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She didn’t.
In fact, she was tender, caring, and gentle.
Only his Storm could heal him.
As she pulled his shirt from his body, she focused on the rest of him. Gamble was a fine specimen of masculinity.
“You’re smiling,” she said.
“I knocked my girl up!” he said, feeling proud of himself. “It’s a good day in my world!”
The words tortured him.
He couldn’t keep them from falling from his lips. Maybe had he not gotten her pregnant, she might not have died.
“Yeah, you did. I think you have super sperm,” she teased, feeling so much better.
He felt so sad that he could cry.
In fact, he did, but the dream ignored his tears as they streamed down his cheeks and dripped onto her.
Then, she stroked him through his pants, and his whole body reacted.
He shook as he was braced above her.
He tried not to, but he couldn’t stop it.
“Storm,” he whispered as that need for her became greater. It always would. No matter what, Storm would always call to him on some deep level.
Forever.
Even after she murdered his child and took her life, leaving him to walk into their home and find that.
He needed to escape.
Please stop and let me wake up.
Please.
Only, that didn’t happen.
“Please never stop loving me,” he whispered as he stared down at her.
“I don’t think I can stop, Gamble. I was made to love you for the rest of my life.”
He agreed there.
When her hand slid into his jeans, and she stroked him, his whole body shook.
This was the way he always wanted to be with her.
Free.
Happy.
Hers.
There was no way he could live without this intimacy. Before, he ran from it. With Storm, he held on and reveled in the moment.
