Boyfriend in a Bottle
Page 7
Four years, and who would have thought she still had so much emotion left in her? So much bloody anger and despair. Yes, he may have come back six months later, but by then it was already too late. She’d met Grant and tried to move on with her life.
“I destroyed me too,” Gabe whispered.
“Shut up,” she snapped. “You don’t get to have a say now. You don’t get to tell me how you felt. You’re four years too bloody late for that.”
She raised her arm to strike him again, but before her hand found its target, he acted. In less time than it took to blink, Tina hung suspended in space, her legs dangling uselessly below her. Gabe had her caught between his body and the wall. His chest pressed into hers, flattening her breasts against his pecs, against a barrier of super hard male flesh. His thigh was wedged between her legs, holding her up, pushing against her groin, making even the slightest move an exquisite form of torture. And his mouth was inches, centimeters, from hers. So close the rasping heat of his breath warmed her lips, tickled her nose and sent a blast of half-crazed lust careening down her spine.
“You were my world, T. But you were Connor’s first. I didn’t have a choice.” He thrust his thigh up, and she battled against him.
Oh, holy hell. She needed to stop struggling. The sensations smashing through her and lighting up her core had her writhing with need. Either she had to quit struggling—or she needed to go to war with him. All-out war, which would have only one result. An orgasm. And a damn hard one if her current state of desire was anything to go by.
“We all have choices,” she bit back and then added for good measure, “Sometimes we just make the wrong ones.”
“You think I don’t know how bad my decision was?” Gabe’s voice was hoarse, the look in his eyes tortured. “You think I didn’t spend the last three and a half years in hell wondering how you were? If you were married? Happy?” He ground his thigh against her pussy, and she bit back a whimper. “You think this is what I want? My leg here? Fuck, T, I want my whole body between your legs. I want…” He closed his eyes and groaned. “I want to be inside you. So goddamned deep inside you I lose myself. I want…need to feel your warm pussy wrapped around me, pulling me in deeper and deeper…”
Tina gulped, because now that he’d voiced it out loud, she wanted the very same thing. She had a maddening compulsion to tear off her clothes and his, draw him down to the floor and envelop his hard length with her pussy.
He dropped his head, resting his forehead against hers, taking in great gulps of air. She sucked in the air he exhaled, greedy for anything of his to become a part of her.
His voice was erotic as sin as he panted out, “Need to…make love…to you.”
She dissolved. Any reluctance that might have prevented her from responding dissipated in his words, in his raw desire for her. Her eyelids drooped, her lips parted, and she raised her chin to meet his mouth in the inevitability of a kiss. More than her next breath, she wanted his mouth on hers.
Which made the resounding thud beside her left ear all the more shocking.
Gabe pounded the wall with his fist. Once, twice and a third time. With a strangled moan he dropped his thigh and drew away from Tina. He did not release her until her feet touched the ground.
With legs as useless as rubber, she slid weightlessly down the wall, her knees caving beneath her, and came to rest in a shapeless lump on the carpeted floor.
Gabe prowled her lounge, a veritable giant amongst her furniture. He drew to a halt against the wall opposite her, hit it once and then dropped to the floor as well.
For endless moments he stared at her, his eyes hooded, his mouth drawn. The sound of heavy breathing echoed in her ears. His? Hers? She had no idea. Her heart slammed into her ribs, her lungs seeking oxygen in the airless room.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I…shouldn’t have done that.”
She waited until she was sure she could string a sentence together. “I…shouldn’t have hit you.” Yet even with the acknowledgement her hand still curled into a fist, the dull ache in her knuckles nothing compared to the need to lash out at him again.
He stared at her fist and raised an eyebrow. The look on his face might have been skeptical—if longing and naked desire hadn’t shadowed his eyes. “But you’re not sorry you did.”
She forced her fingers to straighten. “You hurt me, Gabe.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“I wanted to…hurt you back.”
Another nod. “That’s okay.” He slumped against the wall and let his arms drop to his sides. “I won’t respond this time. I swear.” He kept his gaze level with hers. “Come at me. Hurt me as much as you need to.”
Instinct made her hands curl into fists again, but this time, Tina restrained herself. If she went at him now she’d last maybe three seconds before her blows turned to caresses. Instead of inflicting pain she’d draw relief from touching his skin. If she so much as tapped a finger to his flesh now, she’d be naked and begging for more before Gabe had time to register what had—or hadn’t—hit him.
She bit back a frustrated cry. “I just want…” Her voice trailed off. “I want… I need…” She shook her head, unable to put words to her thoughts.
“What is it, T? Tell me. Anything you want. Anything. It’s yours.”
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