by JM Stewart
A groan escaped him, and Gabe closed his eyes. She had the softest hands, like warm silk, and that one simple action sent a heady tremor through him as she slid his shirt from his shoulders.
When it drooped on his forearms, he opened his eyes, concentrating for a moment on undoing his cuffs and shrugging out of his shirt. Because he couldn’t touch her until he freed himself, and he needed his hands on her like he needed to breathe.
Steph leaned forward, raining kisses over his chest and shoulders, before pressing one to his lips. Arms now free, he cupped her face in his palms and leaned into her. The kiss became a soft tangle of lips and tongues, and for a moment he gave himself over to it, allowed himself to enjoy that one simple pleasure.
When they parted again, her eyes had dropped to half-mast, filling with a tenderness that awed him. He remembered that about her, too. Her tender side. He needed it, desperately, and he hadn’t a damn clue how to tell her how much it meant that she gave it so freely.
Before he could find the words, Steph dropped her gaze and reached for the button on his jeans. “These are next.”
When her fingers closed around the button, panic caged his chest in a vise. His hand shot out, catching her wrist before she popped the button free. She lifted her gaze to his, eyes wide with surprise. His hands shook, his heart beginning an erratic hammer as the moment settled over him. Telling her he’d lost his leg was one thing. Showing her his stump was something else entirely. He’d have to watch the expression travel across her face when she caught her first glimpse of it.
He swallowed past the anxious lump forming in his throat. “The prosthesis will have to come off. It’s the only way to get the jeans off. Well, I suppose it’s possible to take the shoe off, but the leg is designed to work with the shoe. I can’t walk barefoot or my hips aren’t level, and my crutches are on the other side of the bed, and—”
Steph pressed a finger to his mouth. “Relax. It’s okay.”
He released a pent-up breath, his face catching fire. “I’m sorry.” He dropped his gaze, busied himself with stroking his hands up her smooth thighs. “I’m nervous. Nobody but Molly and Julia have ever…”
Not even the guys at the shop had seen his leg. Oh, they all knew, but seeing it was something else entirely. Julia had been too sick by the time he returned from the war to do much more than hold him while they slept.
Steph stared, and his stomach lurched. Pathetic. That’s what he was. A pathetic shell of a man. He should have known he was no longer cut out for the world of romance and never would be again. He ought to be seducing her, but instead he was a giant bundle of nerves. Any second now she’d get up and get dressed, make an excuse about having something important to do, and he wouldn’t blame her if she did.
He opened his mouth, ready to let her off the hook, when she cupped his chin in her palm and forced his gaze back to hers. “It’s okay.”
“That’s really nice, Steph, and I know you mean it, but thinking it and seeing it for the first time are two different things.” He’d never forget Molly’s and Julia’s expressions, the grief and shock that traveled across their features the first time they’d seen him after he’d come home four years ago. Of course, he understood they’d worried more about how close they’d come to losing him, but it still hadn’t been easy to watch.
Steph cupped his face in the warmth of her palms, thumbs caressing his cheeks. “Do you trust me, Gabe?”
That was easy, at least. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Were you anybody else, the date would’ve ended with dinner, and I would have gone home alone.”
She stroked her palm down his cheek. “Then trust me with this.”
Chapter Five
Gabe didn’t immediately answer, and the vulnerability playing on his face made Steph’s chest clench. Eleven years ago he was self-assured almost to the point of being cocky, though he’d always tempered it with a playful sense of humor. Now his heart was in his eyes. The thought of her seeing his leg clearly made him anxious. She could think of only one way to help him relax: show him by undressing him.
She brushed a kiss across his mouth, hoping to divest him of his apprehension. Gabe leaned into her, slanting his mouth over hers, gripped her hips and tugged her closer, pressing her tight against the bulge in his jeans. His tongue stroked inside, a slow, sensual slide that wrenched a quiet moan from her and had her leaning in to get more. He still had it. Gabe Donovan still made kissing a freakin’ art form. Stroking softly with his tongue. Nibbling at the corner of her mouth.
By the time they parted, she was breathless and trembling all over again. God, what he did to her.
She leaned her forehead against his as she attempted to catch her breath. “I want you naked. Sooner rather than later, because this cock”—she rocked her hips, sliding the heat of her against his erection—“is mine for the weekend, and I intend to take full advantage of it.”
One corner of his mouth hitched. “You always were insatiable.”
She swallowed a wry laugh. She’d only been that way for him, and even then, only because she’d trusted him. Outside of Mandy and Lauren, trust didn’t come easily. Growing up on her own had taught her that.
“Get naked with me.” She stroked a hand down his cheek and leaned her mouth to his ear. “Get these pants off, and you’ll discover how wet you’ve made me.”
His lips parted and his eyelids drooped, the heat within them scorching. His breath ramped up a notch, and his gaze locked on hers. Slowly, he slid a warm palm over her right thigh, dipped between, and cupped her mound. One long finger slipped between her slick folds and buried deep.
Steph gasped at the sweet invasion, her eyes closing. His fingertips held calluses, no doubt from turning wrenches all day, and the conflicting sensations, warm versus rough, lit her clit up like a vibrator. Her thighs trembled, her need out of control. “God, Gabe…”
He stroked her slowly, sliding his finger in and out, then using some of her natural moisture to rub her engorged clit. He growled low in his throat. “You are wet.”
She dropped her head back and gave her body over to him, let him ply her at will. He continued to stroke and circle while his other hand slid around her breast, thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple. He knew exactly how she liked it, and heat burst over her skin, pleasure erupting along her nerve endings. A hot little coil wound tighter and tighter within her.
She arched her hips into his hand, certain from the shift in his breath that he watched. No man understood more than Gabe how much it turned her on when someone watched her receive pleasure. How many orgasms had she had while he watched, cock in his fist?
In no time at all she was panting into his shoulder and riding his hand, her hips bucking against the delicious press of his fingers. There was something to be said about a lover who knew your body. He didn’t fumble and guess, making her more and more frustrated. Gabe knew exactly where and how to touch her, how to work her body, because he’d done it a thousand times before. It awed her to see they still had that, and every nerve ending responded, sending her careening toward bliss at breakneck speed.
“Come on, baby.” Gabe’s hot breath grazed her ear, his lips moving against the sensitive lobe. “Come for me, Steph.”
Those words and the desperate need in his tone were her final undoing. It had the same need curling through her and sent her hurtling over the edge. With a quiet moan, she came apart at the seams, every muscle tightening and loosening in a white-hot wave of pleasure. Not once did he stop or slow down. His fingers kept flicking and stroking and pinching, and Steph cried out, racked by the seemingly never-ending, luscious spasms.
When the waves finally dwindled, she collapsed, breathless and trembling, against his chest, body as limp and lifeless as a cooked noodle. “I can’t believe you can still make me come like that.”
No one else. In eleven years, no other man had ever made her come so hard she forgot everything but the pleasure.
He bent his head, soft lips skimmi
ng her neck, her shoulders. “You’re still damn beautiful when you let yourself go, too.”
Her chest clenched. She’d always hated when he said things like that. It used to fill her with hope. That one day he’d see her. That he’d tell her he loved her, too.
She’d have to watch herself with him. Too easily he could pull her in. He still grieved the loss of his wife. She couldn’t begrudge him that. Hell, part of her envied him, that he’d found love. She wouldn’t, however, give him power over her. Not again. This was about sex, no more, no less. She had to remember that.
She lifted her head, gave him her best sultry smile, and tugged open the button on his jeans. “Your turn. Take these off.”
He sighed. “I suppose I’ve stalled long enough. You know it’s not you, right?”
Once again, quiet vulnerability erupted in his eyes, and it landed its punch right in her heart. God, he really had been hurt.
“I know.” She brushed a tender kiss across his lips and slid from his lap, then folded her arms and arched a brow. “Pants, Gabe. Off. Now, please.”
He pushed to his feet, towering over her, and grinned. “You’re a bossy little thing.”
“That’s right.” She smiled as she gripped his zipper, letting her fingers brush his erection as she carefully tugged it down. “And I usually get my way.”
Gabe let out a quiet groan and leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss that left her breathless, then, just as quickly, pulled back. He shoved his jeans down his thighs and took a seat on the end of the bed. One eye continually flicked in her direction as he took his right leg out of his pants and pushed the other down past his knee. He pressed something on his ankle and eased his leg from the device. Then he rolled down a thick padded sleeve, on the end of which appeared to be a small rod of some sort. Perhaps what connected his leg to the prosthesis?
Gabe made a show of moving his pants and prosthesis off to the side before finally looking up at her. Shoulders rounded, those gorgeous hazel eyes filled with a palpable anxiety as he gave a helpless shrug. “So. This is me.”
Steph looked at his leg for a moment. Her chest hurt. Not just clenched, but wanted to cave in. He could’ve died, and the world would be one hero short.
He stiffened on the bed, sitting straighter, and folded his hands together in his lap. “Please put me out of my misery and tell me what you’re thinking.”
Her cheeks heated. Here she was, staring at him like an idiot. She knelt at his feet and ran her hand over his leg, down to where it stopped several inches below his knee.
A shudder moved through him, and she jerked her hand back and glanced up. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No. Nobody’s ever touched me there before. Well, except Molly and Julia.” He waved a hand in the air and rolled his eyes. “And the doctors and nurses, but you know what I mean.”
Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. Determination swelled inside of her. She needed to show him she meant it when she said his leg didn’t bother her. So she leaned over and pressed a series of kisses, starting at the top of his knee and moving down to where his leg ended.
This time he groaned softly, a sound of relief and desire all rolled into one. His fingers dove into her hair. “Jesus, Steph. Only you could possibly make this erotic.”
She flicked her gaze to his as she planted another kiss. “I told you. I don’t like the thought of you being hurt, but having half a leg doesn’t make you any less of a man.”
His gaze danced over hers. “Not everyone can handle this sort of thing.”
She shifted closer, laying her hands on the tops of his strong thighs. Gabe stared, eyes heavy-lidded and filled with a soft heat. His fingers sifted through her hair, stroking like someone he cared about, and the tiny action made her chest clench again. She had a sneaking suspicion making love to him wouldn’t be like most of the men she’d dated over the last couple of years. This might be only for the weekend, but Gabe would never be just a one-night stand. He knew all her secrets and vulnerabilities, and the knowledge left her feeling open and exposed. Laid bare.
“You’re still you.” She rose to her feet, braced a hand on his chest, and pushed him flat. Then she straddled his body, her thighs hugging his hips, and leaned down, pressing her chest to his. “You’re still one of the sexiest men I know.”
He rolled his eyes, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Now you’re just filling my head.”
She brushed her mouth over his, once, twice, then stopped, holding herself a hairbreadth from him. She needed to get honest with him, in a way she probably shouldn’t, but she had a feeling he needed to hear it. Sunday morning she’d be gone anyway. For tonight she’d indulge him.
“No. I’m not. I had a big crush on you a long time ago.” Okay, so it had been a lot more than a crush. She’d fallen in love with him. But he didn’t need to know that, and she had no desire to spill all her secrets. What he needed now was a whole lot more simplistic, and she needed to keep some semblance of a boundary with him or she’d end up in the same place—in love with a man who couldn’t give her his heart.
Hands braced against his chest, she pushed upright. Her heat settled over the bulge in his shorts, and Steph rocked against him.
“That hasn’t changed much. You still make me wet, and your smile still makes my heart skip a beat. Your leg is just part of you. Now make love to me, because I need you.”
He groaned, big hands caressing up her stomach and over the curves of her breasts. His thumbs flicked her tightened nipples. Then he sat upright and covered her mouth with his. This time he didn’t rush in. Gabe was Gabe. He nibbled at her bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth. Tangled his lips with hers, tongue flicking out, mimicking the act of lovemaking.
He took her breath her away, and she all but melted in his lap. All the while his hands never stopped kneading and caressing her breasts, always with the lightest of touches. Her skin came alive, and she was pretty sure his shorts had grown damp where he’d pressed against her hot core, because she throbbed.
“Underwear, babe,” he murmured against her skin as his mouth moved, soft lips now trailing across her jaw and down her neck. “We’ll never get anywhere if I don’t take them off. And I need the condom in the back pocket of my jeans.”
She nodded and slid from his lap. He lay back, lifting his hips as he eased his shorts down, then sat upright and pushed them down his legs. They fell to the floor and he dropped his hands to the bed, letting her look.
God, he was beautiful. Well-muscled shoulders and a wide chest tapered to a narrow waist, flat stomach, and lean hips. Small scars that hadn’t been there eleven years ago littered his torso and the tops of his thighs. Shrapnel, she assumed. His chest and shoulders were thicker as well, his biceps more rounded. His cock stood high and proud against his stomach, the tip grazing his belly button. Her mouth watered, her insides clenching in delicious anticipation.
Gabe bent, digging into the pocket of his jeans and coming out with a foil packet. He tore it open, his gaze on hers and full of a searing hunger as he rolled the latex in place. Then he held out a hand. “You’ll have to come a little closer.”
She took his hand, letting him pull her to him, and climbed onto his lap. With her chest pressed against his and her knees on either of side his hips, she teetered on the edge of the bed, winding her arms around his shoulders for support. Taking every breath with him, she held herself over him, the tip of him pressing at her entrance. The anticipation had her thighs shaking already.
He caressed the curve of her backside, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Ride me, baby.”
A hot little tremor raked the length of her spine, settling in her core. The desire in his voice, the demanding request, all letting her know he understood what turned her on, had her core moistening further.
She threaded her fingers in his hair and slowly sank onto him, taking him inch by luscious inch. All the while, she kept her gaze on his, let his beautiful eyes take her world and spin it ou
t of control.
When he was fully seated, his grip tightened on her ass, halting her movement, and his eyes fluttered closed.
“Stop moving.” He dropped his head back on a long, quiet moan, mouth falling open in a look of utter bliss. “God, just for a minute.”
She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, thighs shaking, core throbbing, and rocked her head back and forth. “You’re killing me, Gabe. Please. I need to move.”
It was torture not to rise and sink and satiate the hunger he sent burning through her like wildfire.
“Sorry. You just feel so good. So tight and slippery. It’s been so damn long.” He bent his head, his hot breath and soft lips a contrast of sensations as they skimmed her bare shoulder. His hands released her ass, his body trembling as hard as hers. “Go, baby. Take your pleasure.”
A quiet, relieved groan tore out of her. Steph rose on her knees and sank, then rose and sank again, taking every inch of him with greedy abandon. His cock rubbed all those perfect places inside, and each hard thrust set her aflame, sending her careening once again toward sweet oblivion.
Gabe groaned. His hands pulled her in to him, grinding her clit against his pelvis. His lips skimmed her neck, her shoulder, her jaw. His warm breaths blew harsh against her skin. She was surrounded by and immersed in him, and every thrust lit her up as if he’d struck a match.
She gave up any semblance of control, buried her face in his throat, inhaling the clean, masculine scent of him, and rocked against him in time with his movements. Until they were pushing and surging together in a desperate frenzy. The bed squeaked. Gabe panted in her ear, big hands working her ass, pulling her to him harder and faster.
Her climax struck out of nowhere. She cried out, bucking against him as luxurious, bone-melting pleasure tore through her.
Gabe dropped his head into her shoulder, a quiet curse leaving his mouth. He pulled her to him once, twice, then held her there, his grip on her ass so tight it was almost painful as his body shuddered against her. He moaned his satisfaction into her throat, long and low.
