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Gabriel
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One minute, he’d been on the other side of the room. The next, he was right there behind her, wanting to . . . what? Offer reassurance? Comfort? But, as she turned and looked up at him with those pretty eyes, he wanted to give her something more than reassurance or comfort.
The air sizzled and crackled between them, thick with promise. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. Could have listed a dozen reasons why kissing her was a bad, bad idea. And yet, he just couldn’t help himself.
He lowered his head and closed those last few inches. Her eyes remained open, watching with rapt attention as he did. She offered no resistance. Not a hint of protest.
No, what he saw was so much more powerful: anticipation and a reflection of the desire burning hot in his blood.
His lips brushed against hers, a tentative, exploratory kiss. Only then did her eyes drift shut and a noise, a soft, feminine hum, reached his ears. Such a subtle, quiet sound, yet it fired through his body, creating arcs of sensation from the point of contact, down through his chest, and right to his groin. She stepped closer, fitting her body against his until he felt the warm press of her breasts on his chest and the tender flesh of her belly on his rigid cock.
A simple brush-by wasn’t going to cut it. He needed more.
He traced his tongue along the seam of her lips, deepening the kiss the moment she parted for him. The sweetness of berries and syrup exploded on his tongue and this time, he was the one who hummed in pleasure. The woman was pliant and delicious and it had been far too long since he’d felt or tasted anything so good.
Her arms snaked up around his neck, pulling herself upward and him downward, as if she, too, needed more. Gabe was totally on board with that. His hands moved down her back, pausing at the top of her hips to press her against the hard, aching part of him that wanted in on the action. She gasped into his mouth, then rolled her hips in what he took as approval.
Fuck, yes, that felt good. He wanted more. So much more. Visions of her naked beneath him as he lost himself inside her heat assaulted him, each more powerful than the last.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a warning bell tolled. He was rapidly approaching red line territory, the point of no return.
“Virginia,” he warned, pulling away just enough to break the kiss. Blood thundered through his veins, his heart pounded wildly in his chest. “We shouldn’t do this.”
She growled in protest, scraping her nails against his scalp as she reached for more. “I know. I don’t care.”
Then one of the hands that had been at his nape was raking down his chest, slipping between them to squeeze him through his pants, and fuck if he didn’t see stars flashing in front of his eyes.
“I want this. You want this.” Her teeth scraped against his jawline, then nipped at his neck. “We’re mature . . .” nip “consenting . . .” lick “adults.” She followed those words with a stronger bite.
“Fuck.”
She smirked, her eyes heavy-lidded and sultry as she slipped her hand into his pants and wrapped her fingers around him.
He could have stopped her. He was bigger. Stronger. Skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Somewhere a vague echo of protest suggested he should, but it was growing ever fainter beneath the increasingly loud chant of yes, yes, yes.
“Please, Gabe.”
It was her quiet plea that ultimately broke his resolve. Between one heartbeat and the next, his hands were on her ass and her feet were off the ground. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and they were moving toward the bed.
Desire rode him hard, but he forced it back. They weren’t kids at the mercy of their raging hormones. He was a highly trained SEAL commander with decades of discipline and experience to draw upon, and she, she was a woman who deserved to benefit from all that.
He took his time, unwrapping her like a precious gift while allowing her to do the same. They kissed, they touched, they explored, drawing upon one another to make it last. Their foreplay became a tortuous, teasing game of exquisite give and take. He’d always been a generous lover; finding a woman who was just as generous and attentive made the experience even better.
“Fuck, Virginia, I don’t have a condom.”
“I don’t either.” She sounded just as disappointed as he felt. “But I’m clean. I can’t get pregnant. And I haven’t had sex in more than ten years.”
Her words shocked and thrilled him. It hadn’t been quite as long for him, but it was damn close and he knew he was good. “Me, too.”
“Then don’t stop.”
When he finally slid into her, her cry of relief made the effort worth every agonizing second.
She gripped him tightly, sheathing him with her hot, wet heat. Her nails dug into his back, and her heels pressed into his ass as she arched to take him further.
He paused, savoring the sensation, taking the opportunity to kiss her some more. He could feel her flexing around him, doing the same. There was something to be said for experience and maturity, and a woman who knew exactly what she wanted was damn sexy.
He was close, so very close, but he would draw it out, make it last. As he stared into her eyes, he knew she understood.
They made love slowly, languorously, savoring every touch, every stroke, every kiss. When her body began to tense, he quickened his pace. She came a few heartbeats before he did, the tightening of her muscles around him as he spilled into her providing the perfect ending to an unexpected afternoon of bliss.
He looked down into her face. Her eyes were closed, a smile of contentment curling her lips. Unwilling to move just yet, he remained where he was, supporting some of his upper body weight on his arms while pressing gentle kisses to her cheeks and lips.
“That was amazing,” she said without opening her eyes. “You are amazing.”
A wave of smug, male satisfaction washed over him. “You’re pretty amazing yourself.”
He rolled them in a swift, smooth move, keeping them joined. Her soft, sated weight felt good on him. He took the opportunity to stroke her back from neck to hips, feeling the ridges of raised scar tissue beneath his fingers, presumably remnants from the accident that nearly killed her. He’d already committed them to memory.
“Do they bother you?” she asked lazily, tucked in against his collarbone.
“No,” he answered honestly. “Do my scars bother you?”
He felt her grin against his skin. “No. I think they’re hot.” Virginia picked her head up, then folded her arms over his chest and rested her chin on them. “There something incredibly sexy about a man who’s not afraid to fight for what he believes is right and has the scars to prove it.”
Her words were nice to hear, but he knew better than to trust them. He’d heard similar things before. It was no secret that a lot of women liked Navy SEALs, and some went to great lengths to bag one. Some guys capitalized on that, but not him. He’d had a few meaningless hook-ups when he’d been young and stupid, enough to know they didn’t do anything more than highlight the emptiness of it.
Virginia was no frog hog, and he was no twenty-something in his prime, though he was still in pretty good shape. Dare he think her attraction went beyond the hard body and aura of strength and danger, and into the soul of the man at the heart of it all?
“What do you do,” she asked softly, “when you’re not working?”
“I’ve got a little place in the mountains,” he confided before he could think better of it. “There’s a lake there. Great fishing. Plenty of game in the woods, too. It’s remote. Quiet.”
“Sounds like paradise,” she hummed. “Why would you ever want to leave that?”
Vengeance, he thought, but didn’t say so. He didn’t have to.
“This is more than just a job to you, isn’t it?” she asked, looking deep into his eyes. “This mission, it’s personal.”
“Yes,” he agreed. This was about taking advantage of a rare opportunity to bring Darius Kristikos down. To finally mete out some long-overdue justice on the man responsible for the deaths of so many good men and women.
“Hey. Where did you just go?” she asked softly. Her thumb came up and trailed over his brow in gentle, smooth strokes. It felt good. “Regrets already?”
“None,” he answered, which wasn’t exactly true, but he’d analyze those later.
“Good.” She rose up and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “I guess you’re just not much for pillow talk, huh.”
She was wrong about that. He wanted to tell her everything while she lay warm and naked on top of him. Wanted her to understand why it was so important he find Christos.
He wouldn’t do that, though. She would probably hate him for it, and he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. He loved the feel of her body against his. Wanted to keep her right where she was until he recovered enough to start all over again.
But those were dangerous thoughts. Sex was one thing. He could rationalize that, chalk it up to physical attraction between two mature, consenting adults and a mutual desire for temporary, shared intimacy. This ever-growing sense of rightness was something else entirely.
She pulled away, letting him slip from her body. He had to fight the urge to pull her right back.
“For the record, I don’t have any regrets either,” she said over her shoulder as she walked into her bathroom and closed the door. He heard the shower come on and thought briefly of joining her, then decided against it.
Their moment, as glorious as it had been, was over.
~ * ~
Virginia
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Virginia let the hot water sluice over her skin, half-hoping Gabe would join her, half-hoping he wouldn’t. As much as she had enjoyed the last few hours, she needed some time to recover, both mentally and physically. There were parts of her that still tingled, others that were deliciously tender. And one part that was in danger of losing itself to him, which she absolutely could not allow.
It wasn’t anything he would want, anyway. Especially if he knew the truth.
She’d have to be content with the great sex. Gabriel Michaels was a superb lover. Tender, but intense. Extremely focused. Very generous and meticulously attentive, noting every moan, every quiver, and using it to give her exactly what she needed.
And she had needed it. For more than ten years she’d gone without the touch of a man. Thankfully, she couldn’t have asked for a better way to break the dry spell.
She completed her shower alone, which was probably for the best. Things were already complicated enough; there was nothing to be gained by trying to turn it into something more than it was. In another time, another place, they might have had a chance at something, but not here, and not now. A sequence of events had been put in motion, things she couldn’t stop, not even for him.
When she emerged from the bathroom, Gabe was gone. So was Fred.
Fred had been in her room for only twelve hours. Gabe, far less than that. Yet the room felt empty without them.
Her stomach rumbled, a purely physical reminder that she hadn’t eaten much. The waffles were now cold and soggy. It didn’t matter; they’d soaked up the flavors of the fresh fruit, whipped cream, and maple syrup they’d been topped with, a taste she would now associate with Gabe’s skillful lips and tongue as he’d given her what she’d needed. She had a few more bites, then packed up the remains and tossed them into the trash, along with any of the ridiculous, romantic notions that tried to take hold.
One way or another, this would all be over soon.