Rock My Heart (Luminescent Juliet #4) (19 page)

He nods. “Sometimes it
was others, and sometimes it was my doing, enough that I’ve grown tough as
nails to the world, wearing a chip on my shoulder that like an ass I can’t
always break past. I’ve done things…gotten so angry…physically hurt people.”
Staring at our hands clasped together, he shakes his head. “I have no right to
judge you.” He wipes the wetness from my cheeks that I wasn’t aware
of
. “There was a time when I thought you were perfect, cold,
untouchable. And while I wish with every cell in my body that your sister was
still here, the person I believed you were isn’t someone who could ever want or
understand someone like me.” He presses both our hands to the center of my
chest. “But this person is.”
 

My lip quivers as emotion
engulfs me until I burst into loud, gulping, messy sobbing.

“Hey,” he says softly,
pulling me off the chair and into his arms. “I thought you wanted more too.”

My face is buried in
his chest, but I nod against his soft T-shirt. “I do,” I say into the cotton
before another sob escapes. Wrapping my arms around him, I add in a tiny voice,
“I just don’t deserve you.”

I feel him shake his
head as he shifts his arms around my body, then carries me across the room. He
settles on the couch and just holds me, his fingers a soft whisper in my hair.
“Not sure I’m worth deserving.”

“Oh, you so are.” And I
hold him back, for once not feeling alone.

Chapter 27

~April~

We sit holding each other for quite some time. Much later after my
sobbing stops and my breathing evens, I drag away from his chest to look at
him. His expression is gentle as he brushes a strand of hair from my face.

“You sure you want to
try this?” I ask referring to us, my voice raw and hoarse from crying.

“Well,” he says in a
dry tone. “The last couple weeks have been completely fucked up caught between
what I should do and what I want.” His gaze roams over my face, telling me
without words what he wants. “It’s like I’ve been leaning on the edge of a
knife, either waiting for it to cut me or
wanting
it to cut me to escape in the pain. And now, except for a tiny part of me that
wants to save you from me, knowing you want more, I feel relief.” His fingers
graze the side of my face. “And wonder.” His palm slides down my neck. “And
hope.” Fingers trace my collarbone.
“And that I’m the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth.”

He is such a beautiful
soul, a blend of sweet and tough and resilient. I trace his upper lip like that
night months ago. His skimming fingers pause. His eyes bore into mine,
obviously remembering that night too.

I let out a contented
sigh. “I’m the lucky one here.”

He starts to shake his
lovely face, but I push up, grasp his jaw in my hands, and catch those
beautiful lips with mine, kissing him softly. Hands holding my scalp, he kisses
me back. Again and again. His tenderness burns through all of my doubts.
Everything fades away, except his touch, his lips, and hands on me. When
gentle, warm kisses turn demanding, he sits back, his eyes concerned.

His thumbs rub strands
of my hair. “We don’t have to rush things. You’ve had an emotional night.” He
slides his hands to my waist and attempts to pull me back into his lap, but I
twist myself up until I’m straddling his lap and holding onto his shoulders.

“This isn’t about rushing.”
After weeks of confusion, I’m filled with an emotion that borders on euphoria
because I
can
be with him. “This is
about need. I need this. I need you.”

Tension creases his
forehead. Anxiety fills his lovely eyes and hardens the lines of his face.

I draw in a breath and
try to explain that wonderful feeling of intimacy that I remember with him. “It
not about the sex, though I want that too. It’s about being close to you. Not
knowing where I start and you end.”

The lines in his
forehead deepen until he lets out a, “Fuck,” puts a hand on the back of my head
and slams into me, his mouth a bruising force.

This intensity, this
desperation, this is what I want from him. His fierceness sends music into my
veins, the notes a fast, rhythmic crescendo that exposes
his
need for me, and drives
my
need to equal the wildness of his. Together, we’re a flying, building
tempo, our sensual energy changing to prestissimo—the fastest tempo—in an
instant.
 

In between hot
nips and rough bites
and gripping hands, I lose my sweater
and jeans, Gabe his T-shirt and belt. Within the storm of another kiss, I’m
blindly working on the button of his pants when he breaks our kiss, flips us
around, and kneels on the floor in front of me.

My underwear hit the
floor as I grasp his intent. “Um, I’m not
sur
—”

“
Shhh
.
I’ve wanted to taste you forever.” He lifts my legs on his shoulders and my
hands hit the bottom cushions of the couch.

Between his eyes
on me and his words, a wave of heat hits
me, but I’m still a
bit mortified. “Um—”

His hot, wet mouth
touches the center of me, and all words are lost. I nearly melt into the couch.
My hands find his shoulders and grip tight before I do dissolve in the
cushions. Mortification dies. With his hands cradling my butt and his tongue on
my hot skin, this is the second most intimate moment of my life. After I
practically bend off the couch, sing like an alley cat, and nearly tear Gabe’s
hair out, I slowly open my eyes to find him leaning on my thigh staring at me.

I’m mortified all over
again. And not just a bit.

He shakes his head,
brushing his scruff on my inner thigh. “Don’t look like that. You were
beautiful. That was beautiful.”

Mortification dies at
his words.

He stands and holds out
a hand for me. Dressed only in a bra, I let him take me by the hand around the
couch toward the bed. Along the way, he flicks off the lamp, leaving the light
above the kitchen sink to illuminate the apartment.

As he unclasps my bra,
I undo the button of his pants. I push his jeans and boxers down, and he kicks
them off. Curiosity mixed with a fierce lust has me reaching for him. Standing
motionless, he watches me with
slitted
eyes as I
learn the contours of his hard, hot skin. Too soon, he’s setting me on the
center of the bed, then rolling on a condom before he follows.

We lay on our sides for
a long moment staring at each other in the shadows.

He grips my shoulder.
“I’ve been thinking about this, all the time, nearly every second of the day,
since that night,” he says softly, his breath a whisper on my lips.

“Me too,” I admit, as
every cell in my body buzzes with anticipation.

“All that waiting has
me wanting to go slow, make it last.”

I nod, thinking I just
want it to start. As in now.

Gabe moves first,
sliding his palm from the side of my breast over my hip to my thigh, causing my
skin to buzz as much as my cells. He leans in and kisses me softly as he wraps
my leg around his hip. Then he shifts closer, sliding into me, hard and hot and
smooth.

A moan escapes me at
the marvelous feel of him.

His lips form another
smile against mine as he drives deeper. We’re soon breathing hard, our kiss a
press of open mouths as we move together. My calf grips his hip. My fingers
wrap around his biceps. My heel digs into his buttock. Closer! my body screams,
along with faster, but Gabe keeps it slow and meltingly torturous, his face a
rigid, sexy picture of holding back.

Sweaty, muscles
straining, and glued to him, I’m truly not sure where I end and he begins. And
he does make it last and last until the leisure tempo ends in a fury, our
interwoven bodies becoming a mass of shuddering, sweet trembles.

We lay glued together
for quite some time, allowing our breathing to calm. Later Gabe draws the
covers up and over us, pulling me to his chest.

“Someday, I want to
hear you play,” he says into my hair.

My full heart tightens.
“I wish I could but it’s gone.”

He shakes his head and
kisses my temple. “You’ll play again.”

His certain tone has me
sighing and softly saying, “Maybe.”

Even though I don’t believe
it.

Chapter 28

~April~

I wake to a sensual dream. Spooned against Gabe’s hot, hard body. His
mouth on my neck. His hand between my legs. Half asleep, I’m floating on a warm
cloud of lust, and I wiggle closer. When he enters me from behind, the cloud
soars amidst panting and straining. A bite on my shoulder sends me tumbling in
pleasure from the cloud back into Gabe’s bed.

A tinkling bell sounds
somewhere from the floor.

“What is that?” I ask,
coming down from the amazing wake up sex.

“My phone. Alarm,” he
says in a harsh puff of breath that whispers on my back.

“How long has it been
going off?”

I feel him shrug.

Worried for him, I try
to squirm out from under his warm body. “You’re going to be late for work.”

He draws me close,
still breathing hard. “Don’t care. This is where I want to be.”

“Gabe—”

He kisses my ear. “I’m
getting up but you sleep.”

“Huh?” I say groggily.

He scoots out of the
blankets. “I want to imagine you here in my bed while I’m at work and know it’s
not a fantasy.”

I giggle, then sigh
dreamily at the notion of him imagining me.

After another kiss,
this one on my shoulder where he bit me earlier, he rolls out of bed.

I lay in bed content to
fill his imagination while he works, listening to him getting ready. Shuffling
in drawers. Showering—that has my half-asleep imagination wandering. Opening
the fridge. His footsteps coming back to me and another kiss landing on my
forehead.

“Dinner? Tonight?”

“Yes, please,” I say,
smiling into the pillow.

I hear him chuckle
prior to the sound of the door opening and closing.

Bone tired, it doesn’t
take long for me to fall back to sleep and fulfill his fantasy.

***

When I wake again, the apartment is bright from the sun. I stretch with
a smile, thinking of the night before and the early morning. The slight
tightness of my body reminds me of Gabe. Wanting him, I roll onto the far
pillow, breathing in his scent. A warm happiness fills me at the familiar smell
until a nagging guilt hits me.

I shouldn’t be this
happy.
 
I don’t deserve it.

I flop back over and
stare at the ceiling as tears threaten to fall.

I don’t deserve them
either. And I definitely don’t deserve Gabe.

This is where I want to be.

My hands grip the edge
of the sheet.

Though
I
don’t deserve him or the happiness he
brings me, I don’t want to hurt him.

In all the confusion of
the last few months, I never anticipated this bone wrenching guilt, never
imagined this happiness.

Because I never thought
we would be together.

My head
and
my heart churn in a dark whirl.

I need to get out of
here. Get my head on straight. Perhaps ignore my heart, and the warm
feelings.
 

After flying out of
bed, I quickly find my clothes strewn all over the room. Dressed, I detangle my
hair with my fingers, then search for my shoes. I find one under the table and
spot the other under the couch. I’m slipping on a flat, when someone starts
banging at the door and turning the handle. Muffled shouts come from outside
next.

I quickly grab my
purse, as the wrenching grows louder. “Just a minute!” I yell, wondering who it
could be. Gabe, who forgot his key? Romeo, who somehow saw my car parked
outside?

The open door reveals
an older man wearing crumpled clothes. His face is red and angry
with
a purple vein raised along his temple under messy brown
hair.

His brows lower. “Who
the hell are you?” he asks in a mixture of a growl and sneer.

Totally baffled, I
merely blink at him.

“Jim!” Someone cries
from behind him, and I notice Sharon, trying to push in front of the man.
“That’s April. She’s one of Gabe’s friends.”

Wobbling into the
apartment—forcing me to step back—he pushes her back on the porch. His
bloodshot eyes roam over my disheveled appearance. “Ah yeah, more like a fuck
buddy.”

My mouth falls open as
a red-hot blush hits my cheeks.

Lips in a sneer, hands
fisted at his sides, and swaying a bit, Jim quickly inspects the one room
apartment, then marches over to the kitchen and whips open the cupboard above
the fridge.

“So sorry, April,”
Sharon says quickly as she comes in. She goes to Jim and tugs at his shirt
while he throws everything out of the cupboard, items crashing onto the floor.
“He said he didn’t take it. Just wait until he gets here!”

“Little fucker’s been a
liar since he was in diapers,” Jim mumbles.

Jim must be Gabe’s
father, I realize as he furiously tears out the contents of the next cupboard.
Cereal boxes, crackers, and jars thud to the tile.

Standing next to the
door, I’m frozen. Part of me wants to flee. The other part doesn’t want to
leave Sharon alone with Gabe’s irate father who I know is dangerous, and is
probably drunk—at ten in the morning.

“Stop it!” Sharon
yells. “You’re destroying his apartment!”

Jim turns around, his
eyes drilling fury at Sharon. “The damn gun didn’t just disappear.”

Gun?
Alarm bells go off in my head.

Plates begin falling
and smashing onto the floor.

Sharon keeps pulling at
his shirt and telling him to stop. My purse falls to floor as I wring my hands.
My mind is blank. I have no idea how to deal with this.

Suddenly, Allie comes
through the door. Her eyes widen on me before she turns to where the racket is
coming from. “What the heck is going on up here?”

Sharon glances over her
shoulder.

Allie looks to me.

I point to Jim. “Gabe’s
father. He just showed up. He thinks Gabe has his gun hidden here.”

Allie’s expression
turns alarmed as she faces Jim and Sharon. “You need to leave. Now.”

Jim opens another
cupboard and Sharon’s whining grows frantic.

“This isn’t your
property,” Allie says firmly. “You need to leave now.”

“Fuck you,” Jim says.

“All right then, I’m
calling the police,” Allie says, before rushing out.

“Jim!” Sharon wails.
“You heard her! We have to go!”

He keeps yanking items
out of the last cupboard. The floor in the kitchen is littered with destroyed
food and broken dishes.

Sharon starts
feverishly yanking on his shirt and arm. “Jim!”

He turns,
then
grabs her by the neck, yanking her on her tiptoes.

“Shut the fuck up.”

I finally quit the hand
wringing and race across the room. “Let her go!” I heave on his hand wrapped
around her neck.

Sharon wheezes.

“Let her go!” I scream,
frantically tugging on his arm, clawing at his skin.

When I scrape his arm,
his blood shot eyes spit fury at me, but he lets her go. She falls against the
counter. For a split second, I’m relieved, then a meaty hand covers my face and
violently shoves me back.

I’m falling. Arms
flailing. Some yells—an angry roar that fills the apartment. Leaning on the
counter several feet from me, Sharon’s face twists in distress. I’m about to
splat on the kitchen floor covered with spilled food and pieces of broken
china. Muscled arms catch me inches from landing on the broken shards. Strong
hands lift me and set me on a chair.

“You okay?” Gabe
hoarsely asks, leaning over me.

I can only nod.

After assessing me with
a long look, rage creates deep lines around his mouth and he flies across the
room, taking his father with him. He slams his father against the wall.
Twice.
 

Jim shakes his head,
dazed from his collisions with the wall.

“I told you! I told
you!” Gabe snarls as he draws his fist back. “You don’t hit women! Especially
her! Never her!” He hits his father hard and fast. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then more. In the face.

Blood drips from Jim’s
mouth.

“Gabe!” Sharon yells,
pushing herself from the counter.

I get up too. Though my
legs are wobbly, I grab Gabe’s arm as he pulls it back. “Stop! He’s not worth
it!”

Gabe’s arm tenses, but
he doesn’t release another punch. He just stands there, staring furiously at
his father, and breathing hard.

Jim starts sliding down
the wall.

Gabe’s fist contracts.

“Leave him alone!”
Sharon wails, rushing toward Jim.

I grip Gabe’s shoulder.
“You have to stop,” I say as loud and calm as possible. I lean closer to him,
trying to get him to hear past his rage. “I’m fine. Sharon’s fine. Just leave
him alone.”

Gabe steps back. He
stares at me, but I can tell that he isn’t seeing me past the rage in his eyes.
He weaves as if drunk too.

Appearing dazed, Jim
lays on the floor and Sharon kneels at his side. Sobbing, she whispers in a
voice full of despair, “I took the gun. I didn’t want you to do anything stupid
or get hurt. I took the gun.”

I wrap my arms around
Gabe, holding him tight and bury my head in his chest. “It’s okay. It’s okay,”
I repeat into his work shirt, waiting for him to hug me back. “I’m okay.
Sharon’s okay.”
 

But his arms never
rise. Instead, the door whips open and two policemen flood the room, followed
by Allie.

Obviously confused and
blinking in shock at the scene in the kitchen, Allie points to Jim lying on the
floor. “He’s the trespasser.”

Sharon’s still crying.

The police look from
Gabe, who has blood on his knuckles, to Jim, who is passed out cold on the
floor. One of them asks, “What is going on here?” While the other radios for an
ambulance.

Gabe steps from me and
raises his wrists. “I punched the shit out of him.”

The cop who radioed for
an ambulance goes to Jim. The second one studies Gabe, reaching for his
handcuffs.

“No. No. No,” I say,
moving in front Gabe. “His father choked the woman on the floor and shoved me
down by my face.”

Gabe steps in front of
me, holding out his wrists. “I’m already on probation for assault and battery.”

At that the policeman,
clinks the cuffs around Gabe.

“He was defending us!”
I say.

The policeman looks to
Gabe, whose face is granite. “We’ll figure this out, ma’am,” he says and takes
Gabe.

“Gabe,” I sob, but he
doesn’t look back as they go on the porch and down the stairs.

Allie comes and puts an
arm around my shoulders. “What happened, April?” she softly asks.

I cover my face and
shake my head. Since Gabe’s father came through the door, everything has been
surreal. But Gabe ignoring me…I drop my hands and whisper, “I don’t know.”