AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And there she was, curled up on her side, fast asleep. In the dimness of the room, her usually sunny-blonde hair looked like a dark gold waterfall cascading over her shoulders. Her hands were tucked under her chin, and her chest rose and fell with the deep breaths of slumber. As he walked closer to her, his gaze caught on two pieces of paper lying on the coffee table in front of her. Two pieces of paperand a photograph.
Crouching, he picked up the photo. It was of Carrie, holding a six-month-old Ruby. It was the last photo he’d taken of her. The papers were drawings. One was clearly Ruby’s. It was of her, him, and Carrie. She’d put wings on Carrie like she always did when she drew them as a family.
But it was the second drawing that truly captivated him. It was almost identical in design to the one Ruby had created but the rendering of each individual in their trio, meticulously drawn in pencil, was spot on. Completely mesmerizing.
Like Ruby’s picture, Carrie had wings. But in Hope’s, they were drawn in a way that made them look so realistic he could almost feel their softness. And Carrie looked angelic. Radiant.
Hope had captured her likeness, almost like she’d drawn her from a live portrait. Carrie’s hair rioted wildly around her shoulders, and she looked so alive she almost came off the page.
Six years had passed since he’d last seen her, held her, talked to her. As he ran his finger along the beauty of her face, a sad wistfulness gripped his heart. The pain wasn’t the same as it used to be. No longer sharp and agonizing. Now only a dull ache, contemplative of what had been his world so long ago. His present grief was a regret that surfaced from time to time, reminding him of all that Ruby had missed while growing up without her mother.
He missed Carrie, and the sting of frustration still hit him when he thought back to those days. He’d been so self-consumed and immersed in his fledgling business that he wasn’t aware of how hard things had been for her as a new mother. If he’d known, had paid closer attention, he couldn’t help feeling that he could’ve changed the outcome of her short life.
He’d been carrying his grief for a long time now. He’d also accepted she was gone, the role he’d played in that, and did his best to honor her by raising their daughter as best he could while keeping her memory alive in their home and family. After six years, Carrie had been gone longer than the total time he’d known her, which he found unbelievable. He still loved her, and while he knew a part of him would love her the rest of his life, he didn’t long for her the way he once had.
Alone in his bed at night, it wasn’t Carrie who crept into his dreams. The hard nights of longing for her had passed, and he no longer felt guilty for not needing her night after night. He hadn’t needed or longed for a woman for years.
Not until recently, when his nights had filled with yearning for a certain blonde with dark brown eyes that always seemed to carry a world of sorrow and mistrust in them. A beautiful, creative, giving woman who’d fitted herself into his life effortlessly.
Gazing at Hope sleeping on his couch, that yearning now spread from his heart down to his gut, and lower still. He glanced from Hope to the beautiful drawing she created, then back to Hope again, marveling at her artistry and her caring heart.
Holding the picture of Carrie in his hands reminded him of just how precious life was. And how quickly it could all be taken away. And how much time he had wasted already being afraid of his own emotions.
Unable to go another second without touching her, he traced his finger along the soft curve of her cheek, and she sighed in her sleep. Giving in to his need, and tired of the guilt and resistance he’d been carrying around with his growing feelings, he brushed his lips against hers.
He hadn’t meant to wake her, but with a soft inhale, she did just that. He lifted his lips a fraction, keeping them poised a breath above hers while he held her drowsy, fathomless gaze.
For a moment neither of them moved, they just held eye contact, as the warmth of their mutual breaths heated the air around them. Enough time passed that Gabe started to consider that she wasn’t on the same page as him after all. Then in one quick, surprising move, Hope tilted her face upward, closing the space between them, her lips rising to meet his.
The kiss exploded, like the weeks of building tension between them culminated into this one moment of pure and frenzied need. Hope’s lips consumed his, and when she opened her mouth for him, he dipped his tongue inside, tasting every corner. She moaned, fisting her hands in his shirt and pulling him closer. When the urge to taste more of her became almost overwhelming, he tore his lips free, tracing kisses down her jaw and onto her neck.
“Gabe,” she panted, breathless.
Sweet Jesus, the sound of his name on her lips was addictive. He vowed then and there he would do anything for her, to her, just so she’d say his name like that again. He wanted her chanting it over and over as he took her. Wanted her screaming it as he made her come.
The thought of Hope naked and writhing beneath him, shouting his name, made his desire surge like a tidal wave over his entire body. Good Lord, he was a goner for this woman. Could she feel it? Did she feel the same?
Then, all coherent thought fled when she panted a needy, “More, Gabe, please.” Her fingers clawed at his shirt, yanking it out of the waistband of his jeans. “I need more this time.”
It was all the invitation he needed. Rising up and over her on the couch, he braced himself on one shoulder and slid his hand under her shirt and tugged down the cup of her bra. “More what, sweetheart? Do you want me to touch you here?”
When she nodded enthusiastically, he let his fingers graze her nipples, teasing them lightly until her mewls of pleasure grew into groans of desperation.
Touch wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Nothing felt like enough with Hope. Not since the first moment he’d met her.
Tugging her shirt all the way up, he said “Fuck, you’re so pretty, Hope,” right before he lowered his head to her breast. A moment of relief passed through him when he tasted her. The flavor was soft and sweet under his mouth, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly. It was more than simply spending his pent-up lust, more than wanting to lose himself in the sexual bliss of orgasm. It was all Hope. And he was coming to accept it pretty damn quickly.
Her hips lifted, rubbing against him, making him ache. Her head dropped into the cushions of the couch as soft moans of pleasure fell from her lips.
He slid his hand under the waistband of her jeans, then down under her panties, and without hesitation zeroed in on the soft flesh of her core. He stroked his fingers through her, reveling in the evidence that her lust matched his. It was such a fucking turn on, knowing that this woman—who had taken up prime real estate in his brain over the last several weeks—was as desperate for him as he was for her.
“Gabe!”
He could tell she was trying to stay silent, probably mindful that Ruby slept down the hallway. And maybe he should have stopped. At the very least, he should have picked her up and brought her to his room, where he could close the door. It would have been the reasonable thing to do, but since he was pretty much beyond reason now, he didn’t move any damn thing other than his fingers as they continued to rub the slick folds between her legs.
He did want her to scream, couldn’t wait to hear her unrestrained passion as he lost himself inside her. That time would come. He knew it as much as he knew his own name, but for now, he would have to content himself by making her come so hard she’d never be able to ignore this connection between them again.
He stroked her core mercilessly, while his mouth caressed her breasts with equal devotion. The panting he heard above his head drove him halfway to insanity, but he never lost focus. Not even when the pressure in his own body built until it was nearly impossible to endure. Her pleasure here was paramount. He was starving for it, and he knew she was close, could feel her muscles tightening around his fingers. Still, he could feel her holding back, not wanting to let go. Resisting her pleasure.
