Chapter 16: Gabrielle

Chapter 16 – Gabrielle

I’m not sure what just happened, but I feel oddly bereft. It was just a kiss, and yet he ran out like the hounds of hell were after him. Maybe they were. John Burke doesn’t trust easily. I think he assumes the worst—that no one could want to be with him.

It’s too bad he can’t see himself the way I see him. He’s a man with integrity. He’s a quiet, confident man who takes his responsibilities seriously. He’s kind to others. He’s compassionate. And he’s a very handsome man. I’m sorry he can’t see that.

Sighing, I switch off the kitchen light. I think I’ll hit the hay early tonight and read in bed. As I’m about to turn off the living room light, I hear a firm knock on my door.

It could be Hannah, or someone from the front desk. I glance through the peephole and am shocked to see John standing there, looking like he’s about to face a firing squad.

My pulse speeds up as I wonder why he’s come back. I don’t want to get my hopes up that he’s had a change of heart. Instead, I paste a neutral smile on my face and open the door.

“What brings you back so soon?” I ask, aiming to sound nonchalant. I glance around the room. “Did you forget something?”

“No. I—can I come in?”

I step back. “Sure.” I watch as he closes the door behind him. I need to try to fix this. “John, I want to apologize for my actions earlier. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was presumptuous of me, and, well, I’m sorry.”

To my surprise, he removes his hat and hangs it on the coat rack. Nervously, he runs the fingers of his right hand through his hair. “Don’t apologize, please.”

“Okay.” Now I’m confused. “Then why—”

“I shouldn’t have walked out on you.” He sucks in a deep breath before meeting my gaze head on. “I came back to ask—I was hoping you’d give me another chance.” He rubs his left thigh with his left hand. “The truth is, I am attracted to you.” He chuckles. “Wow, that’s an understatement. But I never dreamed—” He stops and looks away.

I’m on pins and needles, practically holding my breath as I wait for him to finish that statement. “You never dreamed what?”

He meets my gaze once more, looking determined now. “That you could want me.”

I’m shaken by his raw honesty. That couldn’t have been easy to admit. “Well, I do.”

“You hardly know me.”

“I know you’re a good man. And I know I’m attracted to you. Isn’t that a good start?”

His eyes widen at my confession, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Your scars don’t detract from your appearance, John. If anything, they’re a badge of courage. An indication of your strength and resilience.”

He chuckles nervously. “You get all that from some burn scars?”

“No, not from the scars.” I take a step toward him, reaching out to cup the right side of his face. I brush my thumb across his full lower lip, then along the upper edge of his trim beard.

When his eyes drift shut and he lets out a shaky breath, I know I’m right, at least about his character. This means something to him. It’s not just an opportunity for a quick fuck. It’s more, so much more.

Taking a risk, I lift my free hand as if I’m going to cup the left side of his face, but I pause halfway, giving him a chance to pull away. “Can I touch your face?”

Even though his posture is tense, his gaze wary, he nods.

Gently, I press my fingers to his left cheek. The skin on that side of his face is slightly darker and tight. There are some ridges and indentations, some wrinkles and puckers.

He shudders when I gently brush my thumb over his cheek.

I pull my hand back. “Does that hurt?”

“No. It feels—weird. Many of the nerves in my face were damaged. Some of them have grown back, but not all. It’s been a slow process.”

I nod, understanding both his explanation and admiring the courage it must take for him to open up like this. To allow himself to be vulnerable. I have a feeling he doesn’t do it often. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Yeah.” He breathes a sigh of relief, as if he’s off the hook for the moment.

I sit first, giving him the option on where he wants to sit. He can sit with me on the sofa, or he can take the chair and keep some distance between us.

To my surprise, he chooses the sofa, dropping down beside me. Our bodies are just inches apart.

“Have you been with someone since you were hurt?” I ask.

He nods. “A few times.” He gives me a self-recriminating look. “They were random hook-ups. Women I met in bars. They were drunk; I was drunk.” He pauses as if he’s deciding how much to reveal. “It didn’t go well.”

“Why not?” I hate asking, but I need to know if he has physical limitations I should be aware of.

He shrugs. “They were mostly curious, mostly gawkers. I think I was a pity fuck to them. Each time they walked out afterward without saying a word.”

I wince at the harshness of his words. “I’m so sorry.”

He turns to face me. “Gabrielle, I—you’re an amazing woman and I don’t deserve you. But for some crazy reason you seem to like me—”

I lean in and kiss him, pressing my lips to his. “Yes, I like you. A lot.” I reach for his left hand, squeezing it gently through the glove.

He closes his eyes, and again I’m afraid I’ve hurt him. I release his hand. “I’m sorry—”

“No!” His eyes pop back open. “I’m not used to being touched. It’ll take some gettin’ used to.”

“Do you feel comfortable taking your glove off?”

His jaw tightens, but nevertheless he nods. “All right.” After tugging it off, he lays it on the coffee table. First his hat, and now his glove. He’s removing his shields, one by one.

I reach for his scarred hand, holding it in both of mine. Like his face, the skin is tight and smooth, almost shiny in places. There are slight puckers and ridges on the back of his hand. Gently, I run the tip of my index finger across the back of it, following the contours. “It doesn’t hurt?”

“No, it’s fine. It feels strange, but I’m used to it by now.” He slips the fingers of his other hand into my hair and lets the strands of my hair run through his fingers. “It’s beautiful.” His gaze latches onto mine. “You’re beautiful. Not just physically, although that’s certainly true, but in here.” He taps my temple and then my chest. “You’re smart and talented and kind. And above all, brave.”

“Brave? Me?”

“Sure. You rode a horse up into the mountains without a second thought.”

I laugh. “You’re giving me way too much credit. I was petrified. I’m just good at hiding it.”

He smiles. “Plus, you put up with the L.A. trio.” His expression sobers. “Gabrielle, I’ve wanted you since I spotted you in the airport. The moment I first saw you, I thought I was gazing upon an angel.”

I reach for his hand. “John, would you like to stay the night?”

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he finally nods. “Yeah, I would. I’d like that.”

“Me, too.”

He kisses me, only this time it’s different. It’s hotter and hungrier. His guard is down. He turns to me, sinking both of his hands into my hair and pulling me close to deepen the physical connection. His grip is strong, almost demanding, and my body responds, my nerve endings lighting up. It’s been a while since I’ve been intimate with someone, but my body hasn’t forgotten what to do. My pulse speeds up and my breasts tighten, my nipples puckering almost painfully. My belly clenches in delicious anticipation of what’s to come.

Oh, crap. “Do you have a condom? I don’t.”

“Shit, no.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Let me think. I have some in my cabin. I can run back there—no, wait. There are some downstairs in the men’s restroom.” He stands. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

And then he’s out the door, moving faster than I’ve ever seen him move. He didn’t even bother to put on his hat or glove.

I smile, enjoying the sense of excitement I’m feeling. Then I jump up from the sofa and race to the bathroom to freshen up. Having spur-of-the-moment sex was not on today’s Bingo card, so I need to get ready. I wash up quickly, and just as I finish brushing my teeth, I hear my apartment door close.

“Gabrielle?” He sounds almost hesitant, as if he’s afraid I’ve changed my mind and run for the hills.

“Just a sec! I’m in the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay.” He sounds relieved. “No problem. Take your time.”

When I return to the living room wearing only my top and underwear, his dark eyes widen. Then he skims the length of my bare legs, from my thighs to my toes. He’s breathing hard, and I realize he hurried to get back.

We both move forward as if gravity is drawing us together. I step into his embrace, loving the feel of his strong arms wrapping around me and holding me close.

I breathe in his scent, and my body starts to tingle all the way down to my toes. I like the way he smells—masculine and tantalizing. I detect a hint of soap and maybe a touch of cologne, but what I really like is his own scent.

I shiver. This is really happening.

I reach for his hand—it just happens to be his left hand—and lead him to my bedroom at the end of the hall. I flip the light switch, which turns on a lamp on the dresser.

He immediately switches it off. “Do you mind if we skip the lights?”

“No, I don’t mind.” I could kick myself for not realizing he’d feel more comfortable with the light off. “Can we leave the door open?” The light in the living room is still on, casting the tiniest bit of illumination into the bedroom. At least enough that I can navigate the room without running into the bed and stubbing my toe.

“Sure, that’s fine.”

I sit on the bed and watch as he starts to unbutton his shirt. When he hesitates, I wonder if he’s having second thoughts. I don’t say anything. I wait patiently, letting him decide. Finally, he releases the last of the buttons and lets his shirt fall to the floor. Then he whips off his T-shirt, leaving his torso bare. He drops his arms to his sides and stands still as I look my fill.

He watches me study him, patient and resigned to reveal himself. On impulse, I pull my top off and toss it to the floor, too. Now I’m sitting on the bed in my underwear and bra—and they don’t even match.

His eyes lock onto my newly bared body, and my actions have the desired effect. He’s so preoccupied looking at my body that he’s not paying any attention to the fact I’m looking at his.

His fingers go to his belt buckle, and he pulls the leather strap free from his jeans. He unsnaps and unzips, then pushes his jeans down his long legs. Belatedly, he realizes he still has his boots on. He laughs as he bends over to remove them, and his socks, before he can finally step out of his jeans.

He’s wearing a pair of black boxer-briefs that lovingly hug his hips and the tops of his muscular thighs. Naturally, my gaze zeroes in on the package straining against his fly. The rather impressive package. My body starts throbbing in the most delicious way.

I’m captivated by the sight of his body—his ridged abs, muscular arms, and broad shoulders. He has striking tattoos that stretch from his pecs to his shoulders, as well as smaller ones on his sides. He’s magnificent. Every inch of him is perfectly formed and hewn through hard physical work.

Now it’s my turn. I reach behind me to unsnap my bra and let the garment slide off me. Of all my physical attributes, I’d have to say my breasts are my best feature. Gravity has been kind to them, and they’re holding up quite well, if I do say so myself. My nipples are a dusky pink, and the mounds are sprinkled with faint freckles.

When he simply stares at me, I smile. “John?”

“What?” His gaze snaps back to mine. “Sorry. It’s just—God, you’re gorgeous.”

I smile. “So are you.”

And then, I swear, he blushes. “Hardly.”

I rise from the bed and walk to him. My fingers slide beneath the waistband of his underwear. Slowly, I shimmy them down, past his hips and thighs, to the floor. I glance down at his erection. Now that he’s finally free, I can appreciate the true length and breadth of him. Oh, my.

I curl my fingers around him, gripping him firmly, and sink to my knees on the soft rug beneath us. I love the male body, and I love pleasuring my partner. I’m only too happy to—

“Oh, no.” John pulls me up onto my feet.

“I want to.”

He shakes his head. “Sweetheart, if your mouth so much as brushes against me, it’ll be over before it even started.” He laughs. “It’s been a long time for me. I’ll be lucky to last five minutes this first time.”

“A rain check, then?”

“Absolutely. Now come here.” He pulls me into his arms and dips his head to trail kisses across my shoulder. “You have freckles everywhere.”

I close my eyes and swallow a moan. His kisses feel amazing. “Don’t remind me.”

“They’re beautiful, Gabrielle.” He peppers my throat with more kisses—making me shiver—then my cheeks, the bridge of my nose, and my forehead. “They remind me of sprinkles.”

“That’s me—a giant pumpkin spice cupcake.”

He smiles down at me. “I love cupcakes.” When he effortlessly sweeps me off my feet, I squeal in surprise. He carries me to the bed and lays me down on the center of the mattress. He tugs my panties off and tosses them aside before climbing onto the bed.

“Condom!” I remind him.

He freezes. “Right.” After retrieving his jeans from the floor, he pulls a strip of three condom packets from the pocket and tosses them onto the nightstand.

“Three? Someone’s feeling awfully confident.”

He smiles as he kneels on the edge of the bed. “I just want to be prepared.” He braces his hands on either side of my head and leans down to kiss me. “You’re sure about this?”

When I feel his arms shaking, I reach up and brush his hair back. “I’m sure.”