By the end, I honestly wasn't even sure who was on top. It was a hard, blinding, I-have-no-idea-where-I-am-and-I-don't-care climax. Probably more than one. Even when he stopped, I was still riding that wave, and once he realized that, he obliged, going until I collapsed--on him, apparently--exhausted, my whole body quivering. He turned me onto my side and kissed me, a long, sweet, gentle kiss. When it ended, he said, "Thank you."
"Oh, hell, no. Thank you," I said, and he chuckled, the sound vibrating between us. "That was...Wow." I lifted my head to look at him. "You want to know how to help me work off my angst? That'll do it."
He pulled me against him for another long kiss, our bodies entwined. I reached to touch his jaw, run my fingers over it, savoring the freedom to touch him. When I moved my arm, though, he caught my hand and frowned down at finger-shaped bruises rising on my forearm.
"I'm sor--"
I put my fingers to his lips. "I like the fact you've learned to apologize. But sometimes, you kinda overdo it."
"It wasn't so much an apology as an acknowledgment that I didn't realize I grabbed you hard enough to leave a mark. Which I suppose is an apology."
"Yep. It is. And if you apologize for that, then I have to apologize for this." I touched a scratch on his chest. "And this." A bruise on his bicep. "And I don't even want to see your back."
"It's fine." He rolled over and pulled me on top of him. "The acceptance of an apology would imply that one was required, which would imply that I would prefer no repeat of the circumstances that led to it. So I strongly reject any apology you might feel obliged to give."
"Ditto."
He relaxed and closed his eyes, and I touched his hair, still damp with sweat, and then tickled his neck, and he lay there, calm, eyes closed, lips curved as he enjoyed the attention.
Then my phone rang.
"It's too far for me to reach," I said. "Would you mind throwing that against the wall for me?"
He opened one eye. The phone continued to ring. Neither of us moved to get it, but when it stopped, I sighed and said, "I suppose we've had as much of a rest as we're going to get."
"It was a good rest. If not terribly restful."
I laughed. "Agreed."
Gabriel stretched under me. "I'm not intending to return Detective Fahy's call, but I do need to speak to Rose and Patrick, to see if Seanna has made contact. If you and Ricky want to handle Ioan, that might be a better division of efforts. I'll retrieve Pamela's file from the office and we can take that to Cainsville to discuss, in connection with your vision at the fun house."
"You have very kissable lips."
He laughed.
"Yes," I said. "You were talking. It was important. I shouldn't get distracted. But they're distracting. Have been for a while, which was very awkward. You'd be saying something important, and I'd be watching your lips and trying very hard not to think what it'd be like to stop you talking. For a minute. Or ten. So now I'm just going to randomly say that when the thought strikes."
He smiled and shook his head, in that way that said he suspected I was teasing him. "You do realize you're playing a dangerous game, stroking an ego that doesn't need the attention."
"Oh, I think it'll be fine." I slid my hands behind his head and leaned down to kiss him. His arms went around me and the kiss deepened, hands moving across bare skin, stroking, caressing, exploring.
"I'd better take it down a notch," I murmured between kisses. "I don't think you'll be up to...Oh, wait. Maybe? Mmm, yes. My mistake. Carry on."
PHONE ISSUES
When Gabriel's phone rang, he did not snarl at it. Did not need to fight the urge to hurl it into the wall. He simply opened one eye and waited for it to stop. When it did, he opened the other and looked down at Olivia, curled up in his arms.
He liked this. Liked it more than he would have imagined. The touching, the entwining, the closeness. The heat of her body, the smell of her skin, the soft whisper of her breathing, the pound of her heart. It made him feel...He wasn't sure what word fit best there. Secure? Comforted? Quieted? The choices all seemed odd, when applied to a lover. But he felt all that, curled up with her.
It was not dissimilar to the sense he used to get at the end of the day, when he closed the door and shut the world out and could just relax, be himself in his one safe spot. Something had been amiss, though, adding a restlessness and dissatisfaction that he'd never been able to pin down. Now he realized what it'd been. Loneliness. The sense that the only thing better than being alone would be to be with someone who made you feel as safe and comfortable as you did when you were alone.
He rose on his elbow to look down at Olivia. To savor the image of her in his bed. The realization of yet another fantasy he'd indulged in more times than he cared to recollect. It seemed an odd thing to fantasize about, compared to all the other, more active scenarios. But this was one of his, like seeing her wearing his shirt.
He'd had a taste of this particular fantasy already, letting her take his bed when she stayed the night. Again, he'd enjoyed that more than he ought to. There was a primitive quality to the fantasy, the idea that even if she'd been with Ricky, she'd been sleeping in his bed.
A little more proprietary than he should admit to. Not a sense of property, but a sense of place--that having Olivia in his bed said she held a spot in his life no one else could breach. She was important enough that he'd give up his most private sanctuary to her.
His phone started again. That did get a growl from him, less at the interruption than the reminder that it really was time to get up.