Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge Book 1)(15)

Gentry's nostrils flared slightly, and the expression on his face turned  serious. He settled her on her feet and backed off. He wouldn't look  her in the eyes anymore. "Come on, Trouble. We have to travel to get  where we're going."

Blaire was still unstable, swaying slightly, and all her brain cells  were currently focused on the churning sensation low in her belly.  "Wait, what? I thought we were fixing up the cabins."

"We are and we aren't. I'll explain on the way." He plucked her thick  winter jacket off the coatrack by the door and held it out for her,  waiting.

It was hard keeping up with his mood swings, but she accepted his help  with her coat and then pulled on her gloves. Now she was good and ready  for the short trip to the truck.

He led her out the door and down the stairs.

"Geez, overprotective," she teased light-heartedly to lift the tension between them. "We're just going to the truck."

"False, we're hiking."

"Hiking?" Blaire blurted, her breath frozen in front of her face. "It's freezing out here."

Gentry didn't say anything as he led her to a wide trail through the  woods. There were tire tracks, so why the heck were they walking at nine  o'clock at night? "Um, a wolf lives out here," she reminded him,  looking back longingly at the safety of the cabin. She'd left the main  light on, and the soft glow was beckoning her back.

"You're safe with me," Gentry said without turning around.

He was hard to keep up with, though, and even with the traction of her  snow boots, she was slipping on the layer of ice beneath the snow, but  Gentry didn't seem inclined to wait for her. Whatever  survival-of-the-fittest nonsense he was pulling, she wasn't playing.

Bending down, she scooped up a big handful of snow, packed it tight, and  chucked it at him. When the snowball exploded against the back of his  jacket, Gentry froze like a gargoyle.

He turned slowly, his eyes narrowed to little, green slits.

"I used to play softball. I was pretty good," she bragged with a curtsy.

When Gentry stalked closer to her, bending smoothly to pick up snow, the  cocky grin fell from her lips. "No, I was just playing. I just wanted  attention!"

"You got it. You have all of my attention, Trouble. Why are you running?"

With a squeal, she high-kneed it off the trail and headed for the cover  of the trees. A snowball hit her in the side, and she burst out laughing  and made one of her own. He was jogging parallel to her through the  trees. He looked like he belonged in these woods, while she was tripping  on hidden tree roots every three steps or so. The forest echoed with  their laughter as they chucked snow at each other and ducked behind  trees. Gentry was fast, almost unnaturally so. One second he was twenty  yards away, and the next he appeared from behind the towering maple tree  she was about to hide behind as if he'd been there all along. With a  remorseless grin, he plopped snow on top of her hair.                       
       
           



       

She gasped at the frigid sensation that trembled down her spine. "Gentry!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

"Mmmm," he said, more of a rumble than a word. "I like when you say my name like that.

"Like what? Angrily?" she screeched, scooping more snow.

He stood there in the moonlight, legs splayed, dick huge and pressed  against his jeans, with the most confident smile she'd ever seen on  anyone. "Apparently, I find anger sexy."

"That's not how it's supposed to work, Gentry!"

When she pelted him with a snow ball, he flinched but didn't flee. He was laughing instead.

The snowball fight clearly over, she tossed him a fiery glare, which she  was trying to hold because his smiles made her want to smile for some  irritating reason.

"You still mad?" he asked from right behind her where he pressed his  body against her back. His hand was in her snow-speckled hair, angling  her neck to the side to give him access to suck her hard there, and  ooooh, that felt so freaking good.

"Do you forgive me?" he murmured against her sensitive skin.

She'd never wanted a hickey in her life, but suddenly, she wanted one from Gentry more than anything in the world.

"No," she said on a breath.

Gentry turned her in his arms and walked her backward, slowly, gripping  the back of her neck with one hand and resting his other securely on her  hip.

When her back hit a tree, Gentry turned her face and kissed her right  behind her ear, right where she'd gotten a little heart tattoo at age  eighteen when she had one of her only moments of rebellion.

"I've wanted to kiss that little fucking heart all day," he whispered against her ear. "Has anyone kissed it before?"

"No," she uttered helplessly. Why were her legs going numb?

"Good. It's all mine then." He kissed it again, let his lips linger,  then dipped his affection to her neck. "Do you forgive me now?"

Blaire blinked slowly at the full moon through the bare tree branches  above. "No?" The word came out soft, like a question. Why? Because it  was a huge lie. He'd basically kissed her into a coma without even  touching her lips, and he was now forgiven for everything he had done  and everything he would do again.

Gentry's chuckle was deep and resonated through his chest. He hadn't put  his jacket back on, and her hand was splayed over the perfect line  between his defined pecs. She could feel his laugh, but not well enough,  so she pulled off her glove with her teeth and let it drop to the snow  beside them. And then she slid her hand under the hem of his shirt. He  twitched and then punched out a slight breath when her fingers brushed  the lowest of his abs.

Her hands were cold, while Gentry felt like he was running a fever. A  sliver of worry washed through her. "Are you okay?" Maybe he was coming  down with a cold or something.

Gentry responded by pressing his hips against hers and guiding her wrist  up higher under his shirt. "Never been better, Trouble. Now you're  earning my forgiveness, too."

"Your forgiveness," she snorted.

"Who threw the first snowball?"

"Oh."

His abs were like mounds of stone, but his skin was smooth and soft. Up,  up, she pressed on, memorizing his body until she reached his chest.  And there, he splayed her palm against his pec, right over his pounding  heart. His breathing was deeper, his cheeks flushed, and his erection  was so hard against her she forgot the cold completely. It was so easy  to get lost in moments like these with a man like Gentry. No, not a man  like Gentry. Just Gentry. She'd never felt so consumed by another person  in her entire life. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once.

"Can I tell you something?" he murmured, trapping her in that bright green gaze.

"You can tell me anything." And she meant it. She wanted to know  everything about this man who was pulling yet another of her  heartstrings onto him.

"I'm taking you someplace that's really special to me, to my family, and  it used to be special to the people of this town. It's called Winter's  Edge."

Chills blasted up her arms, but it wasn't from the cold. The way he'd  said Winter's Edge, so reverently, made her realize just how special the  paintbrush gift had been. He was showing her a big part of himself  tonight. Gentry was letting her in.

"What is it?" she whispered.

His heart pounded faster under her palm, and he gripped her hips. "It's a  bar. My dad left the place to me in his will. I haven't been back to  this town in years, but I have good memories. Some, anyway. Winter's  Edge is one of them. I grew up playing there, learning the business,  working there when I was old enough. It was supposed to be mine."                       
       
           



       

"Like the inn?"

"The inn is secondary income. My dad didn't even make enough to float us  on rentals at the inn, but Winter's Edge was where everyone used to  hang out."

"What happened to it?"

"My dad died."

"When?" she whispered.

Gentry scrubbed his hand down his face and swallowed hard before he answered. "A week and a half ago."

"Gentry," she drawled out, her heart breaking for him. Blaire didn't  know what possessed her to do it, but she stood up on her tiptoes and  rested her cheek against his. They weren't hugging, just standing there,  touching faces, both of their breath shaking in the silence of the  night.

There were no words that she could say to make this easier on him, so  she waited. And waited. And when he finally did pull her into a tight  hug, she did her best to blink back the moisture that rimmed her eyes.  She couldn't even imagine losing her mom. A week and a half? It had just  barely happened, and Gentry had been walking around with all this pain,  seemingly normal, and now she was starting to get a glimpse of just how  strong Gentry Striker was. Not just physically-that had been apparent  from day one. But he was strong emotionally in ways she truly respected.