His hands framed her face and he captured her gaze with a searching one of his own as he slowly, smoothly claimed her.
She closed her eyes at the intensity of it. Tremors racking her body, her mouth opening in an involuntary, silent sigh.
His movement ceased completely.
‘Gabe?’ She looked at him, startled by the expression of pain on his face.
‘It’s not right that something that feels so good for me should be hurting you,’ he whispered gruffly.
‘It’s not hurting,’ she breathed. ‘Honest it’s not. It feels …’ She paused to consider whether saying ‘overwhelming’ would be wise or not. But as she deliberated he tensed, and suddenly all thought fled. ‘Do that again,’ she demanded.
‘Do what?’ He looked agonised.
‘Move like that again.’
He tensed, pressing that touch closer, then released.
‘Like that,’ she breathed, smiling. ‘That’s amazing.’
Gently he thrust closer. ‘Yeah,’ He smiled back. ‘Amazing.’
His hand splayed across her bottom, pushing her pelvis towards his until she grasped the rhythm. She wound her arms around him, holding tighter as his movement became faster, more fluid, stronger as he was sure of her pleasure.
‘I knew it would be like this,’ she murmured, almost mindless with bliss, wanting it never to end.
‘Like what?’ he asked raggedly.
‘Perfect.’
He combed his fingers through her hair, his palm cupping the side of her face, holding her still so he could kiss the soul out of her. He broke it, looked into her eyes with those bottomless pools. She gazed back at him, their breathing mingling, meshing as one as their bodies did the same.
But she hadn’t known it would be this intense. That she would feel this close to him emotionally as well as physically. She brushed a kiss across his shoulder so she could break that heart-stopping eye contact. When she glanced back at him he too had closed his eyes. She smiled when she saw how good it felt for him too. She ran her hands down his back, pressing him closer.
He surged harder, faster. ‘Okay?’ he muttered.
‘Just don’t stop.’ Her eyes opened, wide, her vision suddenly acute as sensations shuddered through her. She ran her hands over him. Suddenly understanding that he was hers to touch now. That there was so much to explore and that until that moment she’d been doing exactly what he’d jeered he didn’t want—just lying there.
So now she touched, now she hungered. She spread her legs wider, wrapping them round his hips to trap him in place while her hands swept south, searching out all his masculine secrets.
‘Roxie,’ he choked. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.
‘I thought you didn’t want someone just lying there,’ she gasped. ‘You don’t want me to touch you?’
‘Oh, I do. Later. But I won’t last if you touch me like that now.’
She arched anyway, her body exposed and vulnerable to his. It struck her that at this one moment she was in his total possession. But she was also in his complete care. And he was taking such wicked, wonderful care as he bore down on her over and over and over until she convulsed beneath him, her body finally finding its long-sought completion.
His jaw was locked, his eyes burning as he watched her, ensuring her physical fulfilment. She wasn’t just fulfilled, she was all but delirious with ecstasy.
Gabe didn’t think he’d ever breathe normally again—he seemed to be playing an impossible game of catch-up with his pulse. He’d always cared about whether his partner had a good time with him, but he’d wanted it to be better than good for her. He knew it would be unforgettable—it was her first time after all—but he’d wanted it to be unforgettable for so many more reasons than that.
So now he faced the uncomfortable truth. He hadn’t had sex with her. He’d made love to her. Just a very little love—which was as new to him as it was to her. And in those moments in her arms, connected with her, he’d have done anything for her. A loss of free will he’d never before experienced. She might have lost her virginity, but he’d lost something too. Some part of himself was now locked within her and he wasn’t sure he was going to get it back. A chunk of his heart he only now realised he’d actually had. He figured it served him right.
He also figured he could live without it. After all, he’d only just discovered it anyway so he could hardly miss it now. Besides, he was too busy wondering how soon until she’d be ready to take him again, or whether she was too tender—emotionally as well as physically. He frowned. He really had to keep a lid on this somehow. Stop her from wanting too much other than the physical. Because he really wanted her to want some more physical. But how the hell did he balance it?
‘You like sleeping in here?’ She broke the silence lazily, stretching out on the bed beside him with a little moan that made his blood rush all over his beat body.
‘It has the best view,’ he answered without thinking.
From his bed he could see straight out that one window across the floor—its view encompassed the garage, and that other window in the flat above.
‘Have you been watching me?’
He could hear her smile. ‘I’ve seen you in the garden a few times. But you know that.’
She rolled towards him, then he felt her smile kiss his shoulder. ‘Yes, I know.’
He cleared his throat. Hoped she didn’t think he’d been watching because he was besotted or anything. She wore the skimpiest shorts and vest-top combos ever—of course he looked. Any man would. Oh, man, how did he handle this now?
But she rose up onto her elbow and peered, reading his expression. ‘Stop looking so worried, Gabe. I’m not going to fall in love with you,’ she scoffed.
He stared at her. Since when was he that much of an open book?
She smiled—easy and amused and happy. ‘I told you last night, I’m not going to want anything more from you.’
Good. ‘Cos he didn’t want that either—right? Only now, contrarily, he did want more. More like right now.
She leaned right over him, brushing her hair back behind her ears, her blue eyes looking earnestly into his. ‘You know I’m not interested in a relationship, right? As fantastic as that was and as gorgeous as you are.’
He managed to nod. She’d just spoken words he’d said so often in the past.
‘This was just a one-off.’
A one-off? Really? ‘Sure.’ He faked a grin.
She smiled wider, clearly genuine. ‘Great. The minute the whistle blows on the final this season, I’m out of here. I’m booking my ticket as soon as the bank lets me.’
‘You really are?’ He’d been wondering about those plans of hers.
‘Yeah, so don’t renege on our rental agreement, will you? I need the money to pay for it.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘I won’t.’
‘Great.’ She slipped out of the bed with a way too energetic wriggle. ‘I really appreciate your effort today. Thank you.’
So that was it? He’d helped her lose the virgin tag and she’d appreciated his effort in doing so? It was like getting a report card from school. His effort? Where was the bloody award of excellence? Didn’t she know out-of-this-world sex when she had it?
His heart seized. One day she’d learn that that hadn’t been average sex. He tried to stop that direction of his thoughts—because the idea of her being in some other guy’s arms, of some guy not doing it good enough for her? Oh, now he was beyond grumpy. His freaking effort? The more he thought about it, the more it stung. The more he wanted to roar.
She glanced back, brows lifting at his silence and her skin suddenly washed beet red. ‘Oh, I’m sorry about …’
He glanced down, then quickly covered the stained sheet. ‘Forget it.’
But it was as if she had already. Oh, the irony. He was the one feeling like the emotional innocent. As if sleeping with someone made you feel something more than mere physical fun. Intimacy. Caring. As if
it all should have mattered so much more to her than to warrant a good effort sticker. Damn. He couldn’t be feeling used because he’d known exactly what she’d wanted. It was what he’d wanted too. Those desires had finally converged and now it was finished. Right? Sure.
She was slipping her dress over her head, not bothering with either bra or knickers. He was trying hard not to get turned on by that. And failing.
‘You’re going?’ he asked.
It was obvious doofus. Did he have to make his unexpectedly massive disappointment just as obvious?
‘Yeah, you’ve got to get to work later, right?’ she answered breezily. ‘And I need to do some work in the garden.’
She wanted to garden over spending more time in bed with him? That was a kicker. To his bemusement she walked out of the room. A minute later he sat up, watching out of the window as she took the trail through the tomato plants to the rickety flight of stairs along the garage’s rear wall. He peeled his aching body from the bed. No way was he going to spend the afternoon watching her shaking it in the garden.
He drove to the beach, pushed through the physical exhaustion to run a mile along the shore. The entire time he thought of nothing but her—wanting nothing more than to be snuggled with her and sound asleep. And the doubts started, the worries. He found himself walking instead of running and chewing on his blasted thumbnail. Because now he wanted to know for sure that she really was okay. Maybe she was back at that house feeling all anxious. Maybe her casual goodbye this morning had been all façade—an attempt at sophistication like her hair and her lip gloss and her damn fake chicken fillets. Maybe she was up in that horrendous bedsit of hers bawling her eyes out and about to go scary emo on him.
Oh, hell. Hadn’t he better go make sure she was okay?
CHAPTER EIGHT