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And then he was giving her what she so desperately wanted. He pounded into her with everything he had, and she rose to meet him, thrust for thrust. When Gabe lifted her slightly, switching their angle to create an even deeper penetration, the pleasure became so acute that Hope released a sharp cry before she could stop herself.
Bending his head close to her ear again, Gabe whispered, “Quiet, Hope.”
Moaning, she thrashed her head from side to side as the pressure and pleasure mounted. She’d never felt so alive. Every movement was agonizingly erotic, and her inner muscle spasmed with another impending orgasm. She didn’t know how she’d get through another blinding release without uttering a sound.
The only noises in the room were their harsh breathing and the slapping of their bodies driving mercilessly into each other. Silence had never been more carnal.
Hope’s legs and arms trembled around Gabe as she struggled to hang on to some control. But the weight of his body on hers, his rough rhythmic thrusting, and the way his pelvis rubbed against her core with just the right pressure pushed her to a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and the tension snapped.
To stop herself from releasing the scream building inside her, she sunk her teeth into Gabe’s shoulder. He hissed out a sharp breath as her orgasm consumed her, and she clung onto him for dear life.
Through the blood rushing in her ears, she heard Gabe swear viscously as his own release hit him. With a final grunt, he jerked against her, then tensed, his head thrown back as he gave himself over to the ecstasy.
Then his big body slumped over her, gasping for air
She might have blacked out after that. She couldn’t be a hundred percent sure, but her next conscious thought was that Gabe was flat on his back, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, cradling her against him. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and steady.
He looked serene and sated, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. She ran a tentative hand down the slope between his toned pecs, then up along his arm, and over his bicep, tracing the tattoo that was etched there. A blackbird in flight.
She traced the curve of one wing, wondering what it represented.
“The song.” Gabe’s sleep roughened voice answered her question before she could ask it. “The song ‘Blackbird.’ Carrie used to sing it to Ruby when she was fussy and wouldn’t sleep.”
Hope’s heart rolled over painfully as she pictured the young woman—from the photo Ruby had shown her—singing the melodic song in a hushed tone as her child fell asleep in her arms.
It was beautiful—and heartbreaking. She stared at Gabe’s tattoo with renewed appreciation. It was more than a piece of art. It was an epitaph of what once was and would never be again. She didn’t have to worry about taking Carrie’s place or erasing her memory. It wasn’t possible. Carrie was etched here, on Gabe’s skin forever. Never to be lost. And knowing that, seeing it, was oddly reassuring.
As if sensing her shift in mood, Gabe lifted his arm, taking the tattoo out of her view, and tugged her head down onto his chest.
The temptation to curl into him and sleep until morning was almost more than she could resist, but she knew she had to leave because there was no way in heck she wanted his daughter to eventually walk in and see her in bed with him.
No way.
“I have to go,” she whispered, even as her disobedient fingertips skated against the taut flesh of his broad chest.
He tensed under her touch, then rolled over in one swift athletic movement so that she was once again under him. Nudging her legs apart, he settled between them like he was made to be there. When his hardness brushed against her, the very last of her good intentions flew out the window.
“Not yet,” he whispered before claiming her mouth in a searing kiss.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Hope slept like the dead. Which made sense since Gabe kept her awake long into the night. Somewhere after three in the morning, she’d lost count of her orgasms. In all her life, she’d have never thought she’d live the myth of making love through the night. But she had.
And oh, how she’d lived it. Her body felt deliciously sore and used in the very best of ways and places. Gabe was the kind of lover they wrote books about. Thorough and demanding, yet tender and patient. His stamina had been impressive.
So impressive she ended up staying far longer than she intended, and the light was starting to fall through the slats of the bedroom blinds, signaling dawn. Beside her, Gabe was asleep, but she gave a little wiggle just to make sure he was out as cold as he looked. Then, with what she considered impressive ninja-like maneuvers, she extracted herself from his embrace without moving him an inch.
Looking down at his sleeping form, she allowed herself a smug smile, knowing that she’d exhausted him as much as he’d exhausted her. She thought of their night together and shuddered with renewed lust. After all that, how could she still be ready to jump on him for another round? It wasn’t a good sign. She could feel herself getting attached, and she couldn’t. It was too fast, too much, and too soon. She hadn’t come to Portland looking for this.
Her smile faded as she collected her clothes, put them on and tiptoed out of the room. The hall was dark and quiet. Ruby’s door at the far end was shut tight. Feeling like a teenager sneaking out of her boyfriend’s house at dawn, Hope crept on tiptoes to the door, turned the knob as slowly and quietly as she could. Outside, she took a moment to exhale the breath she’d been holding before sprinting across the main hallway to her apartment.
Unlike her stealth exit from Gabe’s apartment, she flung herself gracelessly and frantically into her own. Shutting her front door behind her with a near slam, she pressed herself against the inside of her door, breathing hard. Once she caught her breath, she opened her eyes and looked right into a pair of confused blue ones.
Ivy was bent on one knee, tying her running shoe, her fingers still knotted in the laces as she twisted the loops. Her gaze scanned Hope, taking in her likely disheveled appearance. Hope watched the light dawn in Ivy’s eyes and her jaw sag open.
“You didn’t.”
Hope, still plastered to the door, blew out an indignant breath, and tried her best to sound the height of offended. “Of course I didn’t.”
