Gabriel David's White Horse (7 page)

She waved her hands and shook her head to clear out the nostalgic thoughts. Inside, she turned on lamps and walked to the kitchen to turn on the kettle. While she waited for the water to boil she spied the laundry basket atop the table. Inside was clean and folded laundry. Their laundry.

“You washed clothes?”

He placed her bags in the entryway closet and walked toward her. He leaned his hip against the counter. They were inches apart. “I didn’t have enough to make a load so I sought out a few more pieces. Don’t worry, I know how to sort colors, whites”—he cleared his throat—“delicates.”

She felt her face heat knowing he’d washed her thongs and negligées. “Thank you. That’s very…domestic.”

He smiled, “I know how to take care of things around the house.”

“Your mother did a good job raising you then.”

“My mother died when I was twelve.”

He looked off into the distance. His face was blank—as if he didn’t know what emotion to portray. “I’m sorry, Gabriel.”

His eyes met hers and he pressed his lips together. “It’s okay.”

“After that you were raised by your father?”

“No. He was arrested and convicted of manslaughter in my mother’s death.”

He laid down the lines so frank and without emotion that it took her breath away. She tried to stifle a gasp, but was unsuccessful. “I’m sorry.” That was all she knew to say.

“Why are you sorry? It’s been years and you didn’t do anything.” Now his emotions were turned on full blast and she didn’t care for what registered. He seemed agitated and his jaw clamped shut and twitched.

The kettle had been whistling for twenty seconds, but her limbs were frozen. He abruptly jerked the kettle from the burner, slamming it down on a trivet she had on the counter. He turned off the cooktop and walked the few paces the living room. He began to pace the small square footage. “I’ve never spoken about it before. Not even to my brothers. I didn’t intend to worry you with the blackness of it all but my words got ahead of my thoughts.” He stroked his beard. “I should apologize to you. I don’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s okay.” She pulled two black mugs from the caddy on the island. “Peppermint tea okay for you?”

“Sounds great.”

She removed the teabags from the box. “Why don’t you tell me what you were doing in the field that day?” Anything to get his mind off of his parents.

“It was the first time I’d been back home since their deaths.”

Her hand froze mid-pour.

“My mom and I had seen that same horse. We used to go out on picnics just to wait for him to run by.”

It all made sense now. She’d wondered why he was so set on recreating the white horse scene. The scene marked a pivotal moment in his life. “So you moved back home?” She finished pouring the water into the mugs.

“Not exactly.” He’d moved to one of the barstools at the kitchen island. “I couldn’t stay at the house so I stayed with my uncle.”

She nodded her understanding. “And have you been home since that day in the field?”

“I went to Ashton’s wedding. And I went back again for Cam’s reception.”

“I thought Cara told me those things were held at your uncle’s house.”

“If you’re asking me if I’ve been back inside the plantation home I’d grown up in, the answer is no.”

“Why not?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m scared.”

“Scared?”

“Yeah, I’m scared shitless.”

“Why?”

“That place drove Ashton into an asylum. He said our father haunted the place.” Gabe shuddered.

Cara had mentioned something about that to her, but she hadn’t remembered Ashton was Gabe’s brother until just now. “What happened to you and your brothers after your mom died and your father…”

“He eventually hung himself in prison.”

Her hand instinctively went to cover her mouth, but she quickly forced it back down.

“Ashton lived at the plantation and he wasn’t doing well. The state wouldn’t let us be around him so my aunt in Georgia seemed like a good idea at the time. She took on the four of us: Me, Zach, Max, and Cam. But eventually they sent Zach to a boarding school. He’d started lighting shit on fire and he screwed my aunt’s new husband’s daughter.”

Oh, God
. She leaned forward and placed her elbows on the counter. He was young to have experienced so much pain and anger.

“He was fifteen, so thankfully he didn’t get into trouble with the law. I think the girl was fourteen. It was consensual, but obviously not a desirable situation.”

She nodded and sipped from the teacup.

“Not long after that Max left to go after Zach. As you can imagine, my aunt was not happy with any of us. The tension was ripe and I felt completely unwanted and alone, so I left. “

“God, how old were you?”

“About to turn seventeen.”

“A minor?”

“It wasn’t so bad. I rented an apartment in New Orleans.”

“Oh, my God. How did you get money to eat and live?”

“We uh…my family has money. I managed. But I ended up doing odd jobs just to pass the time and keep my mind occupied. I eventually became Wes Anderley’s personal assistant.

“Hey, I’ve got one of his prints.”

“In your bedroom.”

“That’s the one.” She sipped from the mug. “Zach seems okay now, huh?”

“Zach was so young when our parents died. I don’t think he’s ever come to terms with what happened.”

“I guess you two never talked it out.”

He chuckled. “No. We’re not close like that. The only thing he wants to talk about is sex or comedy.”

“Comedy?”

“He thinks he’s a comedian.”

“What does he do?”

“He runs a production company. He makes adult films.”

She wiped the counter down while she processed his last statement. “Wait, you mean like porn?”

“Yeah, he makes the videos, uploads them to his website, and then members can watch. You have to pay a monthly fee to be a member. He’s got over two hundred thousand members.”

“So he’s really successful.”

“He is. I think he must have funneled all of his anger and hurt into that endeavor.”

“Is that what you did with your painting?” He frowned, and then tipped his mug up to finish off his tea.

After placing his mug in the new dishwasher he’d installed for her, he came up to her. His wrists closed around hers and he pulled her into his chest. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“Best way to get to know me is in bed.”

“I agree.”

“Good.”

She squealed when he swept her off her feet and into his arms. Carrying her to the bedroom she thought she’d go into this with her head, not her heart, and hopefully escape with all of her sanity when it was over.
Take that, Cara!

* * *

Gabriel carried Mirabelle in his arms, her weight a welcome comfort against his bones. Seven days had passed and not one of them without sexual chemistry. They’d ignored it for as long as they could, but tonight he’d sensed her need. Her lighthearted giggles of appreciation whenever he did the smallest of tasks made the gorge she’d carved in his heart fill a little more with her spirit.

He laid her on the bed in her bedroom and then turned on the bedside lamp. Her eyes followed him as he removed his shirt and shoes. He unbuttoned his jeans, “Get undressed.”

She shook her head where it laid on the pillow. God, not again. His libido had suffered from her indecision.

She pointed her index finger at him, “I want you to take them off.”

He froze at his task of removing his jeans. Leaving them on he climbed over her on the bed and straddled her body. He’d been dying to lay her bare and reveal the lines she’d make.

She pushed up from the bed so that he could remove her T-shirt. A pretty silky coral-colored bra was the perfect contrast to her light olive complexion. He spotted the clasp between her breasts and then his fingers magically worked it loose. The bra fell away to slide down her arms leaving him face to face with the most perfect set of breasts he’d ever seen. Their natural swell and puffy tips had him biting the inside of his lip to keep from devouring her. She leaned her back against the headboard. His hands wanted to be filled with her and he placed his palms over each globe. Her skin was soft like Egyptian, high-thread-count cotton. His thumbs feathered over her nipples, and then she reached for him. Her fingers tightened in his hair and tugged hard as she gasped.

Her fingers slid down to the planes of his chest and explored the muscles there. Suddenly she pinched his nipples hard between her fingers. When he gasped she bit her lip, but he could tell she was smiling. Damn, he was in love. He leaned in and sucked her lips, jumping when she bit into the flesh.

“You bit me.” He touched his finger to his bruised lip. He could feel it swelling, and yet she just kept her intense stare on him. Her normally light eyes churned with the danger of a rough, deep sea. She was trying to express a need and he wanted to accommodate her more than he wanted his next breath.

He reached for the buttons on her jeans and unhooked them slowly, one by one. “You shouldn’t provoke a man. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

She didn’t speak, but lowered her chin to her chest while shaking her head. She inserted the tip of her index finger into her mouth and sucked. It was a move so erotically innocent it had him creaming in his shorts.

Slowly he slid the denim down her hips and legs until he had them off. She wore silky coral panties that matched the bra that now graced her bedroom floor. Her hips swelled and her legs were long and shapely. Her body was classic, like the Italian movie stars from long ago that his uncle liked to watch.

He slid her down so that her back was on the bed and her head on a pillow. “My lip is swollen.” He flipped her to her stomach and was delighted that she’d worn a thong. “There’s a penalty for your insubordination.” He cupped one thick globe in each hand. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing but he didn’t want her to know that. Ten? Too many. Four? Not enough. “Six. Count them.”

He continued to squeeze and massage, lifting one hand and bringing it back down. She yelped and rasped out, “One.”

Immediately her skin pinked and became heated beneath his palm. He rubbed in the sting at the same time he lifted his opposing hand and brought it back down. She writhed, “Two.” The blooming color on her skin fiercely turned him on and added fuel to the slaps.

God she was responsive to him. While he massaged her she moved her hips to the tune of his hands. He lifted and slapped each cheek again. She counted them out with a low, lustful moan.

The final two slaps were harder than the previous slaps. Their sting made a satisfying sound that reverberated around the room and straight to his cock. He rubbed in the last two blows and then turned her onto her back while he still straddled her. She wouldn’t look him in the eye and her playfulness was gone. Shit, maybe he’d misread her signals. His palm cupped her jaw. “Mirabelle, talk to me.”

She looked him in the eye and her hand covered his on her jaw.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just…I really need you.”

“You need me?”

She used her hips to thrust her sex against his denim-clad groin. “Please.”

He could smell her arousal. Her plea was almost dire. He stood and finished the task of removing his jeans. He slid his shorts down with the denim. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of his full erection.

Her bed was several feet off the ground—higher than what he thought was average. “I like this bed,” he said as he pulled her by her feet to the end of it. He set her heels on the wide expanse of wood that made up the bed’s frame and slid her panties off. He spread her legs and then his feet so that he’d be at just the right angle to exact the most pleasure. He leaned forward, sliding his hands beneath her ass and pulled her snug against him. His cock rubbed against her slick sex. He was about to bring them both sweet release when he realized he didn’t have a condom. “Shit, do I need contraception?”

God, he was on the edge of sanity. The tip of his cock was primed and ready to enter her sweet cunt.

“No, I need you.” She pressed her feet against the bedframe and lifted her bottom from the bed, offering her swollen sex to him. “Please.”

He grasped her hips and she spread her legs wide as he slid into her tight heat. Inch by inch he filled her until the root of him was against her smooth flesh. She adjusted to him and wrapped each leg around his hips, linking them behind his back. He didn’t know what she was doing, but her cunt squeezed around his length so tight his vision blurred. He couldn’t move. The sensation was so pleasurable his body shuddered and his temperature elevated to the point that beads of sweat dotted his chest and neck.

Her fingertips went into her mouth and she sucked and moaned around them while she used her hips and thighs to ride him. He’d never experienced so much pleasure from remaining so still, but if she didn’t stop what she was doing to him he’d lose his load.

“Mirabelle,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

She wasn’t letting him go, so he leaned over her and pulled her fingers from her mouth to kiss her. Instead of biting they aggressively explored one another.

She was strong and he still found himself unable to move. “Mirabelle, you’ve got me on lockdown. I can’t move.”

Her heat-filled eyes opened, piercing him with their intensity. “Sorry.” She immediately dropped her legs from his waist.

With his hands on her thighs, he pulled her legs back into place. “Keep them around my waist.” He stood and took her with him.

“Set me on the edge of the bed.”

He complied, placing her at the foot of the bed where she’d been earlier, but now she leaned back on her hands and rested her feet on the wooden frame of the bed.

“Show me what you’ve got, Gabriel David.”

Her low, lustful voice unmanned him. Taking position between her legs he fisted his cock and plunged into her depths. Her head jerked back on its neck and she let out a scream. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever met. He liked that she didn’t try to hide her enjoyment, but instead she demanded it.