Gabriel (17 page)

Chapter Twenty

Leah crouched over the toilet in Gabriel’s bathroom, her stomach heaving. Pain seized
her chest as the sour odor of vomit permeated her nose. Still she clung to the porcelain
god as if worshipping at its feet. Or as if it were the only thing grounding her to
a world that had suddenly flipped and morphed into a strange, cruel, ruthless place.

A sob tore out of her throat, and the tears she’d been unable to check since hunching
over the bowl streamed down her hot cheeks. They scalded her face, but she couldn’t
stop. Exhausted, she plopped on the floor, her back thumping against the wall.

And she wept.

Wept for every boy her uncle—
No! Richard!
She refused to think of him as her uncle any longer—had defiled and hurt. Every boy
whose innocence had been ripped away by his perverted cruelty.

Tapes. Boxes of VHS tapes, labeled Keith, Charles, Brandon. And too many others.

Bile razed a path up her throat again, and she gagged, fighting it down with a willpower
she hadn’t known she possessed. The nausea slowly subsided, but the pain, fury, and
feeling of betrayal…those stayed like unwanted overnight guests.

The man she’d considered a father figure, the man she’d adored, the man who had loved
and pampered her like a favored daughter…had
raped
young boys. And recorded the assaults to keep as fucking trophies.

How could he?

Leah dug the heels of her palms against her eye sockets and pressed mercilessly. How
could Richard have used the same hands he’d pushed her on a playground swing with
against helpless, trusting boys? What kind of monster had she loved all these years?

She choked on her rage. How had Renee felt discovering one of those tapes had been
of her own son? How could she have managed not to kill the son of a bitch? Leah would
have; she would have gone after him like a mythical Fury, and damn the legal system.
She would have meted out her own brand of justice.

God, she almost wished she could rewind the hands of time and remove the images branded
into her brain. But to walk around believing Richard had been this paragon of virtue
when he was no more than an evil pedophile seemed worse. At last her eyes were wide
open; she refused to be blind again.

“Leah?”

She jerked her head up. A second later she lurched to her feet, the tile of the bathroom
wall cool against her hot palms. As she stumbled forward, Gabriel appeared in the
door, the light from the hallway illuminating his tall frame.

His gaze scanned the room and studied her ravaged face. Certain she looked a mess
after retching and crying for what seemed like hours, she ducked her head and flushed
the toilet. Then she stumbled to the sink, twisted the faucets, and allowed the rush
of water to pour over her hands and wrists. Bending over, she rinsed the bitter aftertaste
from her mouth. The bracing cold felt good but did nothing to alleviate the ache that
stabbed deeper than flesh to pierce the soul. Nothing could wash away the filth that
coated her spirit; she felt smothered, forever touched by the evil committed by a
man she’d loved and trusted.

The kind, compassionate touch on her shoulders was like a length of rope she grasped
and clung to with desperate hands. The strong chest and thighs pressed to her back
and legs lent her a strength she’d believed depleted by grief and rage. The familiar
sunshine scent anchored her, shoving back the despair.

She leaned her head backward against his shoulder, resting her cheek on his collarbone.
Comforting, dependable arms wrapped around her waist, cradling her close. She didn’t
speak. She just let him hold her and lend her his quiet strength. The warmth of his
arms and body melted the chill encasing her. His soothing presence promised protection;
she could lower her shields, and he would be there to beat back the dark.

This
had been why she’d come back to his home when she’d had no intention of returning
after last night. But as she’d driven away from Renee’s with the boxes in her trunk,
a terrible foreboding had taken up residence in her heart. Its dark, greasy stain
had spilled into her spirit. At the time, she hadn’t known the exact nature of the
evil stored in the containers, but instinct had her passing the Beacon Hill exit and
her father’s home, and driving toward Charlestown.

Toward Gabriel.

He’d always been her sanctuary and, in spite of the uneasiness and hurt between them,
she’d gravitated toward her safe place. Though he hadn’t been home when she’d used
the emergency key to let herself in, his scent had permeated the air, his coffee mug
had sat on the table, his T-shirt was draped over the back of the couch, and it had
been enough.

Now he was here, holding her, protecting her.

How long they stood with the water running, she didn’t know. When the tears came again,
she had no idea. She wasn’t aware of Gabriel ushering her from the bathroom to his
bedroom, or when he lowered onto the bed and drew her onto his lap. She clutched him
to her, and sobbed out her hurt into his neck. It swelled out of the obsidian, bottomless
well of her soul. The pain surged and overflowed in tears, and they scalded her eyes,
face, and heart.

Through the storm, he stroked her head and back, bore her up so she didn’t plummet
into the abyss clawing at her. When she eventually calmed, the rhythmic
thump
of his heart resounded in her ear. He didn’t say a word but continued to caress her
hair and plant tiny, soothing kisses to the crown of her head as he handed her a wad
of tissues.

She felt so empty…hollow. The tears had eased the pressure in her chest, but hadn’t
cleansed her mind of the images—the horrible images. A shiver quaked through her as
she wiped her face. She wanted them out, gone. Her head couldn’t contain them without
her losing her sanity.

“Gabe,” she rasped and swallowed against the soreness even the small word caused her
abused throat. A whimper escaped her as she twisted in his arms and brought her face
level with his. Desperation scraped her raw as she dug her fingers into his shoulders
and crushed a kiss to his lips and chin. “I need you,” she whispered, spattering quick
kisses across his mouth. “Please,” she begged.

“Leah,” he said, clasping her waist and bracing his arms as if preparing to push her
away.

But she shook her head, cutting him off. She threw her weight forward, not allowing
him to put any space between them. She didn’t want words. She wanted his heat, his
touch that could erase everything from her mind, the ecstasy Gabriel alone could demand
from her body.

A shudder shook him, and she felt the aftershocks of it against her body. He leaned
forward until their foreheads touched and their breaths mingled. Her chest rose and
fell in rapid succession as if she’d just run a marathon. Her name left his lips,
and the low whisper brushed her mouth. He enfolded her in a tight embrace, holding
her close, so close she wished it were possible to meld into him permanently so she
would never again know what it felt like not to have his hard muscular planes fit
against her.

“Gabriel, make love to me,” she pleaded against his cheek, her fingers clutching his
back, her fingernails pinching him through his shirt. “Make me forget.”

He stiffened beneath her for several long seconds. Then he jackknifed from the bed,
hoisting her in the air. As he pressed her back to the mattress, his mouth crashed
down over hers, his tongue plunged between her lips.

She yearned to taste him on her tongue, feel his touch on her skin. She needed it
like a dying man lost in a desert craved water. He held her steady for the ravishment
of her mouth, and she arched into him. He bore down on her, his chest a solid wall
against her breasts, the hard ridge of his cock a wicked, delicious pressure aligned
with her throbbing heat. A groan of hunger rose from his throat and vibrated into
her mouth. She swallowed it and demanded another, which he surrendered to her.

He grasped her head between his palms and angled her for a deeper penetration. His
hips surged forward and down, mimicking the possession of his mouth, his tongue. Fevered,
she thrust him off her and levered up from the bed. She fisted the hem of her sweater
and jerked it free of her body. His gaze flared bright with desire as he reached behind
her and quickly divested her of the thin, lacy bra beneath. Desperate to feel his
bare flesh next to hers, she attacked his shirt, not bothering with the buttons, but
tearing it upward and, with his assistance, ripped the material over his head. She
dragged him back down to her and their twin moans at the feel of skin on skin filled
the room like a symphony. The swell of her breasts pillowed against his chest, and
the hard points of her nipples jabbed his muscles.

His mouth ate at hers, and his palms skimmed up her rib cage and cupped her sensitive
breasts. She cried out and bucked in his hold as he grazed his thumbs across the tight
buds. And it wasn’t enough.

He tore his mouth free of hers and trailed a hot, damp path down her chin, neck, and
across her collarbone until he came to the tips that she yearned to have surrounded
by his tongue. He sucked one between his lips, drawing hard, and she jerked beneath
the lash of his tongue and the pinch of his fingers.

“Gabe,” she pleaded, threading her hands through his hair, twisting the strands and
tugging. He groaned and switched breasts, treating the other to the same treatment.
It was ecstasy, torture, both.

He abandoned her flesh and tussled with the button on her jeans without any hint of
finesse. Finally he freed the closure and tugged down the zipper. Hunger and a craving
for a deeper, hotter, wetter connection fueled her clumsy motions as she kicked free
of the denim. He dropped to the floor, removed her boots with the same haste, then
peeled the jeans and panties from her body, leaving her lying bare before him.

She didn’t try to hide from his avid gaze. Desire incinerated any hint of modesty,
need lifted her arms and beckoned him to return to her. He clutched and lifted her
hips, planting an open kiss to her stomach. She gripped his chocolate curls, catching
him close. He breathed her in—the scent of her skin, the musk of her sex, heated,
and wet for him.

It should have embarrassed her, the intimate press of his nose to her body. But she
reveled in it. She wanted him to know she was on fire—just for him. She wanted to
wrap her legs and arms around him, surround him, be filled and branded by him.

His hands were rough as he dragged her closer still, opened his mouth over the core
of her body. She cried out, her back arching hard and high, offering more of herself
to his erotic assault on her body and senses, like a pagan sacrifice. His tongue lapped
at her as if she were the finest delicacy he couldn’t get enough of. And when he thrust
inside her, she trembled on the edge of orgasm, so close the electrifying shimmer
of release gathered at the base of her spine.

“No,” she panted, shoving at his head and shoulders. “No, Gabe. I want to come with
you inside me.”

His moan hummed over the flesh of her inner thighs, but he obeyed her plea. Straightening,
he snatched his wallet from his pocket, snagged a condom, and shed his pants. She
reached for him, welcoming him as he covered her and thrust into her with one strong,
possessive stroke. Her hands dug into his lower back, and she shook beneath him.

“Shh, baby,” he soothed, and gripped her head between his palms, scattering kisses
over her lips, cheeks, and chin. “Easy.” He tried to slow down, to give her body time
to accept him, but she didn’t want easy or gentle. She longed—needed—to be taken.
She wanted to be pounded into orgasm and oblivion. They could do gentle later.

“Gabe,” she cried, her heels digging into the back of his thighs and grinding her
mound in a tight little circle against his pelvis. He grunted, and his hips gave a
short jerk forward. “Please,” she gasped and bucked hard. “Move.”

With a low rumble, he lifted off her, grasped her ass in his palms, and surged into
her. She writhed beneath him, a victim caught up in this tempestuous, passionate storm.
Sweat gleamed off his skin, making it shine like gold. His wild curls, even more unruly
from her clutching fingers, framed his beautiful face in a brown tangle. She wanted
to see him like this always. To have him bent over her, twisting and thrusting, bringing
her pleasure, demanding she give it to him. She spasmed around his cock as once more
orgasm loomed, propelling her to the edge. His grip on her tightened as he rode her
harder, faster, fiercer.

“Leah,” he groaned, falling over her, his palms slapping the bed on either side of
her head. His mouth crushed over hers, and he took a hard, brief kiss before pulling
back and repeating her name over and over. Need roughened his voice. The same need
originating from the depths of her equally starved soul. She looked into his blazing
eyes, almost as if peering into the blue heart of a flame. A cry choked her, and tears
stung her eyes as she closed them.

The orgasm struck without warning. It took her under, consumed her. And as she called
out Gabriel’s name and twisted and shuddered beneath him, she plummeted over the edge,
knowing love kept her tethered and safe.

…

Shadows extended over the floor and bed as dusk claimed another day. Gabriel stretched
over Leah and turned on the bedside lamp. Its soft glow helped alleviate the deepening
shades of gray. Intimacy wrapped them in its sheltering arms, and he welcomed the
respite before cruel reality intruded.

He settled back on the pillows, and she curled into his side like a drowsy kitten.
He smoothed a palm down her spine, and she nestled closer, resting her head in the
natural crook between his shoulder and neck. Her warm, slow breaths caressed the patch
of skin over his collarbone, and her delicate, fine-boned hand covered his heart.