The one thing that stuck with Gabi long after the service was over and the house was clean . . . the Harrisons’ extended family, their friends, and those that Gabi now considered her friends were some of the most genuine people she’d ever met. They stuck with Samantha and Blake, took care of them and their two children . . . did everything so they didn’t have to. Having grown up with only her brother and mother most of her life, Gabi was humbled by the friendships she’d managed in her short time in California.
She checked the baked ziti one last time and opened a bottle of cabernet to breathe while she waited for Hunter to come home.
The alarm system in the home told her the gate allowing cars in had been opened. She took a moment to light the candles on the kitchen counter. The kitchen and dining room tables were on order . . . the living room furniture was nothing more than several pictures on her phone that she couldn’t decide between. The house had a den . . . and Gabi decided Hunter was on his own for that space. She’d never furnished a bedroom, let alone an entire house. Having a blank checkbook and tastes that ranged from island simple to elegant Italian castles, Gabi was torn.
The sound of Hunter’s dress shoes against the wood floor announced his arrival.
“What is that wonderful smell?”
She blew out the match as Hunter rounded the corner of the kitchen, flowers in one hand, his jacket in the other.
Gabi leaned a hip against the counter and smiled.
Hunter stopped before he entered the kitchen. “Hi, honey . . . I’m home.”
The laughter that erupted wasn’t expected.
“I couldn’t stop myself,” he said.
She kept giggling. “I see the busses missed their mark again.”
Now he laughed as he walked into the middle of the kitchen, tossed his jacket and the flowers on the counter, and captured her around the waist. This was all they’d really managed over the past few weeks . . . a kiss. Yet each one was charged and full. Each one kept her up at night.
When Hunter drew his lips away, he hummed. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She smoothed back a lock of hair from his forehead.
“This is a first.”
“What is?”
“Walking into the front door of my home and finding a beautiful woman cooking.”
“Our home,” she corrected. “And good.” She pushed away. “Maybe tomorrow I won’t ask that a bus take my blackmailing husband out.”
Hunter placed a mocking hand to his chest. “I’m touched.”
Gabi lifted a brow. “Not yet.”
His smirk dropped and something a whole lot sexier took its place.
She turned on her heel and made a show of checking the ziti in the oven.
Hunter grabbed her from behind, turned her around so fast she couldn’t think, and pinned her against the counter. He robbed her of coherent thought as he tested the endurance of her molars with his tongue. Out of control, Hunter was a force. One she loved to unleash.
Something soft hit the floor and Hunter’s arms were molding her body to his. The buzzer on the oven didn’t break their connection. It had been too long, and they were both hungry.
She slapped the oven, cracked it open before Hunter dragged her away from her dinner.
Halfway up the stairs, he stopped trying to kiss her, leaned over, and tossed her over his shoulder.
A little breathless, and laughing more than she ever had, he tossed her on the bed and pounced.
She welcomed him into her arms, curled her legs around him, and rolled until she was straddling his hips.
His hands traveled inside her shirt and played with the edges of her bra.
Gabi tugged on his tie without releasing the knot as Hunter rid her of her blouse.
She pulled the tie from over his head and slid it over hers.
He growled. “That tie is forever branded.” He used it to pull her close as he kissed her senseless.
He was hard.
And she was hungry.
Her bra found the floor, his shirt . . . until only the tie remained. “I need to be inside you, Gabi.”
“Please.” She reached for a box of condoms she’d bought and placed under his pillow. “Let’s burn through these.”
Hunter’s smile filled his gray eyes, his laughter echoed in the nearly empty room. Then he was there, filling her, completing her.
Seemed every time they’d managed to make love since Dallas, her resolve to stay distant became nothing more than a memory. In Hunter’s arms she was alive, loneliness left her alone, and passion took its place.
When he’d rocked her universe, twice . . . Gabi wasn’t hungry at all.
Later, the candles were glowing along with the fire Hunter had started in the master bedroom. She wore his shirt, his tie, and he donned boxers while they enjoyed her slightly dry ziti and a lovely bottle of wine.