by Pamela Clare
She'd never been held like this by a man--or anyone, for that matter. Apart from rare hugs her grandmother had given her, she'd grown up without physical contact. She was surprised to find that she liked it. It felt good, warm, soothing.
More than that, it felt right.
The wind knows him.
She drew back only far enough to look up at his face. He was watching her, his blue eyes filled with concern, his lashes dark, his brow furrowed. His skin was brown from the sun, his jaw shadowed by a new growth of stubble, and his lips...
She found herself wondering again what it would be like to kiss those lips. She'd been kissed before, once in middle school by one of the Benally brothers and twice in high school by Willie Tsosie--and she hadn't been impressed. But somehow she didn't think Gabe would lose his gum in her mouth or slobber on her.
As if of their own will, her fingers found their way to his mouth, tracing the curve of his lower lip, exploring its fullness.
He tensed, and his eyes went dark. "Kat..."
She knew there were reasons why she shouldn't be touching him like this, but she didn't really care, his words echoing through her mind.
The rules don't apply tonight.
She sat up higher, took his face between her palms, and pressed her lips to his.
CHAPTER 6
GEEE-ZUS!
Gabe sucked in a breath, shocked by the blistering impact of Kat's unexpected kiss, heat shearing through his gut at the first clumsy press of her lips against his. Even as his body responded, some part of his brain knew this shouldn't be happening. "Kat, you're upset and tipsy and--"
She kissed him again, tilting her head to better slant her mouth over his.
Christ!
He turned his face away, felt her lips brush his jaw. "Honey, you don't really want this. You've just lost--"
She made a little sound of protest, her arms sliding behind his head, drawing his lips closer to hers, as if to show him that she did really want it.
Good. So did he.
Ignoring the pathetic warnings of his conscience, he took control of the kiss, drawing her tight against him, capturing her mouth with his.
God, she tasted sweet! She smelled sweet, too--like honey and woman. She gave a little whimper, melting against him in a way that was utterly feminine, every inch of her soft body molding to his, her breasts pressing against his ribs, her lips parting to give him access. He swirled his tongue over hers, felt her body tense. And through a pheromone fog, he realized she wasn't just a virgin between her legs.
Kissing--real kissing--was new to her, too.
Not just virgin, buddy--extra virgin.
He reined himself in, gentled the kiss, slowed it down, brushing her lips lightly with his, teasing their outline with the tip of his tongue, nipping their fullness, his lust for her at war with some strange urge to protect her from himself. In his world, any night that started with kissing ended soon after with fucking. His cock had already risen to the occasion and strained painfully against his fly, looking for the surest route out of denim and into her. But that couldn't happen--not tonight, not when she was vulnerable and afraid and hurting, probably not ever. She wanted happily ever after, and all he could give her was sex. Still, he could keep kissing her...
Hell, yeah.
He claimed her mouth in a no-holds-barred kiss, penetrating deep, taking her tongue with his, sucking it into his mouth, biting down. She whimpered, kissed him back, meeting the strokes of his tongue with her own, her fingers curled in his hair, her body almost undulating against his, communicating in a primal language of its own, one Gabe's body understood only too well.
Katherine James might want to save her virginity, but her body had other plans.
With a groan, he drew her beneath him, testosterone shorting out his brain, his body taking over, his blood running hot and fast. He found her throat and pressed his lips against the rapid beating of her pulse, kissing a path over soft, sweet skin, tasting her, nibbling her earlobe. And he wasn't finished--not by a long shot.
"Oh!" Kat heard herself whimper and turned her head to the side, surrendering her throat to Gabe, the heat of his lips raising goose bumps on her skin, his male scent filling her head, the hard press of his body on top of hers making her belly flutter.
She'd never felt anything like this, never even imagined it--the heat, the intensity, the overwhelming physical force of it. Her body trembled, and her heart raced, her breathing uneven as if she'd been running. And she was running--from her grief, from her fear, from everything that hurt. Some part of her knew this, but that only made her run faster.
The rules don't apply tonight.
She didn't stop him when he slid a callused hand beneath her sweater to trace tiny circles up her rib cage. She didn't object when his clever fingers found the clasp of her bra between her breasts and unhooked it. And when he cupped her left breast, when his thumb flicked her nipple...
She gasped, stunned, the sensation too astonishing, too arousing, too wonderful to be real. Jagged shafts of heat seemed to shoot straight from her breast to her belly, turning to liquid between her thighs.
"You like that, don't you?"
At the husky sound of his voice, her eyes flew open. She found him looking down at her, his breathing as rough as hers, his blue eyes burning, a smile on his wet lips. She forced herself to hold his gaze, shocked by the intimacy of watching him as he watched her, as he watched the effect his touch had on her, his hand still cupping and shaping her breast, his thumb tracing lazy circles over its aching crest.
And the heat in her belly became a wildfire.
Then he pushed her sweater up, baring her breasts, his gaze raking hungrily over her. "God, Kat, honey, you've got beautiful breasts. They're so ... Mmm."
Whatever he'd been about to say became a moan as he ducked down and drew one of her nipples into the scorching heat of his mouth.
"Gabe!" Kat's body jerked at the initial shock of it, the pleasure staggering as he suckled first one nipple and then the other, tugging at her with his lips, teasing her with velvet strokes of his tongue, tormenting her with nips of his teeth. It was sweet, so sweet, and terrible, too, the fire between her thighs now a throbbing ache. She heard herself calling his name, felt her hips lifting toward him, wanting, wanting...
Wanting him.
He groaned, settled his weight between her thighs, and answered her need, grinding what could only be the thick ridge of his erection against her... there. Slowly, so slowly he moved against her, taking the edge off the ache, only to make it so much worse. She was wet, the emptiness inside her burning, her inner muscles clenching around nothing. And she knew.
If he kept going, if he pressed her, she wouldn't be able to stop him. She wouldn't want to.
Gabe's body was strung so tightly he thought it might snap. He'd been a damned idiot to take it this far. He'd wanted to give her the comfort she so obviously needed, and one thing had led to another. Or that's what he'd told himself. In truth, he'd wanted to kiss her and hold her--and so he had.
He needed to stop. But how could he when Kat was coming apart in his arms, her response burning him up? Her little mewls and whimpers were driving him out of his mind, her wine-dark nipples drawn into tight buds that begged for his mouth, her hips moving in a way that was both feminine and undeniably erotic. He didn't want to stop--oh, hell, no! He wanted to fuck her long and hard. He wanted to make her come again and again. He wanted to forget himself inside her.
And then what, buddy? You'll pluck her sweet cherry and show her the door? She deserves better than that, and you damned well know it.
Gabe dragged his lips from hers, forced his hips to hold still, sexual need grinding in his gut, blood pounding through his veins. "Kat."
She looked up at him, so beautiful it made his chest ache, confusion and longing in those hazel green eyes, tear stains on her cheeks, her lips red and swollen, her delicious breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath--no makeup, no silicon, nothing
but sweet, soft, sexually aroused woman.
He fought the urge, so elemental, to kiss her again and settled for running his knuckles over her cheek. Somehow, he managed to string a few words together. "If I don't stop now, honey, we're going to be at this all night."
She squeezed her eyes shut, turned her head to the side, and nodded, her breathing still erratic, her body shaking.
Not sure what to do at a moment like this, he lifted his weight off her, sat back on the couch, drawing her up with him, settling her beside him, her back to his chest. And for a moment he just held her, his cheek resting against her hair, his arm around her waist, waiting for his head to clear and her trembling to subside. It was strangely satisfying, holding her like this. Not as gratifying as sex would have been, but far better than not holding her--as he discovered a moment later, when she scooted forward, away from him.
She fastened her bra and let her sweater fall into place. "I... I'm sorry. It's my fault. I shouldn't have--"
"Hey, don't." He'd be damned if he'd let her turn a little R-rated make-out session into a reason to feel guilty. He sat forward and cupped her cheek, turning her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You have no reason to apologize. You've had one hell of a day. It's only natural that you'd try to find some comfort. Combine that with a couple shots of whisky and compatible chemistry and--"
The doorbell rang.
"Pizza." Gabe stood, ran a finger over Kat's cheek. "You just hang tight, and we'll finish this discussion in a minute."
His heart still pounding, his cock half hard, he walked down the hallway to the front door, opened it--and felt his teeth grind.
Not pizza.
Dammit!
He lowered his voice. "Samantha. What the hell are you doing here?"
BOTH RELIEVED AND disappointed to find herself alone, Kat hugged her arms around herself, closed her eyes, and drew several shaky breaths, trying to slow her racing heart and stop herself from trembling. Her lips still tingled from his kisses, her breasts heavy and aching, raw arousal pulsing between her thighs.
What have you done, Kat?
What she'd done was kiss him. He'd tried to warn her, had given her a chance to stop, and still she'd kissed him. Over and over again.
It must have been the whisky. She'd never had so much as a sip of alcohol before tonight. Although she knew alcohol made people do things they wouldn't ordinarily do, she hadn't realized it was affecting her. It had lowered her inhibitions and...
Even as she grasped for that excuse, she knew that's all it was--an excuse. Yes, she'd had a little whisky to drink, but not so much that she hadn't known what she was doing. If she'd been that drunk she wouldn't be sitting here having a rational conversation with herself. No, she'd known what she was doing. She'd chosen to do it.
Kat, you're upset and tipsy and--
Yes, she'd been upset. She'd been more than upset. She loved Grandpa Red Crow like a father, and now he was gone. Senselessly, needlessly gone. To have seen the way he'd died, to have seen the light gone from his eyes...
Tears blurred her vision, grief rising thick and hot in her throat.
Yes, she'd been upset, and in the wake of Grandpa Red Crow's death, she'd reached for comfort, for life, for Gabe. And he'd understood, at first trying to stop her.
Honey, you don't really want this.
But she had really wanted it. In that moment she'd wanted it more than anything. She wondered for days what it would be like to be kissed by him. Now she knew.
And now she needed to forget. Because kissing him had made her want to forget every promise she'd ever made herself.
And where would that leave you, Kat?
No place she'd want to be. She wanted love. He wanted a good time. He'd made it clear in the restaurant on Monday that he wasn't interested in a relationship. For him, sex was nothing more than a physical thing. How had he put it?
There's no such thing as "happily ever after." Love, romance, sex-- it's nothing more than chemistry.
Chemistry.
He'd used that word just now, too.
You've had one hell of a day. It's only natural that you'd try to find some comfort. Combine that with a couple shots of whisky and compatible chemistry and--
So that's how he saw it--a mere matter of physiology, psychology, and biology. Like the confluence of geology, geography, and biology at the butte, it could be studied, classified, and explained by science. But science merely revealed the "how" of things, never the deeper "why." And Kat desperately needed that "why."
Why, oh, why was she so drawn to a man who might want her in his bed but would never want her in his life?
She wiped the tears from her cheeks, wondering what was taking Gabe so long with the pizza. Not that she was hungry...
Then she heard voices--his and a woman's. It sounded like they were arguing. But why would he be arguing with the pizza driver?
She stood and walked toward the sound, only to find him blocking the doorway with his body, keeping a much smaller and very beautiful red-haired woman from coming inside. The woman shoved against him, tottered on her heels, failing to budge him even an inch, her short, black dress and jacket at odds with the snow that fell behind her.
"You can't just sleep with me and then ignore me!" she hissed in his face.
So this woman and Gabe are involved.
A heaviness gathered in Kat's chest.
"You don't have a shred of dignity, do you? Go home, Samantha."
And now Gabe wants nothing to do with her.
That strange heaviness sank right into Kat's stomach.
The woman caught sight of Kat, and her expression changed from despair to loathing. "I see why you won't let me in. You're busy."
Gabe's head jerked around, the surprise on his face telling Kat that he hadn't known she was standing there. He closed his eyes for a moment, drew a deep breath, then turned back to Samantha. "Leave her out of this. She's none of your--"
"You asshole!" The woman slapped Gabe hard enough to turn his head, the blow making Kat gasp. Then she glared at Kat. "You must give really good head, bitch, because I'm an expert, and he never once brought me here. I had to get his address from the DMV!"
"Samantha!" Gabe's shout made Kat jump. He took a step forward, forcing Samantha back. "Get the hell off my doorstep and out of my sight!"
"Or what? You'll call the police?" Samantha's nostrils flared, and she shot Kat one last venomous look, before glaring up at Gabe again. "Go to hell, you jerk! Your bitch of a fiancee, Jill, is there waiting for you."
Then the woman turned on her heels and stomped off through the snow, Gabe closing the door behind her.
Fiancee? Had Gabe been engaged? And why would his fiancee be waiting in hell, unless she was... unless she was dead.
For a moment, this revelation seemed terribly important to Kat. If she hadn't had that whisky, if she weren't already emotionally overwhelmed, she might have been able to work it out. But then Gabe turned toward her, his expression hard, a muscle clenching in his jaw. He met her gaze, and his expression softened.
"I'm sorry you saw that. She's a ... She's just a ..."
Feeling hollow, Kat finished for him. "A failed chemistry experiment?"
THIS WAS JUST great. This was goddamned great!
"You don't have to go." Gabe watched Kat search her purse for her cell phone, wishing he could wring Samantha's neck. Leave it to Sam to go Fatal Attraction on him... "You can have my bed. I'll take the couch."
"No, thank you." Kat drew her cell phone out, flipped it open, tapped in a number with her thumb. "I need to get home. I'll come for my truck tomorrow."
The doorbell rang again.
Gabe paid the pizza delivery kid and carried the box to the kitchen, half listening while Kat told someone named Sophie about Grandpa Red Crow and asked if someone could pick her up, her voice choked with tears, her grief stirring something inside him he didn't want to feel.
Go to hell, you jerk! Your bitch of a fiancee, Jill, is there
waiting for you.
He ruthlessly quashed the unwanted emotion, willed himself not to think of Jill or Samantha or to waste a single moment wondering how Samantha knew about Jill. She'd probably slept with one of his old climbing buddies. They were the only ones who'd known the truth--which is why he hadn't spoken to them in three years.
"What's your address?" Kat called to him.
He ground it out, trying not to grit his teeth. "Nine-forty-five Tenth Street."
"Thanks." She repeated it over the phone.
He dropped the pizza box on the table, set two paper plates and a small stack of paper napkins down beside it, the night having officially gone to hell. Why should he care if Kat wanted to head home? If that's what she needed, that was fine by him. It's not like he'd planned to have her spend the night. And if the thought of her sleeping in his bed--without him--had pleased him in some strange way?
It only proved that she was right. It was best if she left--best for both of them. He was getting way too caught up in her.
She appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Her husband, Marc, is at a regional drug task force meeting in Broomfield. He'll be here in about twenty minutes."
Twenty minutes.
Why do you care, Rossiter?
He ignored the question.
"That gives you plenty of time to get something in your stomach." He pulled out a chair for her. "I hope you like pepperoni. Pizza Hut was clean out of mutton."
AN AWKWARD SILENCE stretched between them while they ate, Gabe unable to take his gaze from her. She made what she called a Spirit Plate, putting a bit of her pizza on it and asking him if she could set it outside his back door. He thought he knew what it was for--an offering for the spirit of Grandpa Red Crow. He opened the back door for her himself and watched as she set it on the ground in the inch or so of snow that had gathered, speaking words he didn't understand.
But it looked like Red Crow's spirit was getting more pizza tonight than Kat. She nibbled at it, obviously too upset to be hungry. And he had to blame himself for part of that. He'd brought her here to give her a quiet place to rest and recover from the shock of Red Crow's death. Instead of peace and quiet, she'd been pawed and verbally harassed. No wonder she wanted to get the hell home.
