Hustle Page 8

  Gabe’s right behind me. “Sure.”

  He follows me down into the lower level of the house where Dad’s den used to be. Dad set up a bar on the side, even had a neon sign made reading ‘The Zoo’ across the top of it.

  I see Gabe take it in.

  “I know, all these ‘The’ bars lately. It’s weird. Whatever happened to old-fashioned bar names like Gaston’s or Gallow’s End?” I suggest. My mouths yapping away with whatever comes into my head. I’m a mess.

  “I don’t think those are real bars,” laughs Gabe, “but ‘Shannon’s’ has a nice ring to it.”

  I don’t even catch that, too busy looking across the labels of the bottles on the wall. “I’m not sure how old this stuff is, but would you like a drink?”

  That’s the way, Shan. Booze him up so he won’t be able to get it up.

  Somehow I doubt erectile dysfunction is going to be an issue…

  Easy now. You’re still on first base, remember?

  Gabe remains standing in the middle of the room. “I’m good, thanks.”

  Damn. I was hoping it would give my hands something to do other than flit and flap around like an inflatable man.

  I see Gabe pause by the small shelf next to the bar. He points to the framed picture of Dad. “Your father?”

  I come up beside him, thankful for the conversation starter. “He looked pretty good in a uniform, didn’t he?” I direct Gabe’s attention to the Medal of Honor on the next shelf down. “He was injured in combat, though he passed away years later.”

  Gabe takes it in. “Were you close?”

  I push that rock in my throat back down. “We were.”

  “It sounds like he was a great man.”

  “He was.”

  Gabe nods to the medal. “They don’t just hand these things out like candy, you know. Any man who has received one of these has my respect.”

  I smile. It’s natural. “He would have liked you.”

  “Because I’m a SEAL?”

  “Because you’re good to me.”

  Gabe laughs. “Am I? I’ve pulled you into a crazy lie.”

  “And I’m going along with it… willingly.”

  Gabe smiles back just as another squawk-fest starts upstairs. He looks up. “You raising some sort of hell-beast up there?”

  “It’s just the kids. They’re always hungry.”

  “Are we talking teenagers or animals here?”

  “Aren’t they the same thing?” I smirk.

  “I was a teenager once, you know.”

  “With a copy of Playboy under your bed?”

  He gives another laugh. “It was a copy of Soldier of Fortune, actually.”

  “Wow, so even back then you knew what you wanted to be?”

  Gabe looks back to the medal. “They make it seem glamorous, to pull you in.”

  “And it’s not?”

  “It has its moments, but expectation rarely lives up to reality.” He’s looking back to me as he says it. I’m not sure if there’s an implied message there, but I clear my throat and start to head to the stairs.

  “Want to meet the kids?”

  “So, we are getting serious.”

  I’m walking back up the stairs feeling like a child myself about to show the cool new kid across the road my room.

  Whoa there, sister. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

  And there it goes again. My brain’s become a dirty old man. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex—that’s all it thinks about these days.

  You know very well why, and here’s your chance. It’s right there behind you—all six foot of muscly, manly goodness. Sprinkle it with sugar and dig in.

  I roll my eyes at myself, leading Gabe into the sunroom down the back—more of a ‘night room’ now given the sun set hours ago.

  I switch on the light.

  Gabe takes a step back in surprise.

  “Don’t worry. They don’t bite.”

  “Do you?” he jokes.

  He stops by Aragog first. “Who’s this guy?”

  I’ve seen grown men practically dive out the window meeting Aragog for the first time, but Gabe doesn’t seem to mind.

  I move up beside Gabe, can smell him, feel the warmth of his body brushing against my side. “That’s Aragog.”

  “You’re a Harry Potter fan?”

  “Isn’t everyone?”

  He moves onto the lovebirds’ enclosure. “Wow, these two are living large. This thing’s bigger than my apartment.”

  “They enjoy the room.”

  “What species are they?”

  “Lovebirds,” I reply. “Pikachu and Ash.”

  He peers in at them. “Nice to meet you, feathered Pokémon people.”

  “They’re inseparable.”

  He looks at me, his sapphire eyes aglow. “I see.”

  There’s scratching at the door. I unlock it to let Tripod in.

  Gabe crouches down and scoops him up.

  I’m shocked. Did he just do that?

  Amazingly, Tripod goes to him easily, curling up in his arms. I’ve never seen Tripod do that before. Normally he’s terrified of people.

  “He likes you,” I note.

  Gabe examines him. “What happened to his leg?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. The vet thinks a car maybe. We don’t know for sure.”

  Gabe smiles at the furry creature he’s cradling. “Let’s just call it a war wound, hey, buddy?” He places him down gently on the floor.

  “Percy, my crested gecko, is outside,” I continue, but he gets real lazy come nightfall. He’ll be out there somewhere.”

  I turn and undo the latch on the gliders’ cage, scooping them out. “And these two little guys are Buffy and Angel.”

  “Vampires?”

  “Sugar gliders, but they do become monsters if you don’t feed them. I wasn’t joking when I said ‘kids.’ I almost think actual human children would be less work sometimes.”

  “And yet you clearly adore them.”

  I don’t know how much longer I can take this love-fest before I explode with joy—the man of my dreams with my family, everyone getting along. It’s nice having a man in the house.

  It’ll be nicer when he’s in your bed.

  “I do,” I smile, Buffy running up my arm to sit on my shoulder and peer at Gabe.

  That’s right. Give him a good looking over.

  Gabe comes over with his hand out. “May I?”

  I bring up Angel and, what do you know, he goes crawling up Gabe’s arm up to mirror Buffy’s position on his shoulder.

  Gabe lightly strokes the top of Angel’s head. “I thought sea otters were the height of animal kingdom cuteness, but these dudes…”

  Did he just call the gliders ‘dudes’? I’m cracking up inside, but I’m happy too. I think I was almost more nervous about Gabe meeting my animals than I was about meeting his mom.

  Angel swings around behind Gabe’s neck to his other shoulder.

  I take out my cell and take a snap. The expression on his face is priceless. “Sorry. Had to.”

  “I hope you got my best side.”

  “I don’t think there’s a wrong side,” I reply.

  You’re flirting, Ms. Bailey. No doubt about it.

  I blush hard.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Doctor Dolittle,” Gabe smiles.

  I’ll be Doctor Do-A-Lot if you like…

  Gabe helps me get the gliders back into their cage and settle everyone in for the night. It’s strange having someone else in here helping. I’m so used to doing it by myself, talking to myself like a crazed idiot. The way Gabe’s acting… It’s almost like this could be a thing—we could be a thing.

  Define ‘thing.’

  That’s the hard part.

  I continue the tour, sounding even more like an idiot as I walk us through the house. “Bathroom,” I note. “Kitchen, and…” I stop outside the doorway to my room.

  “Your room,” he finishes.

  “I’d hardly ca
ll it mine given how often I share my bed.”

  I see surprise light up Gabe’s face.

  “Oh,” I stammer, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m talking about my animals.”

  His eyebrows lift. He looks even more confused.

  “The sugar gliders… sometimes…” and once again the ability to speak is lost to me.

  Gabe places his arm up on the wall, leaning into it, his aquamarine eyes looking deep into my own. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I think it’s all pretty damn adorable.”

  “You do?”

  He tilts his head sideways. “Well, aren’t you going to show me your room?”

  My mouth is so damn dry—the same of which cannot be said of the space between my legs. “Um, sure.”

  I step in and switch on the light. “It’s not much.”

  He walks past the dresser before taking a seat on the end of my bed. I note the random underwear strewn around the floor and almost melt into a puddle of horror, trying to start conversation as I whisk around and sweep up the offending items. I speak without a filter, babbling away to distract him. “I don’t really know why I invited you in.”

  “You don’t?” he smirks.

  “I guess I just wanted you to, you know, know me… since we’re,” Oh, God, “doing this thing.”

  I reach for a wayward sock and stand up straight, flustered.

  He stands and flattens out the quilt, taking a step towards me. “It’s great, and I do want to know you. You’re my fiancée, after all.”

  “Your fake fiancée.”

  “I’m not so sure any more.”

  He’s standing so close I can make out the individual hairs in his stubble, the shadowy sweep of it leading up into a defined jawline, his inky hair perfectly messy.

  We start to move towards each other, leaning in.

  It’s happening again.

  Just before we kiss, I ask, “What about Triss?”

  He pulls back like I’ve jammed a cattle prod into his gut. He looks out the window and exhales. “That’s a long story.”

  What the hell are you doing, Shan?!

  Gabe places his hands on his hips and turns his attention back towards me. He waits, seems to be fighting with himself over something.

  He nods in a sort of quasi-affirmation. “Okay. You deserve to hear it.”

  He takes a seat on the end of the bed. I sit beside him.

  “She was a Ranger,” he begins, “the first female Ranger, actually.”

  “I didn’t think women could be Rangers?”

  “They opened it up to both sexes a few years back, but Triss was the first through, practically wiped the floor with the other guys in basic training. There are a couple of other women in the program now, but Triss was special, you know. She always gave it two-hundred percent.”

  “Was?”

  I see his Adam’s apple pushing at his throat. “She died.”

  “On a mission?” I’m trying not to sound nosy, but I want to know, to hear him say it. I want to know everything about this man.

  He looks down and up again. “My mission.”

  I can’t stop the questions. “But you’re a Navy SEAL.”

  “We often work with the Rangers on missions, especially in the Middle East.”

  I know he’s struggling to tell me whatever comes next, but I remain quiet, wait.

  “We were on an op in Iraq, before Mosul—tracking these real scumbags. We were holed up in this alley, knew a high-value target was down the other end. Comms were down, smoke and shit everywhere. I was ready to go, intel or not, but a bad feeling came over me right before I gave the order. Triss, though… She was insistent. She wanted to get down there and finish it, scout it out. She was like that—completely fearless. She wasn’t always smart, but fearless all the same.”

  He swallows again, his eyes and thoughts somewhere else, hands together. “I should have held her back, I had rank, but instead I let her go. We were together, thought we were invincible. It’s hard to explain.”

  He straightens up. “Anyhow, she was almost at the end of the alley when a kid came walking out, this young girl. She couldn’t have been more than seven. She was strapped up like the Fourth of fucking July. I lined her up, the kid, but I hesitated, and that split second of hesitation cost Triss her life. The explosion damn near brought every building in a half-mile radius down. Every asshole with an AK crawled out. It was a nightmare. I wanted to go in for Triss, but we were taking heavy fire—squirters front and back, a .50 cal—so I gave the order. I left what was left of her there and did my best to get my men out, but it still wasn’t good enough. Two others lost their lives that day.”

  He closes his eyes before opening them again.

  I place my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Gabe.”

  “We weren’t good for each other,” he says. “We were too alike, but we had something, you know? If I’m honest, it still hurts. It really fucking hurts.”

  Before I know it, I’m reaching for his cheek, my lips moving forward until they’re falling on his own. I let him escape into me, pull him into the present.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  GABE

  On impulse, I take Shannon’s arm and draw her to me. Her breath is short, coming in quick pants.

  My hardness is against her, the heat of it pressing against her crotch.

  Her lips part, but she doesn’t say a word as I trail a finger down her cleavage. She inhales sharply, her chest rising and falling against me.

  It’s been a while since I was in a moment like this. With the frog hogs, the women who sleep with SEALs, I would have torn her blouse clean off, but now I bring my hands down to the hem and slowly lift it over her head, her eyes never leaving my own.

  I haven’t forgotten everything, though. I place my thumb against her lower lip and let it fall off, tracing up the side of her neck with it and following this with the tip of my tongue until it flickers at her ear lobe.

  She gasps again, twitching on the spot. “Do you want me?” I ask.

  “Yes,” comes her breathy answer, a breeze through treetops.

  I kneel and dig my fingers into the waistband of her jeans, pulling them down her thighs and legs, taking off her shoes like she’s some sort of reverse Cinderella. I hook her jeans away, tossing them into corner. I can smell her arousal, the hot, musky pull of her pussy hidden away by nothing more than a thin layer of lace.

  I slide my hands around her ass and cup her cheeks from behind, surprised at the low cut of her panties. She moans when my fingers dig into her skin, whispering my name.

  I nuzzle myself lightly against the mound of her sex. “I’m going to lick your pussy now and you’re going to come.”

  “Is that an order?”

  I look up to her. “You’re damn fucking right it is.”

  I stand and pick her up under the knees, tossing her into the middle of the bed, climbing on after her, stripping away my shirt in the process.

  Her breath catches again when I spread her legs and pull the crotch of her panties to the side, running my thumb into her wet little pocket.

  And it is wet—slick and tight and ready for my cock.

  Her head’s on the pillow, her eyelids half-shuttered. Beneath them I see her eyes rolling into the back of her head as I work.

  My god, I’ve never wanted anything so bad. I run a finger down the crease of her slit, let it dip inside. She’s gasping again, open-mouthed.

  Her head lifts, her eyes widening as they take in the cut planes of my chest. I step off the bed and take my time removing my pants, allow her to appreciate what she’s really getting herself into here.

  When I take off my jeans and underwear, her eyes fixate on my cock—all ten, throbbing inches of it.

  I stroke it.

  “My God,” she says. “That… is big.”

  I pull on my cock as I speak. “It’s not going to be a problem given how wet you are. Trust me.”

  Her legs spread wider. “I do.”

 
I take hold of her ankles, pulling her across the quilt. Ankles in one hand, I lift her up, stripping away her panties with the other, the lace tearing around her hip. I drop the damp ball of fabric beside her sweet, snow-white ass, the ass I’ve been dreaming about for days and nights now.

  I want more than anything to bury my cock inside her, but I remember my duty and drop to my knees, hands slipping under her ass as I pull her pussy against my mouth.

  “Gabe,” she gasps, but I don’t know if it’s a protest or an exclamation given the broken way it comes from her mouth.

  I don’t fucking care. I use my lips and tongue to sweep over every perfect inch of her pussy—spearing inside her, lashing her clit, working until her thighs are clamping hard against my ears, dulling away the world.

  “Gabe,” she repeats, a twisted moan now.

  Hearing my name coming from her mouth forces my cock to jerk against the bedframe.

  She tastes so fucking good.

  I go into overdrive, licking from the bottom to pinched top of her pussy in a single stroke, my fingers moving up to separate her lips, explore her wet interior. I plunge my tongue into the heat and slickness there, savoring the flavor of her, the sweet, sweet arousal coming from her heated walls.

  A whisper. “Gabe. Gabe,” she repeats, louder, breathing it out, her chest heaving.

  It’s driving me fucking insane.

  I draw her clit into my mouth and suck lightly.

  “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

  I’ve got no intention to.

  Her body folds in on itself, her fingers gripping my head hard, combing through my hair as she presses me against her.

  Her legs are clamping against me so hard I can hardly hear, completely consumed by her sex. Her thighs quiver, shake, her ankles slipping and sliding against the quilt.

  “I’m going to—” she gasps, the pitch of her voice rising high. “I’m going to—”

  A single swipe of her clit is all it takes.

  She groans low and deep before crying out in full, coming hard against my face, her desire fresh on my lips.

  Her first orgasm and it’s all mine.

  But I want more.

  And I want it now.

  I fish for my jeans on the floor, finding my wallet and taking a condom out, sheathing myself.

  I climb onto the bed, crouching between her legs, my cock so hard it may as well be a fucking flagpole.