Gabriel's Fire

The image of the sensual, sleep-laden Naomi made him smile. And wish he’d been lying on the pillow next to her when she’d opened her eyes. Lucky pillow.

He reached for one of her fidgeting hands, grasping hold. Her eyes met his then faltered, lowered and grazed over his damaged skin. Her gaze burning nearly as deep as the wounds.

You arrogant, insufferable asshole; you scared me to death. If I hadn’t been so afraid that you were already dead, I’d have killed you myself.

Everybody has scars, and every scar has a story. Especially the ones you don’t see. Those go deeper. And cause more damage.

Everything about him screamed in warning, “Caution: dangerous terrain ahead.” A warning that both intrigued and provoked her proceed-at-your-own-risk nature.

I suppose knowing where you are is better than having you skulk around, popping out of dark alleys and doorways. It eliminates the possibility of shooting you by accident. If I know where you are, I can shoot you on purpose.

Soft skin warm against his nose, her pulse beating strong against his cheek, suddenly clear thinking and being the voice of reason were concepts as foreign as a different language.

There’s no point in fighting me on this. Wherever you go, one, or both of us will be with you. Period. Get used to it. Short of actually sleeping on your doorstep, I’m going to follow you everywhere. I’m going to be so close that if you turn your head for a breath I’ll be there to give you mouth-to-mouth. So, you may as well just give in and take me with you. It’ll save us both a lot of time and frustration.

Yeah. I’m an asshole. But I promise you, when the shit rolls downhill and you need someone with a shovel, I’m an asshole who can get the job done.

If I were seducing you, I’d have you spread out like fine cuisine, working my way through the menu. From appetizer… to dessert.

This isn’t a one-and-done thing for me. So, if you think you’re going to use me to scratch an itch, then you’d better think again.

Gabe suffers from survivor’s remorse. He won’t admit it because he doesn’t see it. Can’t recognize it in himself. He overcompensates for coming back alive, when so many didn’t. He’s got issues. You’ve got issues. Everyone has issues. But issues are a part of life. And whether we like it or not, even bad things happen for a reason.