Page 72

She pulled back, looked him right in the eyes as she lowered herself slow, raised herself slower. She might have relented to his pace if he’d asked, if he’d said anything, but this order wasn’t one she was going to follow. Not here. Not now. “No.”

He held her gaze, pushing into her again, his gaze all fury… Except, no. Underneath that glittering anger was something else. Something she recognized because she saw it so often in her work.

Panic. Bone-deep fear. She might not understand why he felt that, but she could see it.

“Fuck. Me,” he ordered.

“No,” she returned just as forcefully, refusing to let him change the pace. She moved against him slowly, gently, no matter how hard he held her or how much he ordered.

He let out a breath, rough and ragged. His grip didn’t loosen, but some of that panic, that desperation, faded into weary acceptance.

She hated to see him weary, but she’d use that acceptance for everything it was worth. She kissed him, all lips and tongue and a sweetness she could tell he didn’t know what to do with. He didn’t need to know. He only needed to accept it from her.

She whispered his name into his ear, smoothed her fingers over his hair, over his neck and shoulders, and she moved at this deliciously painful, leisurely pace. Till she was so lost in finding the edge and flinging herself over it she forgot about giving or receiving or anything other than the way his body fit to hers, the way she felt whole and perfect here in his arms. A swelling joy that twined itself in with physical sensation of bursting, pulsing pleasure.

She held on to him through the wave, murmuring his name, kissing his skin, scarred and unscarred inches alike. And still she moved against him, waiting for him to find that same moment, that same joy.

“Gabe. Gabe, please.”

He shuddered through his release, his arms smoothing from her hips up her back until he was holding her. He leaned his cheek against her chest, and she held him back, resting her cheek on the top of his head.

Something too big and wonderful moved through her—a realization, painful and perfect at the same time. She practically laughed because she’d somehow tumbled all the way in love with him, and neither of them were ready for that, even a little bit.

Chapter 19

Gabe didn’t know how to describe the past hour or so. They’d extricated themselves from each other, gotten dressed in silence, and then started talking about the loss of electricity.

As if nothing before had actually happened or mattered. He tried to believe that, but Monica was quiet and withdrawn as they lit candles and collected blankets and figured out what to eat for dinner that wouldn’t require electricity.

They spoke, he supposed, but not really. You could speak to someone without ever communicating a thing, and that was definitely what they were doing.

Which suited him just fine. Down to the bone, in fact. Rather cut his tongue out than do more damn talking.

He slapped together a sandwich, though he didn’t feel hungry in the slightest. But all he’d eaten all day were cookies, and he was certain that’s why he felt hollow and unsteady. A man needed a damn protein in his life.

“Did Revival lose power?” Monica asked, he supposed in an effort to make stilted conversation that wouldn’t begin to change the fact things had shifted. Somehow. Someway. And they were stuck in this godforsaken Christmastime hellhole of a cabin.

“Don’t know.”

“You haven’t talked to anyone?”

“Texted about being stuck. Just asked if everything was okay up there.”

“And?”

He maybe knew what she was getting at. He definitely ignored what she was getting at. “They said it was okay.”

“What did you tell them?” she asked, eyes glued to her sandwich making.

“About what?”

“About where you were…” She trailed off, blinking down at the bread. “About where you are. Surely they’re worried.”

“Does it matter?”

She frowned at him, making eye contact for the first time since everything had grown decidedly weird. It was almost comical to think he’d once thought her cool and blank. Oh, she could pull that off, but there was always this…glimpse of her true emotions if he only looked. It all swirled there in her eyes. Pain, hurt, confusion.

He refused to give in to that. He was his own man, and her emotions were her own business. Seeing hurt there didn’t cut him to ribbons—he simply wouldn’t let it. So he held her gaze, then gave her a very deliberate smile.