.
She traced his jaw with her fingers, and he leaned forward, into the contact. His palms were planted next to her shoulders, and he held himself above her, but his eyelids fluttered closed as she continued to trace the lines of his face. She sighed over the prickly scrape of his whiskers against the pads of her fingers.
He lowered his mouth to her shoulder, pressing a kiss there. Unbearably sweet. But with that unbearably sweet motion, he positioned himself at her entrance, slowly nudging inside.
She’d forgotten what this felt like. The slow invasion of someone else becoming a part of her. That feeling of being full and connected, physically and more. The way it ignited sparks of pleasure and desire. She had forgotten all that, and even as it swept over her, as he swept over her, she couldn’t remember what sex had ever been like before.
There was only this. There was only Gabe. He was all that existed—in this room, around her, inside her.
She simply let herself go. She didn’t worry about control or what he was feeling, she just let herself be a part of it. The sweet, slick slide of desire. The giddy pride over being the source of his ragged breath against her skin. The way the pleasure and the need for release could coil deep inside of her again, almost sharper and harder this time because he was so deep inside of her.
Each stroke was a slow, agonizing glimpse of what she was after. That edge, that fall, all the release that awaited her after this buildup.
She whispered his name against his mouth before kissing him softly, and it broke something inside of him. His kiss became fierce. Teeth and growls. His grip on her hip was now an iron-hard band that might leave marks.
And she loved it. Reveled in it. Wanted more of this rough, untethered side of him.
“More,” she urged. She deserved so much more. She deserved it all, every which way she could get it. She’d been alone so long, and now she wasn’t. Maybe this was temporary, but she would take every last second and everything she wanted out of it.
“More. More.”
On the third more, she found herself being maneuvered, somehow flipped over and splayed on top of him. She blinked at his chest, shocked beyond words he was still deep inside of her.
“You want more,” he said, his voice and its dark, dangerous edge. “Take more.”
It took a few seconds to truly have those words penetrate. To understand what he meant. What he was offering.
Gabe fancied himself something of a broken, selfish man, but he was none of those things. Even in this temporary get-it-out-of-our-systems moment, he was offering what she wanted. She needed. He would enjoy it too, but it wasn’t the same as just going after whatever he wanted.
She placed her palms on his chest and moved into a sitting position. His eyes glittered, and his hands came to her hips, clamping there again. She moved her body forward, and he hissed out a breath.
She was affecting him, torturing him maybe, and there was such an amazing power in that. It gave her a patience she didn’t know she was capable of—and maybe she only had it because he employed it on her. She’d absorbed his ability to draw out a moment until it nearly hurt, until you thought you would break.
And then you did.
She moved slow, so slow she nearly hated herself, but every time he gasped, as his breath went fro
m shallow to panting, something new and brighter sparkled to life inside of her.
“Monica,” he murmured, hushed and holy, like a prayer. Then he mumbled something that sounded like a please. It crackled through her like lightning. Like power.
She leaned forward, breasts brushing his chest, mouth going to his ear. “Are you begging me?” she whispered.
He laughed so dark and edgy, it sent a shudder of anticipation through her. The kind of shudder that felt almost like fear, except she was too excited, too far gone to ever be afraid.
“Baby, I never beg.” He held her hips hard and tight, moving himself slow and deep inside of her. “But you might be a first,” he said on a loud exhale.
The power, no matter how much of a lie it might have been, coursed through her at his words. Almost as if he’d known it would eradicate all the patience she’d been using.
She moved against him, faster and faster, chasing her own pleasure as though it were the answer to all of life’s problems. When the orgasm rushed over her, hard and shuddering, she barely noticed Gabe’s fingers digging tighter into her hips as he arched up into her, growling low and feral.
She collapsed forward on the wide, hard expanse of his chest. Remembering the way he’d covered her before, she attempted to do the same to him. She stretched out and then pressed her nose into his neck and kissed the underside of his jaw.
“I guess it’s my turn to say wow,” he offered, his hand gently brushing up and down her back.
She managed to chuckle. “You damn well better.”
She wanted to lie here for possibly ever. Happily sated and warm and in Gabe’s arms. On top of him as if she had bested him in some way. No, she didn’t want to leave this place.
But he was probably uncomfortable and maybe she shouldn’t be a needy post-sex cuddler. She didn’t know what casual sex was like. As the lingering edge of her orgasm began to wear off, anxiety crept in. They did have to spend a lot of their future lives dealing with each other, and she didn’t want to be the silly, desperate-for-more-of-him woman.
But as she made a move to get off of him, his arms only tightened around her so that she couldn’t move.
Her body immediately relaxed. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. But for right now, in this moment, he wanted her there, and she wanted to be there. She was going to let that be comfort enough.
Chapter 16
Gabe had no idea what had possessed him to hold her there. Sure, she felt amazing on top of him. Like heaven. Like one million things he hadn’t had in forever. Or forever period.
He had to let her go. Partly because this was all too much and partly because he wanted more than he could ever allow himself to have.
Still he didn’t let her go. How could he when she sighed happily into his neck? When her fingers traced gentle, soothing patterns over his arms. She had no qualms about touching his scars or his burn marks. He hadn’t been with all that many women since he’d gotten them, and most of his partners had avoided them. Because sex then had just been…sex.
He squeezed his eyes shut and finally allowed his arms around her to loosen. “I should take care of the condom.”
She rolled off him fast as a shot. As though the words had broken her from some trance. Some trance he wished she would’ve stayed in.
“Bathroom’s in the hallway. You can’t miss it,” she said, weirdly overbright about the whereabouts of her bathroom.
He nodded and slid out of bed. He didn’t bother for clothes at this point. The fire was high and crackling, he was warmed all over, and she’d seen it all.
He entered the hall and the first doorway was open but dark. Still, he could make out a window, maybe the corner of some furniture. Definitely not a bathroom.
Colin’s bedroom—a stark reminder of so many things. Because he liked the kid, but he knew what being the kid of a single mother was like. He was aware of all the complications that came with your mom having relationships. If Colin ever found out about this…
Gabe couldn’t even let himself think about it. How it might sour Colin’s opinion of him. How it might change everything.
One of the things he liked so much about Monica was that she was a good mom. She would never, ever make Colin feel like a second-class citizen in his own home, but it could still change how Colin saw Gabe.
If Gabe was stupid enough to think this could go somewhere, he would be the second-class citizen. Yet again. Colin would always be first.
Which was right and good. It amazed him there was a mother out there like that. He hadn’t believed it.
Gabe couldn’t live that kind of life again, second fiddle to everyone else. It broke too many things, and he couldn’t bring himself to pretzel into a million pieces trying to fill those cracks only to lose. He would always lose.
Gabe forced himself away from Colin’s bedroom and found the bathroom. He got rid of the condom, trying not to dwell on the sex any more than he had just dwelled on idiot thoughts and what-ifs.
But the thoughts came at him anyway. How sex with Monica was somehow different than any other sex he’d had. He’d known on a kind of mental level that sex could be different. After all, there had to be some reason Alex and Becca wanted to be married to each other for the rest of their lives. Jack wanted to similarly shackle himself to Rose. Gabe understood there had to be something special about a relationship, even if he never wanted one.
But now he understood all that on a visceral level. Sex might be the same act regardless, but it didn’t involve the same feelings. It didn’t involve the same tangle of emotions afterward. When it was with someone you didn’t really care about, it was all transaction. You got what you wanted—and that was nice.
But it wasn’t like this. It didn’t fulfill or light up the world. It didn’t infuse hope where hope had no business being.
Gabe caught his reflection in the mirror. He could see the panic in his own expression and knew he had to get a handle on it before he returned to Monica. This was supposed to be a casual thing. There were no other options beyond getting sex out of their systems.
Getting it out of his system was never actually going to happen. She’d gone on about how they’d already kissed and how could the wondering be worse than the doing.
Oh. It was worse. So much worse.
He had to get a handle on his shit. There was no way he was going to let her see what a mess he was. How this had worked through him and changed him somehow. He felt like a different man. He didn’t like this new man. He wanted nothing to do with this vulnerable sad sack.
He looked away from the mirror and mechanically turned off the light. He counted the steps from the bathroom back to the living room, finding a center in the numbers.
She was snuggled under those ridiculous gingerbread man sheets, her hair a tangled mess, golden and youthful. She had this self-satisfied smile on her face that unwound all of the crazy emotions inside of him.
At least until she aimed it at him.
“I should probably go.” It sounded overloud in the quiet room, even with the crackling of the fire and the faint sounds of Christmas music still playing. “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”
He grimaced.
She didn’t say anything to his proclamation. In fact, nothing about her changed exactly. She was lying there still.
He felt as though he needed to defend himself against something, which was stupid because he should go. That was the deal. Sex. Not sleeping together. “They’re going to ask where I was if I don’t get back tonight. You didn’t want anyone knowing about this.”
“No, I didn’t,” she said slowly, carefully.
What the hell was she being careful about? He didn’t want to know. “So, I should go.” He moved stiffly for his clothes. She just lay there, watching him, and he didn’t know what to say, so he got dressed. Avoiding eye contact.
Like a pussy
.
“This was fun,” he offered. Lamely.
“It was fun.” She moved up onto her elbows. “We should, uh, do it again. You know, before Christmas. Just to ensure we do the things we, uh, didn’t get to.”
This side of her, unsure but braving through things anyway, utterly undid him. He found her completely irresistible even in the midst of his own slight break with sanity.
“Well, you’ve got me curious. What kind of things?”
She raised that chin as primly as a woman wrapped up in gingerbread men could be. “You know what kind of things far better than I do.”
“You sound like you have a few ideas in your head of other things we could do.”
She tried to scowl at him, but it failed, curving up at the edges. That always undid him too, little glimpses at her humor.
Every single cell in his body wanted to shuck his clothes and get back in that bed and do all those things tonight, all night long. He couldn’t imagine that being good for either of them. He had to go.
“How about tomorrow night?”
She nodded, smiling. “I’ll be here, so just whenever.”
“Will there be more cookies?”
“Undoubtedly,” she returned with mock seriousness.
“I’ll be here then.” He moved for his boots, and he watched her out of the corner of his eye as she grabbed her clothes and got dressed.
“I don’t have any nicer underwear. Just FYI.”
Gabe had no idea where that remark could have come from, and he tried not to look at her like she was crazy. “I don’t really care much about your underwear, Monica. I’m far more interested in what’s under it.”
“Well, that’s…good. I just… You know, when you’re a single mom, there’s no reason for pretty, lacy underwear. Except this kind of reason, and I don’t usually have this kind of reason, so—”
“I don’t care about your underwear. Period.”
She gave him a sharp nod. “Got it.” She tried to smile, but it was all twisted, and somehow that twisted him. An aching, awful thing.