The Lost

by Cole McCade

  And when that thread snapped, the recoil whipped through her and spun her into a frenzy. She cried out his name as her thighs clasped against his shoulders. Her fingers dug into her breast, and wild wet wickedness poured through her with a sensation like melting into honey, until her entire body was liquid and heavy.

  Leigh sank to the hood of the car, struggling to catch her breath—then whimpering as Gabriel licked her again, tracing every inch of flesh with slow, languid, torturous strokes that made her want to curl up and scream when it was too much, too soon. But after a moment he withdrew, tugging her panties up with a gentle, tender touch that skimmed along the outsides of her thighs before curling against her hips as he settled the crisp cloth against her soaking wet flesh. He moved over her again and bent to kiss her, brushing his lips to hers until she tasted herself, tart-sweet, on his skin.

  “You fucking asshole,” she whispered against his lips, and he chuckled.

  “That’s starting to sound like a term of endearment.”

  Gabriel stole another kiss, then slid off her. She sat up and settled her dress to rights, wrinkling her nose at the wet sound her thighs made as they slid together.

  “Now I’m a mess.”

  “Good. Stay that way.” Something dark flashed in Gabriel’s eyes, and he slipped his hand between her legs, stroking through the glimmering streaks on her inner thighs. “I want to taste it on you later.”

  He pulled away, leaving her breathless, flushed. “…asshole.”

  With a rough laugh, he circled the car and opened the passenger side door. “Get in.”

  Leigh stuck her tongue out at him, then climbed gingerly off the Firebird and stood on legs that felt like jelly. Fucking idiot, tumbling her back and taking control like that; as if he had the right. And she’d fucking let him. She grumbled to herself as she tucked herself into the passenger’s seat—but grumbling turned into glaring when she caught the smug hint of a smile on his lips.

  Asshole.

  He slid in gracefully on the driver’s side, slammed the door shut, then started the engine with that deep wildcat growl of a thrumming engine. The Firebird backed out of the garage and into the street; he shifted gears, then sent the car roaring into the fading light over the pocked and pitted streets.

  “Where are we going?” Leigh asked, barely able to hear herself over the engine.

  “The docks. I told you I had somewhere I wanted to show you.”

  “Hm. You won’t tell me where it is, will you?”

  “No.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Ass. Hole.”

  “Just buckle your seatbelt.” He changed gears again with a chuckle, and laid on the gas. “She moves fast.”

  The Firebird surged forward, rocking Leigh back against the seat while the car leaped like a pouncing beast. She grabbed for her seatbelt breathlessly, fumbling a moment before clicking it into place. Buildings blurred past in gray streaks tinted with gold as the car accelerated, surging down the dilapidated road and toward the highway.

  “How fast?” she asked.

  Gabriel caught her eye with a sly look. “I did build her for racing.”

  “Take me for a ride.” She held on tight to the seatbelt and grinned, feeling that fire in her blood, that wildness that had pushed her to do so many reckless things. “Show me how fast she can go.”

  “As you wish.”

  The Firebird eased onto the open stretch of the highway. Gabriel shifted gears again—then floored the accelerator. With a snarling roar, the car took off like a shot, the needle climbing, the entire car shaking around them. Leigh laughed, a wondrous knot of fear and adrenaline and excitement spinning up into a twist inside her, tense as she braced her feet against the floor and gave in to the sheer force shoving her back against the seat. It felt like flying, the wheels barely touching the ground, the city around them just a crazy blur. She bit back an exhilarated shriek as they came up on tail lights, but Gabriel shifted the car to cut neatly through the sparse traffic, zipping in and out in narrow scrapes that made her gut draw up hard and locked her breaths behind her teeth.

  She tore her gaze from the world whipping by and stole a look at Gabriel. He slouched in the driver’s seat with casual control, lazily feral, the muscles in his arm and shoulder rippling each time he switched gears and made the Firebird purr for him. Made Leigh purr for him, when something about the easy confidence in the way he handled the car made her throb between her thighs with a need that only burned hotter with each mile that disappeared beneath the Firebird’s wheels.

  When the engine’s rumble quieted and slowed, she could have whimpered. She’d loved that endorphin high, her body tingling all over with the rush. But there was the river glimmering through the buildings, and the peaks of the rows and rows of tents. Gabriel eased the Firebird through the streets to the docks, then downshifted into park and stopped with the engine idling and the car trembling around them. He gazed through the windshield, his darkly fierce features relaxed into something almost like sated contentment.

  “Do you remember when I told you about those moments of joy?” he asked. “Those moments that feel like touching the sun.” When she nodded, he stroked his fingertips over the fine leather of the steering wheel. “This is mine. That moment when it peaks out at one-eighty and everything’s roaring around me. When the wheels almost leave the ground and I know I’ll either fly or die, and for just a moment it’s completely out of my control.”

  Leigh reached over to rest her hand against the sinewy strength of his thigh. “Do you want to die, Gabriel?”

  “No.” His hand fell to cover hers, heated and rough. “I just want that moment when the choice to live or die isn’t my responsibility. Not my life, or anyone else’s.” Pale eyes fixed on her. “More than anything, I want a reason to keep living.”

  She saw, then, the weight of lost lives on his shoulders, haunted and carried with him every day. The heaviness of never being sure if it was his decisions that had led to his unit’s death. She wondered how many times he’d replayed every moment of those days, those weeks, analyzing for what he could have, should have done differently. But there was no knowing.

  Only forgetting, in that moment when he flew.

  “Gabriel.” She leaned into him, rubbing her cheek to his shoulder; he caught her chin and tipped her face up, searching her eyes intently.

  “Kiss me, little mouse.”

  She unbuckled her seatbelt, pushed herself up, and pressed her lips to his, stealing the chocolate-and-gunsmoke taste of him, savoring the scratch of stubble against her lips. He locked an arm around her waist and jerked her against him, crushing her against his body, his skin burning her through the thin muslin of her sundress. She cried out hotly as he pulled her into his lap, lifting her down and settling her fully astride him, trapped between the steering wheel and the perfect chiseled sculpture of his rough-edged body.

  Her sore thighs strained, lances of pain spearing up into her as she spread herself open to straddle his bulk. His fingers dug into her ass, cupping, kneading with a heady possessiveness and intoxicating strength; he pulled her down, grinding their hips together and dragging her still-sensitive slit against the urgent hardness rising against his jeans. She was wet for him already, grasping, needing him, and they nearly fought each other to be the first to rip his jeans open. She slid her hand inside and cupped his cock, heavy in her palm, skin almost velvety as she stroked it just to watch him shudder with his lashes trembling and his breaths hissing. He jerked her more roughly against him, fingers stroking under her dress as he lifted her up and positioned her over his shaft. He looked up at her, capturing her with vivid eyes that burned with wild demand and wilder desire.

  “Do it yourself,” he whispered hoarsely. “Make it hurt.”

  Her eyes widened. She trembled down to the tips of her fingers, hesitating, stomach fluttering. He wanted her to…? Oh, God. She didn’t know if she could, not when she was still so raw. She needed him to force her or she’d never be able to—<
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  “Do. It.”

  Her gut clenched. She swallowed, nodded, and curled her fingers against his cock again, tracing the thick veins as she positioned herself against the head. The moment hard flesh nudged against her panties she hissed, tensing, rising up on quivering thighs. The entire time he watched her, as she slipped her panties aside with two fingers, held herself open, fit his body to hers with his cock hovering just on the cusp of penetration, burning her with its heat while she slicked his flesh wet. She held her breath, bracing herself…then let her legs go lax, slipping from beneath her as she forced herself down, plunging deep to take him to the hilt in a single stroke driven by gravity and her own weight.

  Her vision exploded. A cry tore from her throat so harshly it left ragged pain behind, pain that vibrated in every inch of her body and trembled into screaming pleasure. She had one moment to breathe before Gabriel gripped her hips, lifted her up, and brought her slamming down again, cleaving her so deep that at any moment she would break and come apart at the seams. They crashed together, all adrenaline and madness, rushed frantic breaths in the rhythm of rocking thrusts and sliding bodies and the cries Leigh couldn’t swallow back even if she tried. She felt so small against Gabriel like this, trapped and helpless and utterly in his control, his body forcing her open and his cock tearing deep. His fingers dragged through her hair, gripped, pulled—and she arched into a backbreaking curve, her knees digging into the seat, while his mouth scorched down her throat and onto her chest, biting and licking at her breasts through the fragile layer of muslin.

  She was wanton, beyond salvation, tangled up in Gabriel and matching his fury with a desperate need to feel alive—to remind him he was alive, here with her instead of trapped in a past he couldn’t change. She clawed at his shoulders and reveled in his snarls, in the way he responded by snapping his hips upward to thrust into her with a vengeful ferocity. She didn’t know who was in control anymore when they tangled together and fucked like they wanted to destroy each other, and she didn’t care. She just wanted that burning black sun of sensation that hovered just out of her grasp, waiting to consume her.

  And when she fell, when that rippling shudder flowed through her from her trembling lips to her tight-contracting cunt, she ground herself down to feel his cock touching everywhere inside her and clenched down as tight as she could, feeling her breaths touch her lips like kisses. She gasped out the fire in her heart, and writhed as the black blood of pleasure burned in her veins.

  Through her lashes, through the dizzying haze of those final moments, she watched Gabriel. His head fell back against the seat, his neck arched, and his lips parted on sensuous, husky growls. God, he was fucking beautiful—and she loved the way he held her so tight with his arms locked around her as he sought his own pleasure, emptying himself into her until she overflowed and ran slick down her thighs, dirtied and sweet.

  She sank against him in a loose, comfortable tangle of limbs, nuzzling under his jaw. The urgency of the moment had broken like the crest of a wave, and after the crash she was content to just drift in the lingering eddies, warm while he held her with his fingers stroking over her back. He kissed the top of her head with a soft sigh of her name.

  “Leigh.”

  “Mm.” She nosed at his throat. “You say my name like you want to keep it. You know, if all you wanted was sex all night, we could’ve done that at Gary’s.”

  His low laugh shook his body beneath her. “As amusing as that might be, no.”

  She braced her hands on his stomach and pushed herself up, sucking in a breath as he shifted inside her, still half-hard and licking against her inner walls. “Still not going to tell me where you’re taking me?”

  “Boat’s right there.”

  “I’m not sure my legs will get me there, now.”

  “Then I’ll carry you.”

  She laughed. “You will not.” Gritting her teeth, she lifted herself off him, biting back a cry as the liquid heat inside her shifted and coated her from within, only barely easing the scraping pain of separation. Gasping, she slumped in the seat next to him while they both set their clothes to rights; she watched the rosary swaying from the rear view mirror through half-lidded eyes, then reached up to trace her fingers over the beads. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a religious man.”

  “Belongs to a friend.” Gabriel caught the cross in his palm, stilling its swaying. “I’m just holding on to it until he wants it back.”

  He slid out of the car and rounded to the passenger side, then held the door open for Leigh. It used to bother her, when Jacob did that. He’d treated her like she was helpless, and chivalry was just a way to remind her of her place. Yet when Gabriel did it, bending to offer his hand…it just made her feel warm. Respected. That even after she’d wrapped herself around him and let herself be a slave to both his lust and hers, he still saw her as more than an object; as someone worth that little moment of courtesy.

  “Going to salute me, too?” she teased, as she slipped her hand in his and climbed out—and nearly fell, her knees buckling.

  “Not quite.” He caught her around the waist—then swept her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “But I will do this.”

  “Gabriel!”

  “No complaining.” He kicked the Firebird’s door shut, then turned to carry her down the docks. “After all, it’s my fault you can’t walk.”

  She grumbled and rested her head to his shoulder, fighting back a yawn. “You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

  “Don’t mistake happiness for smugness, little mouse,” he murmured, and held her that much tighter.

  He carried her down the pier to the swaying, lazing houseboat—and before she could stop him, vaulted the rail without putting her down, making her stomach drop out while she clung to him that much tighter, yelping. She opened her mouth to call him every name in the book—until she caught that hint of an arrogant smirk twitching at his lips.

  “…you fucker.”

  “You’re holding on, aren’t you?”

  “I hate that you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  He laughed, throaty and skin-shivering, as he made his way sure-footed across the deck. “No, you don’t.”

  He elbowed the cabin open, and ducked inside to deposit her gently on the bed, tumbling her onto her back. Leaning over her, he braced his hands to either side of her head and brushed his lips over hers with a familiarity she told herself he hadn’t earned, but that she couldn’t stand to deny him. This night almost felt fake, as if there was some kind of promise in it when she knew come tomorrow she’d be in that Greyhound station with nothing left of Gabriel but the lingering taste on her lips.

  He parted his lips, then paused, brows knitting as he studied her. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” She smiled slightly and flicked a few strands of hair back from his face. “I thought you said you didn’t bring me out here to tumble me into bed again.”

  “I didn’t. But you look ready to pass out. I’m well aware that I’m an asshole for that, before you say a word.” He stole another kiss. “Sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

  “…you like telling me what to do.”

  “And you like swearing at me for it.” Gabriel chuckled and stroked a hand down her side, then straightened. “It won’t be far.”

  He strode away, back to the wheelhouse. Leigh watched him go, then rolled over with a groan, sprawling out. Tybalt sprang onto the bed and nosed her cold, wet nose against her elbow; Leigh opened one eye and peeked over her arm at the cat.

  “Hey, you.” She reached out to scratch under the furball’s chin, just to hear that rusty, grating purr. “That man of yours is an idiot, you know.”

  “Miao,” Tybalt answered, and shoved her head under Leigh’s palm.

  “Yeah. I know.” She sighed. “I’m kind of starting to like it, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  SHE HADN’T EXPECTED TO DRIFT off so easily, but the steady rhythm of th
e boat’s engine conspired with the rocking waves and Tybalt’s purr to pull her under. She snuggled into sheets saturated with Gabriel’s scent and let herself sink, and tried not to wonder at how comfortable and easy and familiar this felt. She’d always thought it would be hard to let someone in, after spending so long guarding herself so closely. Instead it was almost too easy, with Gabriel.

  The hard part, she realized, would be letting go.

  She woke when the engine sputtered down, the absence of sound pulling her from a light doze. When she opened her eyes, the cabin was dark save for a few bands of gray illumination filtering through the curtains; all was silent save for the slap of the waves on the hull, with no sign of Gabriel. Wiping at her eyes, she slipped out of bed, each step a sharp, pleasurable little twinge that pulled on each and every bruise and ache.

  “Gabriel?” she called as she passed through the door into the wheelhouse, then stepped out on deck. “Are you—”

  All words fled. She emerged into a world of darkness and floating motes of light that stole every thought from her mind and every breath from her lungs, to replace them with a sense of effervescent awe. The boat floated close to the river bank, overshadowed by wizened trees that blocked the moonlight to leave the water a glossy black sheet unbroken by wave or ripple, the damp-scented air thick without a hint of breeze to shatter the river’s glassy mirror—or dispel the tiny motes of colored flame that filled the night. Fireflies darted and swirled everywhere in blue and green and yellow and orange sparks, thousands of them in a storm of ethereal light, dancing with their reflections until the boat seemed to float through a galaxy of winking embers. Leigh stared as her heart rose to soar in dizzy euphoric spirals with the fireflies, given tiny gossamer wings. And she couldn’t help but laugh, spreading her arms and spinning through the ocean of little lights; she spread her fingers with delight as her skirt swirled and, through the muslin, the fireflies shone like candles through a pale paper lantern.