17. Havoc
Havoc
Her gaze drops.
My breath catches when she reaches for my jeans, and I groan when her hand slips inside the open zipper and she traces the outline of my dick over my briefs.
“Gabby.”
Her eyes lift to mine. There’s a flicker of satisfaction there.
Little fucking tease knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
I reach for her again, fingers hooking into the waistband of her pants.
“Wait.”
Everything inside me stops.
Immediately.
My hands go still. Monster quiets too.
“What is it?” I search her face, every trace of teasing gone. “Did I hurt you?”
The idea infuriates me.
Not at her.
At myself.
At the possibility that I could’ve gotten so caught up in wanting her that I missed something.
“No!” She shakes her head quickly. “It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
Her confidence falters. Just a little.
But I see it.
Gabby glances away from me, and suddenly the woman who has gone toe-to-toe with me from the second I started sniffing around her looks nervous.
Actually fucking nervous.
“Hey.”
I touch her chin and gently turn her face back toward mine. Those amber eyes that wreck me meet my gaze. Then they slide away again.
“Honey Girl, talk to me.”
She lets out a breath that sounds almost annoyed with herself.
“It’s just, um...” Her fingers flex against my stomach. “I’ve had a baby, and, well, I don’t look like the kind of woman you’re used to, so I just want to manage expectations.”
For a second, I don't understand.
Then I do.
And fuck, my heart squeezes.
All that fire.
All that attitude.
And she's standing here worried I'm going to look at her and somehow find her lacking?
What the fuck is wrong with the world that gorgeous women think they have to apologize for living? For fuck’s sake, the mere idea infuriates me.
But I’m not mad at her.
Never that.
“Gabby.”
“What?”
Her chin comes up defensively.
There she is.
“I know you don’t look like other women.”
Her eyes narrow.
“Wow. Okay. Great start, Romeo.”
Despite myself, my mouth twitches.
“Would you let me fucking finish?”
She folds her arms, pushing her bountiful tits up higher in that goddamn scrap of black lace she’s wearing—doing absolutely nothing to help my concentration.
“I'm listening.”
I step closer.
Her breath catches.
Good.
Because I want her paying attention to every fucking word.
“First things first. Gabriella, you are a fucking knockout.”
Her expression shifts. The defensiveness cracks.
“Every inch,” I continue, holding her gaze. “Every curve. Every dimple and scar.”
“Havoc—”
“No. You wanted to manage my expectations?” I close the last inch between us, my voice dropping. “Then you need to understand what they are.”
Her breathing turns shallow.
“I’ve been dreaming about making love to you—to you, to your body—ever since I first saw you.”
Her lips part.
And there it is again.
That vulnerability she tries so damn hard to hide from everybody.
Even me.
Especially me.
I brush a strand of dark hair away from her cheek.
“You drive me crazy, woman. I want you so damn much.”
She stares at me.
Not speaking. Not moving.
And for once, I don't fill the silence with some smart-ass remark. Because I need her to believe me.
Not because Monster says Omega.
Not because the Fates might be shoving us together.
Because I see her.
Gabriella.
The woman. The mother. The smart-mouthed bartender who works too damn hard and gives me shit every chance she gets.
The female who's been haunting my thoughts for weeks.
My thumb traces her cheek.
“You don't ever have to warn me about your body, Honey Girl.”
Something softens in her eyes.
“You say that now.”
“Listen, I've been staring at your ass since practically the first fucking day I met you.”
Her mouth drops open.
“Rowan!”
“What?” I shrug. “We're being honest.”
A startled laugh escapes her. And, fuck me, there it is. The sound I didn't know I needed.
I grin. She tries to glare.
Fails spectacularly.
“You are such an asshole.”
“Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”
Her hands slide slowly back onto my chest.
“Yeah? Well, you're still here.”
The words are quieter.
Not teasing anymore.
I cover one of her hands with mine.
“Yeah, Gabby. I’m still here. And I’ll be here tomorrow too. And the day after that. As long as you let me.”
Our eyes meet.
The pull between us tightens again, but underneath the hunger is something far more dangerous.
Hope.
“Kiss me,” she says.
And I do. I’m not a fucking idiot.
Passion burns bright between us, and I swear to fuck, the room feels like a goddamn inferno.
But no, that’s just her.
Hot. So fucking hot.
She pushes my jeans down, and I kick them off along with my briefs. Then I reach for her bra and her pants next.
I drop kisses across her throat and down her petal soft skin while I finish stripping her. Gabby stills, clutching at my shoulders as I suck one hard nipple into my mouth.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” I growl and bite down, making her yelp.
My hands grab her hips, then her ass, and next, I’m yanking her to me, lifting her up. Her legs go around my waist and her hot, dripping core presses against my abdomen.
Fuck. Me.
She is soaked.
“Bed?”
“Mm, that way,” she whimpers and nips my ear between her teeth.
Fuck, that feels so good.
I’m holding on by a thread here, Monster is riding me to claim, mate, mark. But I’m in control enough to know I need to make this good for her. For us.
The bed creaks when we land on it. I hover above her soft, sweet body, and her amber eyes are locked on mine—pupils blown.
“Fuck, you are so goddamn sexy, Honey Girl. You know that? You know how much you turn me on?”
The words come out rougher than I intend because looking at her does something fucking dangerous to me.
Not just to Monster.
To me.
Gabby looks up at me, and for one suspended second I forget how to breathe.
There’s desire in those amber eyes, but there’s something else too. Trust. Fragile as hell, but there, and knowing she’s giving even that much of herself to me makes my chest pull tight.
She chose this.
Chose me.
Fuck, if that doesn’t mean more than it should.
“Please, Rowan,” she begs.
Rowan.
My real name on her lips nearly brings me to my fucking knees.
Nobody says it like that.
Nobody has ever made it sound like it belongs to them.
Monster surges forward, greedy and possessive, but for once I understand exactly what the bastard wants because I want it too.
Her.
Not for a night.
Not because she smells good, or challenges me, or makes my blood run hot.
Her.
“Easy, I got you,” I growl and dip my head, claiming her mouth with mine.
I kiss her until everything outside this room disappears.
The fire.
The pain still lingering beneath my healing skin.
Every ugly fucking memory that taught me getting close to someone was dangerous.
Gabby’s fingers tighten against me, and that small, instinctive touch anchors me harder than any Alpha command ever could.
I’m here.
She’s here.
And whatever the hell Fate is building between us is getting stronger.
Fuck, she’s hot.
And I mean hot.
Her skin must be a hundred and five degrees to the touch. But I can take it. The heat. The pressure. All of it.
Something about that registers in the back of my mind.
Something I should probably question.
Later.
Because right now Gabby is watching me with that mixture of hunger and vulnerability, and all I want is to wipe away every last trace of uncertainty I saw in her earlier.
She worried I wouldn’t want her body.
Fucking impossible.
She has no idea what she does to me.
I lick my way between the valley of her breasts, stopping to pay attention to the ripe berries tipping each one.
She likes it when I do that. Her hands reach for my hair, and she pulls, moaning and gasping as I suckle her greedily.
“Like that, Baby? Good. Now, hold on.”
I move further down her gorgeous as fuck body, parting her legs wider with my shoulders, my hands spreading her lips so I can see her hot, wet core.
Fuck me. Her pussy is glistening with need. Juicy and sweet, I can’t get enough of her scent.
“Rowan?”
“Need to taste you, Gabby,” I tell her right before I snake my tongue out of my mouth and lick into her.
Holy. Shit.
Her tangy flavors explode onto my tongue. Sweet, salty, delicious.
I want more.
“Oh my God!” she screams, back arching.
But I don’t quit. Not yet.
No fucking way.
Not until I make her scream my name as she comes on my tongue.
“I’m close,” she whimpers, and I take that as my cue.
Hooking her leg over my shoulder, I plunge two fingers inside her tight heat, then I find her clit with the flat of my tongue—and I lap at her like she is the sweetest cream I ever tasted.
She is.
Then I hear it. The thing I didn’t even realize I’d been waiting for until she gives it to me. My name. Not Havoc. Not the name everybody uses for the monster.
Mine.
“Oh, God! Oh, Rowan!”
Everything inside me stills.
Even Monster.
For one impossible heartbeat, there’s only Gabriella looking at me and my name still hanging in the air between us.
Rowan.
Fuck.
My chest aches with it.
Because Havoc is easy. Havoc fights fires. Havoc scares people.
Havoc keeps everyone far enough away that they never get the chance to discover how fucked up the male underneath really is.
But she keeps calling me Rowan.
And every damn time she does, it feels like she’s reaching past the Wolf, past the reputation, past every wall I’ve spent years building and putting her hand around the part of me I thought nobody would ever fucking want.
Monster rumbles deep inside me.
Omega.
This time, I don’t tell him to shut up.
I just look at her.
At my beautiful, stubborn, secretive Honey Girl. And something frighteningly close to certainty settles inside my chest.
Whatever Gabriella Santos is hiding from me, whatever the Fates have planned for us, I already know one thing.
I’m in so much fucking trouble.
Because I don't only want this woman.
I'm starting to need her, too.
And that realization should scare the ever-loving fuck out of me.
Maybe it does.
But with Gabby beneath me, those amber eyes holding mine without flinching, I can't find enough room inside me for fear.
There’s just this.
Just us.