Chapter 22 Lucy
Lucy
I wake wrapped in Gabriel like he's claiming me even in sleep.
One arm circles my waist possessively, the other slides beneath me to curve around my throat, not choking, just holding, like he needs to feel my pulse beneath his palm.
His leg drapes over both of mine, pinning me completely against the solid heat of his chest.
I should feel trapped. After everything I've been through, being held down should trigger every defense mechanism I have.
Instead, I've never felt safer in my life.
Gabriel's breathing is deep and even against my neck, but I can feel him stirring against my ass, thick and hard and ready despite the thorough way he claimed me last night.
The memory of his hands on my body, the way he'd whispered my name like a sacred vow while he moved inside me, sends liquid heat pooling between my thighs.
I shift slightly, just enough to press back against him, testing his boundaries even in sleep.
His arm tightens around my waist in immediate response.
"Careful, trouble," he rumbles against my ear, his voice rough with sleep and barely restrained want. "Keep doing that and you're going to get fucked again."
The threat sends electricity racing through me like I've touched a live wire. I rock back against him again, more deliberately this time, feeling the way his cock twitches against my skin.
Instead of words, I let out a soft, mischievous laugh that tells him exactly what I think of his warning.
His response is immediate and devastating.
In one fluid motion, he rolls me onto my stomach, his hands gripping my hips to pull my ass up while pressing my face gently into the pillow.
The position leaves me completely exposed, completely at his mercy, and the rush of vulnerability mixed with desperate desire makes me dizzy.
"This what you want?" he asks, his palms smoothing over the curves of my ass before spreading me open with possessive hands. "Want me to taste this sweet pussy until you scream my name?"
"Please," I gasp into the pillow, already trembling with anticipation that borders on desperation.
His tongue is hot and wicked as it sweeps through my folds, finding every sensitive spot with the devastating precision of a man who's made it his mission to memorize my body.
He licks me like he's starving, like the taste of me is something he needs to survive another day. When he finds my clit and sucks it between his lips, I cry out and push back against his mouth, chasing more of that perfect pressure.
"That's it," he growls against my core, the vibration sending shockwaves through me. "Take what you need, baby. Show me how much you want it."
He works me with his mouth and fingers until I'm sobbing with pleasure, until my whole body is wound tight as a violin string. When my orgasm crashes over me, I bite down on the pillow to muffle my scream, my body convulsing as wave after wave of sensation washes through me like a riptide.
Before I can even begin to recover, Gabriel's rising behind me, the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance with deliberate intent.
He slides into me in one smooth thrust, filling me so completely I can't tell where I end and he begins, and then his full weight settles over my back as we both sink into the mattress together.
His hand finds my throat again, not squeezing but holding, anchoring me to this moment, to him.
Suddenly I can't move at all, I'm pinned beneath him, surrounded by him, completely at his mercy. It should terrify me, should send my fight-or-flight response into overdrive.
Instead, it makes me feel treasured, protected, like nothing in the world can touch me as long as he's covering me like this.
"You feel that?" he whispers against my ear, his hips moving in slow, torturous circles that make me whimper. "Feel how deep I am? How good you take me?"
I can only make incoherent sounds in response, caught between the exquisite fullness of him inside me and the weight of his body holding me captive.
He starts to move, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with agonizing slowness. Each thrust is deliberate, measured, designed to drive me insane with need.
"Gabriel," I gasp, trying to push back against him, but he holds me still with effortless strength.
"No rushing," he commands, his voice dark with absolute control. "I want to feel every inch of you. Want you to remember exactly who you belong to."
The possessive words combined with his torturously slow pace have me trembling beneath him like a leaf in a storm. He moves inside me like he has all the time in the world, like nothing exists beyond this bed and the connection between our bodies.
The hand at my throat keeps me grounded while the other traces patterns on my hip, anchoring me to him, to this moment, to the promise of belonging to someone again.
"Come for me," he orders when I'm shaking with desperate need, his rhythm finally increasing. "Let me feel you fall apart around my cock."
The command breaks me completely. I shatter beneath him with a cry that tears from my throat, my inner walls clenching around him as pleasure consumes every nerve ending.
Gabriel follows me over the edge with a growl that sounds like my name, his hips jerking as he spills himself deep inside me, his weight pressing me further into the mattress as he claims every inch of my soul.
We stay connected for long moments afterward, both of us breathing hard, his body still covering mine protectively. When he finally shifts to gather me against his side, I feel the loss of his weight like a physical ache.
"You okay?" he asks softly, his fingers combing through my hair with infinite gentleness.
"Perfect," I whisper, and I mean it more than I've ever meant anything.
In his arms, I feel whole in a way I haven't since before my mother died. Safe and cherished and exactly where I belong.
We drift in comfortable silence, his hands mapping lazy patterns on my skin while I trace the scars on his chest. Small imperfections that tell the story of a man who's spent his life protecting others, putting himself between danger and the people he's sworn to serve.
My fingers explore the ridged muscle of his abdomen, the way his skin stretches taut over his ribs when he breathes. There's a thin white line along his collarbone that feels raised under my touch, and when I trace it, his breath hitches slightly.
"Afghanistan," he says quietly, understanding my unspoken question. "Shrapnel from an IED that took out our convoy."
I press my lips to the scar, tasting salt and something uniquely him. "Does it hurt?"
"Not in the way it used to." His smile is soft, vulnerable. "I learned to live with it. Most days, I forget it's there."
"I won't forget," I murmur, kissing it again, lingering this time. "Every scar has a story. I like yours."
The vulnerability in his admission makes my chest tight with emotion I'm not ready to name. Here's this strong, controlled man letting me see pieces of himself he probably doesn't share with anyone.
I look up at him, taking in the way the morning light catches the silver threads in his dark hair, the laugh lines around his blue eyes that speak of better times before whatever hardened him into the careful man he's become.
The moment stretches between us, loaded with things neither of us is ready to say but both of us feel. Finally, Gabriel glances at the clock on his nightstand and sighs with obvious reluctance.
"I need to shower," he says eventually, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of my head. "Got to be at the station in an hour. Paperwork on the Cutter arrest won't file itself."
I want to protest, want to keep him here in this perfect bubble we've created where the outside world can't touch us, but I know duty calls. It always does with Gabriel. "Go," I tell him, stealing one more kiss before he reluctantly disentangles himself from my limbs.
I watch him walk naked to the bathroom, admiring the play of muscles across his back and the confident way he moves.
When the shower starts, I slip from bed and pull on the first thing I find, a discarded T-shirt on the chair. It falls to my knees, smelling like him.
In the kitchen, I find Tyson sprawled in a patch of morning sunlight streaming through the windows, his massive head lifting hopefully when he sees me.
"Sorry, handsome," I tell him, scratching behind his ears until his tail thumps forgiveness. "I know I've been neglecting you for the sexy sheriff, but you're still my favorite boy."
I let him out for his morning patrol of Gabriel's property before starting the coffee, falling into a domestic routine that feels dangerous in its normalcy.
It's only been a few days since I started staying here, but already this house feels more like home than anywhere I've lived since my mother died.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it fills me with a longing so acute it takes my breath away.
I'm measuring coffee grounds when Gabriel appears in the kitchen doorway, hair still damp from his shower, wearing fresh jeans and a navy button-down that he's still fastening.
Even the simple act of watching him get dressed feels intimate, domestic, like maybe this could be my life if I were brave enough to reach for it.
He moves closer, his presence filling the kitchen like he owns not just the space but the very air in it. When he stops just close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes, the air between us crackles with electricity.
"You keep looking at me like that," he says quietly, his gaze dropping to my mouth, "and I'm going to be late for work."
"Like what?" I whisper, even though I know exactly what he means. I'm looking at him like I want to taste every inch of his skin, like I want to hear again the sounds he makes when he completely loses that iron control.
Instead of answering, he steps closer, one hand bracing against the counter beside my hip while the other cups my cheek. His thumb traces my lower lip, and I can see the moment he decides to stop fighting whatever this magnetic pull is between us.
"Like you want me to bend you over this counter and remind you exactly how I can make you scream," he growls, his voice dropping to something dark and promising.
The words send fire racing through my veins like whiskey. I rise on my toes, drawn to him by forces beyond my control, and he leans down to meet me halfway.
Our lips are almost touching, our breath mingling in the space between want and surrender, when the sound of gravel crunching under tires shatters the moment.
We spring apart like we've been burned, both of us turning toward the window with the guilty reflexes of teenagers caught by parents.
Through the kitchen window, I can see Colt's truck pulling up next to Gabriel's patrol car, dust swirling in its wake like a small tornado. Beau's in the passenger seat, and my heart starts hammering against my ribs as I watch both men climb out.
Colt bends down near Gabriel's car and picks up something from the gravel, shaking his head with what looks like disbelief mixed with amusement.
When he straightens, I can see he's holding pieces of fabric that I realize with mortification are the clothes Gabriel and I abandoned in our desperate haste last night.
My face burns hot enough to fry eggs.
"Shit," I breathe, pressing my hands to my flaming cheeks.
"Should have known they wouldn't stay away," Gabriel says, his voice carrying equal parts amusement and territorial satisfaction as he moves to open the front door.
Colt's voice drifts through the house before they even step inside, thick with dry sarcasm that doesn't quite hide something sharper underneath. "Hope you made enough coffee for everyone, Sheriff. Found some interesting evidence in your driveway that suggests you had a very eventful evening."
My stomach drops to somewhere around my ankles.
Here I am, barefoot in Gabriel's kitchen, wearing nothing but his shirt, probably looking like I've been thoroughly fucked. Which, let's be honest, I have been. Multiple times.
Colt appears in the kitchen doorway behind Gabriel, pieces of our discarded clothing dangling from his fingers like trophies, his grin pure trouble but his green eyes carrying an edge I can't quite read.
"Well, well," Colt says, his gaze lingering on my bare legs just a little too long, the sarcasm in his voice sharp enough to cut.
Something dark flickers across Beau's face. A muscle in his jaw ticking with what looks suspiciously like jealousy barely held in check. His hands clench at his sides, and I catch the way his eyes track the length of Gabriel's shirt on my body like he's memorizing every detail.
Gabriel's expression shifts in response, becomes something darker and more possessive as he notices the way both men are looking at me. His blue eyes narrow slightly, and I catch the way his own hands tense at his sides, like he's fighting the urge to step between me and their hungry gazes.
The words hang in the air like a challenge, loaded with everything that's been building between all of us for weeks.
My instincts are screaming at me to run, to find an escape route before this powder keg explodes. But my feet stay rooted to the floor, caught between three different kinds of want burning in their eyes.
Gabriel's protective possession, radiating from him like heat waves.
Colt's hungry desire, barely leashed behind that devil-may-care grin.
Beau's frustrated longing, all the more powerful for being so carefully controlled.
And for the first time, it feels like we're all seeing this situation for exactly what it is. Without pretense, without hiding, without the careful dance we've been doing around each other.
The air crackles with tension and possibility and the promise of something that could either destroy us all or set us free from the careful boundaries we've been pretending exist.
I take a shaky breath, my heart hammering so hard I'm sure they can all hear it, and realize that whatever happens next, there's no going back to the way things were.
The careful game we've been playing just became very, very real.