Chapter 20: Gabrielle

Chapter 20 – Gabrielle

I should have thought this through better. I didn’t bring anything with me other than our dinners. No PJs, no toothbrush, no hair brush, nothing. Fortunately, John has a package of spare toothbrushes in his bathroom cupboard.

“Help yourself,” he says. “As for pajamas, you won’t be needing those tonight.” He stands in the bathroom doorway and watches me brush my hair first, then my teeth. He reaches out and strokes my hair. “It’s like a flame.”

I chuckle as I spit and rinse. “It was a nightmare for me as a kid. I was teased mercilessly. If I hear another joke about carrot top, I’ll lose it.”

He smiles. “They were just jealous.”

After I leave the bathroom, he takes his turn. I wander through the upstairs of his cabin, checking out the two bedrooms. The larger of the two rooms has a bookcase filled with westerns, everything from the classics by Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour to more contemporary authors. “You like to read westerns?” I ask when he walks into the bedroom.

He shrugs. “It’s what I know.”

When I turn to look at him, I’m surprised to see his shirt off. The sight of his bare chest takes my breath away—his body is rock solid and muscular, as I would expect considering all the physical work he does. But what’s more surprising is that he’s baring himself to me. Trusting me like this is a huge step for him.

I smile, and my cheeks heat. His muscles are chiseled, his arms and shoulders, his abdomen. He’s still got his jeans on and a brown leather belt. His feet are bare. Everything about him screams sexy and masculine. I’ve never been with a man like him. The guys I dated back home were academics and accountants. They never had reason to get their hands dirty. John is pure cowboy. He’s rough around the edges, yet full of integrity, and I find that combination sexy as hell.

When I start unbuttoning my top, his dark eyes widen slightly. I can tell he’s trying to act nonchalant, but his jaws are clenched, and his nostrils flare a bit. He’s excited.

Good. Because I am, too.

I toss my top onto a wooden chair beside the bed and stand there to let him look his fill. I’m wearing a cream lace bra and panty set—yeah, I planned ahead. The pale color of the ensemble contrasts nicely with my skin and freckles.

As I reach behind me to unsnap my bra strap, he steps forward and shakes his head. When he motions for me to turn around, I do so, lowering my arms to let him do the honors.

His warm fingertips brush against my back, sending a delicious shiver skating down my spine. I realize he must have noticed my reaction because he chuckles softly.

“I’m going to make you do a lot more than shiver,” he says.

His voice has dropped to a low, resonant octave, and the sound of it makes me weak in the knees.

My bra ends up on the chair, too. And then, to my surprise, I discover he’s not done. He reaches for the waistband of my slacks and gently tugs them down past my hips, down my legs. The only thing I’m wearing now is my panties.

I feel his warm breath on my bare shoulder—another shiver. Then his lips press soft kisses there. When he reaches around me, the fingers of his right hand slip beneath the waistband of my underwear, giving me the tiniest of warnings. I lean my head back onto his shoulder and groan.

Sure enough, he slips the fingers of his right hand into my panties, slowly skimming down to the warm, tingling spot where my thighs meet. I suck in a shaky breath and swallow a moan.

“Open your legs for me,” he murmurs. His rough voice does incredible things to me. When I do as he says, he slips a long finger between the lips of my sex and groans in my ear. “God, you’re so wet.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to my throat, gently sucking on my skin.

I know he’s going to leave a mark—a brand on my skin—and yet I don’t do anything to stop him. I want this. I want his mark on me.

“You are so sweet,” he whispers.

His finger glides easily between my legs, sliding through my wet arousal. He teases my clitoris with firm little circles before slipping his finger down to my opening. Now he’s tormenting me on two fronts, with his finger slipping inside me, and his thumb rubbing tight little circles on my clit.

Electricity shoots through me, firing all my nerve endings. My sex, my belly, my nipples, even my scalp—every inch of me is tingling. My legs turn to jelly, and I’m afraid I can’t stay upright for much longer. When I stumble, he steadies me with his left hand.

“John.” My voice comes out breathy.

His lips kiss their way down my throat and across my shoulder. “What is it, sweetheart? Tell me what you want.”

I chuckle shakily. “I want more of what you’re doing.” My belly clenches hotly, and my thighs stiffen. I close my eyes and lose myself in the sensations swamping me. “I’m so close.”

His attention intensifies. His long finger has reached the sweet spot inside me, and his thumb is tormenting my clit. This man is diabolical. I realize last night was just an appetizer. I have a feeling he’s going to slay me this time.

I cry out when the fireworks go off deep inside me. I don’t even recognize the sounds I’m making—loud, keening cries. I’ve never come so hard with a partner before—I’m practically seeing stars.

When my legs give out on me, he catches me in his strong arms and carries me to his bed, laying me down on top of a navy-blue comforter. I lie there, trying to catch my breath, and watch mesmerized as he finishes undressing. My gaze is glued to his fingers as they unbuckle his belt. He pulls it free and tosses it onto the chair. Then he unsnaps his jeans, lowers the zipper, and shoves them and his underwear down his long legs.

I drink in the sight of him as he retrieves a condom from the nightstand drawer. He tosses it on the bed, and then he takes hold of the waistband of my panties and gently tugs them off me. They end up on the chair with the rest of our clothing.

Before I know his intention, he climbs onto the bed and positions himself between my legs, spreading my thighs to make room for his broad shoulders. I feel his hot breath bathing my still-throbbing sex.

“I can’t,” I say. I lay my hands on his shoulders and gently push him back. “I already came.”

He lifts his face to meet my gaze. “So, come again.”

“I can’t. I’ve never been able to—”

“Then you’ve had the wrong lovers, honey.”

I gasp when I feel his hot tongue there, suddenly, without warning. The pleasure is exquisite, and my thighs start to shake. He’s relentless, teasing and tormenting me, and almost immediately my belly starts quivering again. Pleasure swamps me.

“John.” I fist the comforter. My heels dig into the mattress.

His strong hands hold my thighs open, pressing them apart, baring every inch of me to his hungry attention.

His lips latch onto my clit, and his gentle sucking makes me see stars. “Holy crap!” I gasp.

He chuckles, and I feel the vibration against my flesh.

Mindless now, I release the bedding and dig my fingers into his hair, tugging on the strands. “John! Please!”

His finger slips inside me once more, finding my sweet spot with unerring precision. He strokes me in unison with the fluttering of his tongue.

When I come again, it’s just as intense as it was the first time around—maybe even more so because my body is like a live wire. While I’m catching my breath and trying to recover, he grabs the condom, lies on his back beside me, and tears open the packet. I finally get a really good look at his erection just before he sheathes himself.

Oh, my.

I have been dating the wrong men.

He comes up over me, slides his hand between my thighs, and opens me once more. I suck in a breath as he guides himself to my opening. Pressure follows, then a stretch and a sense of fullness, and then finally a delicious heat as he sinks slowly into me.

“Let me know if I’m going too quickly, or if I’m being too rough.” His voice is gruff.

But it’s not too much. “It’s perfect,” I say. We fit perfectly.

He braces his hands on either side of my head, careful not to crush me beneath his weight. He starts moving, slowly at first, giving my body time to adjust. Gradually, he picks up the speed.

I gaze up into his face, my eyes locking with his, and see so much emotion there. My throat tightens. I reach around him and stroke his back, amazed by the powerful ropey muscles flexing beneath my fingers. He’s definitely not a city boy.

I’m swept away by his strength and power. It’s not too much, and he’s not too rough, or if he is, I like it.

When he comes, his body tenses, his muscles tightening. His arms stiffen, his back bows, and his head arches back on his strong neck. I think he’s trying to hold back, but his cry is loud, practically shaking the rafters.

Gradually, he slows his thrusts and soon they’re languid, gentle movements. My body is still tingling from two orgasms and from the stimulation of feeling him driving hard into me.

He rolls us onto our sides. We’re still joined together, and neither one of us seems in a rush to separate. He brushes my hair back from my damp face and gives me long, slow kisses.

Finally, although we’re both loathe to leave the bed, he goes across the hall to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he returns to bed, I take my turn in the bathroom. As I stand at the sink to wash my hands, I notice a small hickey blooming on my throat. I smile at the sight. So, he did manage to leave his mark. In more ways than one.

When I’m done, I turn off the light and make my way in the dark back to his bed. As soon as I’m on the mattress, he pulls me close. I realize he pulled back the comforter and sheet. He snuggles up behind me so that we’re spooning, his arm around my waist. He slides one of his legs between mine.

I lie there quietly, feeling his breath on my shoulder. Occasionally, he presses light kisses to the back of my head. I’ve never felt more cherished and better cared for.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t hurt you?”

I smile in the darkness. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

I laugh softly. “Yes.”

I feel his lips in my hair once more. “Sweet dreams. Tomorrow we’ll go on a little adventure. Just the two of us this time.”

“We’re not bringing the L.A. Trio?”

“God, no. They’re heading home in the morning.”

“Good. I’ve had enough of Brittany ogling your ass.”

He laughs, his chest vibrating against my back. “She was staring at my ass?”

“Yes. Don’t you dare act surprised. You have a very fine ass.”

John tightens his arm around my waist. “I’m glad you think so. That’s all that matters.”

* * *

After waking up, we decide to meet up at the restaurant for breakfast. I leave the cabin so I can return to my apartment to shower, change into camping-appropriate attire, and pack an overnight bag.

“Pack light,” John warned me before we parted ways this morning. “We have to carry everything we bring with us, so just the essentials, please. And it’ll be chilly up there at night, so dress warmly. Bring a jacket and warm pajamas. Although, I promise I’ll keep you warm.”

I know he won’t have any trouble keeping that promise, because his body radiates heat like a furnace. I do as he requested and pack only warm PJs and a change of clothes for tomorrow. I fill a small toiletries bag with the necessities and a spare battery for my phone. Even though I won’t have any cell service up there, I can still use my phone to take pictures. It also makes a great flashlight and, of course, an e-reader.

This morning I’m dressed in blue jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and short hiking boots. I tie the sleeves of my jacket around my waist, keeping it handy in case I need it.

I leave my bags in my apartment, just inside the door, and head down to the restaurant to help out this morning before we leave.

As soon as I step into the dining room, Hannah calls my name and waves me over to the table she’s sharing with Killian. It looks like they’re halfway through breakfast.

“Sit,” Hannah says, pointing to the empty seat across from hers.

I sit. “Hey, guys, good morning.”

Hannah swallows her food. “Where were you last night? I stopped by your apartment, but you weren’t home. And then I tried again this morning, but there was no answer. Is everything okay?”

Feeling awkward, I meet her gaze, then Killian’s. They both look eager for an explanation, but I think it’s more out of curiosity than outright concern.

“Well.” My face heats up, giving me away.

“Oh, my God,” Hannah says, pointing her fork at me. “You were out all night, weren’t you?” The fact that she’s grinning helps. At least she doesn’t seem upset.

Of course I’m blushing. I’m terrible at keeping secrets. “I may have had a sleepover last night.”

“With Chris?” she asks.

I swallow hard. I guess it’s time to let the cat out of the bag. “No, with John.”

Hannah’s brows knit together. “John?”

As Killian chokes on his coffee, he smacks his palm on the table. “I told you, babe,” he says to Hannah.

“But I thought—you said—” Hannah seems more than a little confused.

“When you asked me if I knew I had a secret admirer, I thought you were talking about John.”

Killian holds his hand out to Hannah. “Pay up, babe. Five bucks.”

“You guys bet on this?” I ask, surprised but also amused.

Hannah rolls her eyes. “Killian thought there was something going on between you and John. Or, to be more specific, he thought John was crushing on you. I told him he was nuts. I thought it was Chris. So, yeah, we bet on it.” She shakes her head. “John? Really?”

I nod.

“But, he’s so—I don’t know, standoffish, I guess. I never would have put the two of you together. You’re so you—all sunshine and positivity— and he’s such a grump.”

“He’s misunderstood. I’ve gotten to know him—”

“How well?” Hannah asks.

I don’t even have to answer because my expression gives me away.

“Oh, my God,” Hannah says. Then she’s distracted by something across the room. “Speak of the devil, your misunderstood cowboy just walked in.”

I turn to look, and when I spot John standing just inside the restaurant, I wave him over.

Almost reluctantly, he walks over to the table. “Mornin’, Hannah,” he says. He tips the brim of his cowboy hat. “Killian.” Then he looks down at me, and immediately his expression softens, and I see a hint of a smile. “Gabrielle.”

“You can stop pretending,” Hannah says. She points at the empty chair beside mine. “You might as well have a seat and join us for breakfast. We know everything.”

“I hope not everything,” John says, drawing out the word. He winks at me. As he starts for the buffet, he motions for me to join him.

Smiling stupidly, I jump up from my chair and follow after him. It looks like the cat is definitely out of the bag.