No Gentle Giant (A Small Town Romance)

Slowly, my ears work again, and those soft man-whispers resolve into words, steady and certain, rumbling low.

“We can still make this right,” Alaska says. “You can turn the gold in to the Feds. With Flynn’s testimony, the gold, and those fingerprints, plus me standing by, you might be able to open a case and get the law involved. Find real justice for your dad, so these people who killed him can never hurt you. So you can finally have a life.”

There’s a fierceness in his voice that says he’d hunt Paisley down himself if he could.

I pull back just enough to look up at him through my teary-eyed blur, confusion mixing into the muddle of raw emotion lashing around inside me.

“I don’t...understand,” I whisper. “Why are you even worrying about this? I’m not your problem. You’ve got a life of your own. You’ve got Eli, and...and he’s your everything. I’m just a huge complication. I can only make things worse.”

I try to talk sense. I try to reason.

I try to push him away, to save him before he suffers for me.

Then, in a few growled words, he breaks my heart all over.

“Yeah? Funny as hell I don’t see it when I look at you, woman. You haven’t done shit but make my life brighter since the day I met you.” Every word rings with bold sincerity, like he’s saying a prayer and blessing me with his gaze. “Felicity, fuck. I wish you could see yourself like I do. And if you’re complicated? You’re the kind of complicated I need in my life. Let me give you fair warning: no amount of crying, screaming, clawing, or begging’s gonna change my mind.”

Every part of me says that can’t be true.

Not when my complications could get people killed.

But I can’t call him a liar, not when I’m huddled in his arms, looking up at him like I can’t see anything else. The living room light forms a halo behind him, casting his face into shadow, but his eyes are unmistakable.

They’re locked on mine.

Dark with such intense emotion I don’t dare to want, to have, to keep it for myself.

But I never said I could resist, did I?

Especially when he pulls on me, offering the scratch to an itch I never knew I had, a need I could never put into words.

To feel safe.

To feel safe with a man, to trust him, to put myself in his hands and know he’ll do everything in his power not to obliterate me.

I’m trembling the instant he touches my cheek and I can’t stop.

Yes, I know what’s coming, but I’m still denying it’s even possible when he leans down toward me.

His breaths ask a silent question, caressing against my skin, painting what he wants on my lips, asking me to take him in.

Parting my lips, inhaling his air, it feels like I’m already tasting him, acquiescing...

...and there’s not even a moment’s hesitation when his lips descend on mine.

I full-on detonate.

I’ve never, ever been kissed like this.

Like I’m a tender thing, a sweetness, something to be cherished and loved and savored like a delicacy.

Like I’m worthy of warmth, desire, and this rushing inferno infusing every pore.

It’s a shot to my heart, a shivering firestorm, as Alaska’s mouth caresses mine in a slow soul-searching kiss.

This wandering smooch that feels like seeing a shooting star for the first time. Like discovering the exhilaration of something profound, and something no one else will ever experience.

Every first kiss pales before it.

God, this is the first kiss—the real one—so powerful no other kiss ever mattered.

His tongue mingles with mine, hot and focused.

When he tastes me, I whimper, and he gives back a molten groan.

His lips make me believe for the tiniest second I’m someone else.

Not my father’s daughter.

Never touched. Never tainted.

Never tasted by anyone but him, and my heart turns electric, stalls, and sighs with pure bliss.

Why did I even try to deny it for so long? To fight this tooth and nail?

I’m head over heels for Alaska Charter.

For this selfless soldier, this amazing father, this stalwart protector who looks at me and doesn’t see the stains of my past.

He just sees the person I am now, everything I fight for, everything I work for, everything that matters in my deepest, darkest dreams.

Yes, he’s rapidly becoming one of those dreams.

And sweet baby Jesus, I want to kiss him forever.

Digging furrows in his shirt with my nails, I clutch at him, leaning in, almost panting against his lips.

Maybe I’m too eager—too needy—but the delicious pressure of his lips feels firm and fiery and thrilling.

My entire body awakens, aware of his bulk, his wild-mint and musk, the way his beard scratches my cheeks with just enough roughness to make the tender, gentle flick of his tongue against my lips that much more sinful.

It feels like we cling to each other for hours, his enormous hands sliding down my back, gripping my waist like he’s shaping me with his touch.