Chapter 15 Boo
FIFTEEN
BOO
I only hyperventilated a little when I parked my tiny Mirage next to Gabe’s man-mobile in his garage.
This wasn’t bad hyperventilation, like I was scared we were going too fast.
This was good hyperventilation, like I was overjoyed I was parking my little baby next to his sturdy vehicle because I was “home.”
She’s learning, Real Logic said.
No, she’s believing, Dreamer replied.
Truth: I was doing both.
We’d sent our request off to Arthur, given Jinx and the girls a heads-up, planned our next steps with more detail, and now it was nearly midnight.
I was looking at a nice, full, four hours of sleep.
Ugh.
However, this time, I’d packed a bag so I could get ready in the morning at Gabe’s, and I didn’t have to be up at three thirty, nor did he, in order that he had time to take me home so I could get ready.
I hit the garage door opener to close the door, grabbed my purse and my overnighter, and headed out of my car, suddenly exhausted.
The switch-up in my work routine couldn’t happen soon enough, let me tell you.
Though, if Tex, Tito and Lucia were cool with it, I was going to lug my stuff to SC to make the rest of my orders for the week to save that quarter hour of driving and start to get the lay of the land working more fully with Lucia.
Every little bit helped, and no one could be too prepared.
I opened the back door, entered, and saw Gabe, fully clothed, even though it was midnight, heading toward the back hall to greet me.
Fully clothed.
Midnight.
Heading to greet me.
After Mom kicked him out, my dad took off, and never in any meaningful way reentered my life.
He wasn’t there proudly taking pictures of me and my prom date.
He didn’t hand me flowers and give me a kiss on the cheek when I graduated high school.
And he certainly wasn’t there to raise hell when I’d been raked over the red-hot social media coals or to sit me down to lovingly share that Kevin was not the man for me.
And Kevin not only didn’t help when I had booths at farmers markets, electing instead to sleep in to recover from his taxing days doing nothing or hang with his bros.
He also didn’t offer to be designated driver if I was out with my girls, and he sure as shit never waited up for me to get home from anything.
All this hit me so hard, I stopped dead.
Gabe took one more step, then he got a good look at my face, and he stopped dead as well.
I stared at him as it all crashed into me, all at once.
He was up before me to wake me up so I could get to work.
He rinsed his whiskers out of his sink.
He made me a travel mug in the morning.
He picked up my call by the second ring every time.
He didn’t delay in texting back, unless the delay meant he was in his car coming right to me.
He noticed I was exhausted, running on empty, and he did something about it.
He took my back when a member of the Arcadia Squad tried to mess with me.
He bought me Beckett’s Table.
He thought my panda cake was adorable.
He carried me to bed.
And now he was fully clothed, probably just in case the Angels found trouble, he didn’t want to waste any time if I called him because I needed him.
He was ready just in case I needed him.
Fully clothed at midnight, sauntering my way like I was coming in from work at a decent hour, and he was heading in my direction to greet me.
To greet me after we went on a dangerous assignment that night, he knew it, and he didn’t say boo.
Not even boo.
Yes, I belonged to this man. I knew it from the very beginning.
And he belonged to me too.
Without a thought (but even if I had one, I wouldn’t have changed what I did next), I dropped the bag, my purse, raced to him and hit him dead on.
My arms went around his neck.
His arms clamped around me.
He backed me up, turned us and slammed me against the wall.
Mm.
Nice!
Then he kissed me.
That was not nice.
It was sublime.
Like the first one, it went wild instantly.
No exploration. No restraint. It didn’t even start out dry.
It was all wet.
Hungry.
Claiming.
It had been months since the last kiss. So much had happened. We were starved for more, and neither of us hid it.
His arms were crushing me.
My hands were fastened to his head, holding him to me.
We both thrust, sucked, nipped, bit, devoured.
But abruptly, Gabe broke it off, and when he did, I mewed pitifully.
I knew what he was thinking, and he was correct.
No, this wasn’t the right time to do this.
But this was still the time.
Before I could say word one to convince him of this, he took my wrist and held my arm out, then came back in, his shoulder dipped like he was going to make a tackle.
He didn’t tackle.
He hefted me up in a fireman’s hold.
I was already wet, but that made me wetter.
Him stalking toward the stairs with me on his shoulder made me drenched.
He carried me up the stairs, threw me on the bed, and…
Yep.
Now soaked.
He yanked off my booties and socks before I could blink.
I was pushing up, about to help by pulling off my shirt (actually, his shirt), but he put his hands to his own and whipped it off, thus I was confronted with his magnificent chest, so I had no choice but to freeze in order to drink it in.
Gabe didn’t freeze.
He reached, and with maximum contact from the second his hands went under my shirt, he dragged them up my sides from my waist, over my ribs, my arms, which were forced up, and then the shirt was gone.
I shivered in excitement.
But I gasped in delight as he fisted his hand in my hair and he just held me, gazing at him, while the heat of his eyes burned into mine, and then, click, my bra was undone at the back, and swish, with a finger hooked at the front between my breasts, it was yanked off, again my arms moving with it.
Such a smooth, sexy move.
Dayum.
He didn’t even look at my breasts as both hands went to the button on my black jeans.
No.
It was maximum contact again, this time with his eyes.
Good Lord, it was so luscious how he refused to let go of my gaze.
How he made this about me and him, and not my body or just the sex.
Twist and zip, and then my jeans were gone, and he took my panties with them.
I was sitting naked, wet and ready on his bed in front of him, and I had no chance to panic at being exposed like that, like I normally would do.
He straightened, a few flicks at his fly, and his pants were down.
He took his boxer briefs with them.
I had a millisecond to take in all that was Gabriel Stark, there was a lot (a whole lot), and all of it was beautiful (seriously beautiful), before his hands went under my arms, he hauled me deeper in bed, then his weight was on me and his mouth crashed back down on mine.
I went after him.
Everything I could touch, everything I could feel, everything I could taste.
I loved his rough, hairy legs scraping against mine, his furred chest teasing my nipples, his hard cock jabbing against the soft skin of my hip and thigh, the feel of his heated, silky skin over his rock-hard muscle, the dizzying array of swells and dips, planes and angles, the gentle grazing of his beard against my skin.
And he went after me the same way.
It was intense. It was consuming.
It was everything.
Eventually, he kissed and bit and licked his way between my legs.
Okay.
All right.
Yes.
He slung one over his broad shoulder, spread the other one wide (another yes), and no hesitation, went in with his mouth.
Now that was a fuck yes.
No, never.
Not ever was I going to let him shave that…fabulous…beard.
I cupped the back of his head, found purchase with my heel in his back, surged up and moaned.
Gabe went after me down there too.
And, oh yeah, he was good.
God, so…freaking…good.
He licked and ate and sucked, and then he used two fingers to spread me open to lick and eat and suck some more.
I was squirming. Whimpering.
Unravelling.
I was also close.
For sure sensing it (he couldn’t miss it with my wiggling and moaning), he kissed the side of my inner thigh and moved up over me.
I had no idea what possessed me, since I knew he knew I was ready—and man, was I ready—and I felt how ready he was—and he was super ready—but instead of going where Gabe was taking me, I planted a foot in the bed and rolled him.
“Baby,” he murmured, curling up as if to roll us back, but I slid down, my mouth between his bulging pecs, down, my tongue dragging through the pelt on his chest, down, trailing the thick black arrow of hair that guided me to my ultimate goal…and down.
I wrapped my hand around his big, thick dick.
“Christ,” he grunted, immediately inviting me to take it further, spreading his legs and bringing up his knees.
I accepted his invitation, opened my mouth over his cock and wet the tip.
Up.
And down, I wet the tip and an inch below it.
Up.
And down.
I took all of him I could get.
“Christ,” he groaned, the thick sound of his voice egging me on, his fingers sifting into my hair and clenching.
I looked up at him as I bobbed.
Good Lord, this man—my man—was amazing.
He was resting back on one arm, the other hand in my hair, his legs wide, staring at me blowing him with so much heat in his eyes, I felt it burning me, so much hunger, I was trembling, ready to be devoured.
Yes.
This was my man.
Mine.
This was my dick.
Mine.
All of him was…
Mine.
On those glorious thoughts, I looked away and set about concentrating on my task of memorizing every inch of silken skin over engorged flesh, exploring every vein with the tip of my tongue.
I brought my hand into play to stroke as I paid special attention to sucking hard at the tip (and Gabe’s fist tightening in my hair told me he liked it).
Eventually, I used both, drawing up and going down with my mouth and pumping with my hand.
All through this, his fingers in my hair encouraged me. The deep, delicious noises he made invigorated me…
Until they were gone, both his hands were under my arms, I was dragged up, turned, and I was again on my back with Gabe on me.
Right.
Good.