Gabriel by Naima Simone

Author:Naima Simone [Simone, Naima]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Secrets and Sins#1
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Suspense)
Published: 2013-06-06T10:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Damn,” Gabriel muttered, thrusting his fingers through his hair, dragging the heavy strands away from his face as he stared after Leah’s disappearing taillights in the deepening dusk. His fist tightened at the back of his head and the slight sting to his scalp helped clear the dark storm of emotion wailing in his head like a screaming gale.

Pain had darkened her eyes seconds before they shuttered. But the brief glimpse was a new kind of torture. He’d inflicted the hurt, and the knowledge scraped his chest raw.

He hadn’t thought. He pivoted on his heel and stalked to his SUV. He’d acted on pure, primal instinct. Self-preservation demanded he not be alone with Leah.

He yanked the door open and lowered himself in the driver’s seat.

He’d slipped the night before—outside the cop bar, he’d slipped. He’d allowed her too close. He’d inhaled her scent, touched her. As a result, the tight plane of her abdomen was branded into his palm. The curve of her lovely back was imprinted on his cock. The whisper of her sigh was etched in his memory.

And he’d carried her into his dreams. In the darkest hours of night his conscience had released its tenacious grip on his mind and on a sea of white silk, he’d tangled his limbs around hers—arched over her, writhed against her, filled her.

He clenched his teeth and an ache bloomed and radiated along his jaw. Even now, he could feel the slick glide of skin over skin. A fist-sized knot tightened his gut as image after erotic image bombarded him.

He’d never been in the habit of lying to himself. And with residual heat simmering in his blood and his cock pounding behind his zipper, he couldn’t now. Even when he longed to.

He wanted Leah Bannon. Desperately.

Disgust and desire twirled in him like a demented ballerina on uppers. Part of him—the logical part—insisted he go home, put on a pot of coffee, write, and avoid sleep as if it had a Surgeon General warning label slapped on it. Yet another part—a darker, hungrier part—longed to go after her, press her to the nearest flat surface, push deep inside her, and lose himself in her wet, welcoming heat.

He curled his fingers around the steering wheel and squeezed. It mortified him—this craving capable of reducing him to no better than an animal. This was the same woman who’d selflessly offered him comfort after Maura’s and Ian’s deaths. He’d again cried his sorrow out in her arms two nights earlier. And Maura…dear God, Maura.

It wasn’t so much taking Leah that would number the act among the biggest mistakes he would ever have committed—it was knowing he would love it, crave it. And if he willingly cracked himself open to that kind of pain again, then the crazy squad would have to come fit him for an extra-long-sleeved white jacket and soft-soled shoes.

He started the car and jerked the gear shift into drive. Having Leah would only lead to eventually losing her. If he surrendered to this impossible desire, he would hate himself.

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