The five-minute walk to Amber’s was too long. Walker lengthened his stride and did it in four. They didn’t say a word to each other on the way, but there was an energy building, an anticipation of what was going to happen. He had her in his arms and he wasn’t putting her down until it was on a bed. He used Gabi’s keys to open the front door and carried her inside.
‘Down there at the end,’ Gabi whispered, and he needed no further encouragement. He could see the flush on her cheeks and recognised the same rush of blood he felt just from holding her.
He took the corridor still carrying her. Her lips trailed to his neck, and he felt the flutter of her eyelashes there on his skin as she traced kisses to his collar. He was hot and hard by the time they reached her bedroom door and he carried her inside. The room was softly illuminated by moonlight through the open curtains and neither of them reached for a light.
Walker kicked the door shut before lowering her slowly to the bed, taking a moment to drink her in before their mouths crashed together in a kiss. Her lips parted for him, her chin lifted, and he tasted her with his tongue.
He paused above her, watching the rise and fall of her breast. The white of her throat, the dark of her eyes. Ever since the Lit Lounge, he’d wanted to touch her body again. When she’d kissed his cheek the other afternoon, he’d wanted to crush her against him. The energy inside her drew him like a magnet. Now, she tilted her face to him, half in invitation, half in defiance, and he couldn’t wait any more.
He cupped her head in his hands and devoured her mouth. Gabi moaned in response and the sound was like a match to kindling. He kissed her again, deep and long and hungry. She pressed back, her tongue searching for his. His hands dropped to her back, and he found the gap between her shirt and her skirt, the bare skin as soft and smooth as velvet. He spanned her stomach with his fingers, feeling her arch against his body at his touch. She wrapped one hand around his neck and ran the other up and into his hair. She was matching him move for move and the fierceness of it, the rush of it was electrifying.
Catching her hands, Walker pushed them above her head, pinning them to the pillow easily in one of his own. Her chest heaved and he could hear his own ragged breathing. Again, they faced each other, and he saw the flash of excitement in her eyes, like a dare, a challenge. Walker dropped his free hand to the top button of her checked shirt and flicked it open. Gabi’s eyes widened. He moved to the next one, feeling for the tiny pearl button and releasing it. The only thing holding her shirt together now was the knot she’d tied beneath her breasts.
‘Don’t move,’ he growled, letting go of her hands and using both hands to untie the material in his way and pull each side apart, uncovering her body in the moonlight. Her breasts were pale against the black lacy bra, fuller than he’d expected with her tiny frame. He ran his hands up and over them, pushing the shirt clear on both sides. Gabi moaned softly and dropped her head back against the pillow, offering herself to him. Walker blazed. He rounded his hands over her breasts. His fingers were gentle, tracing the shape of her, but his palms were firm, squeezing her until she moaned.
Tugging the bra out of the way, he exposed her and watched the cool of the night air drag goosebumps over her skin as he brushed his thumb over her nipples.
‘Walker,’ Gabi moaned and the sound of his name on her breath set him alight. He dropped his mouth to her breast and nipped at her nipple, sucking it until she gasped. He moved to the other, biting lightly at the swell of her breast. Her hands dropped from their position and wrapped his head, pressing him to her, wanting more. He feasted on her, only aware of her body, of the heat in his own.
Something beeped somewhere at the edge of his consciousness. The sound was like an alarm going off when he was in deep sleep. It beeped again. It took him a moment to realise what it was, to drag himself up through his layers of desire to the surface. Walker lifted his head, blinked himself into awareness, and reached for his back pocket.
‘What is that?’ Gabi looked dazed as though just waking herself.
‘My phone,’ Walker murmured, pulling it out and glancing at the screen. He groaned. ‘It’s the station.’ He straightened and ran a hand through his hair.
‘I have to go,’ he said.
‘You’re joking?’
‘I wish I was.’ He let himself look at her one more time before gently pulling Gabi’s shirt together. ‘Looks like the current crew needs a helping hand.’
‘I know how they feel,’ Gabi groaned. Walker laughed.
‘I’ll try to come straight back,’ Walker said. ‘But I don’t know when that might be.’
‘Take my keys.’ Gabi threw them and he caught them in one hand.
‘Will you be all right? Without your crutches?’
‘I’ll be fine.’ She rolled her eyes and he stopped her by dropping one last kiss on her mouth before turning away and striding down the corridor.
Fuck, fuck and fuck. Talk about timing.
Chapter Nineteen
Gabi
The front door closed quietly, leaving Gabi listening to her own heavy breathing in the silence of her bedroom.
Shit, shit, shit.
She hobbled to the window and stared out at the moonlit garden, waiting for her pulse to return to normal. Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt the tug of desire still very much present and wished her arms were his.
She felt as though she’d just ridden a roller coaster. Once he’d touched her, she was gone and there was no going back. In terms of the light entertainment he’d suggested, it couldn’t have been better. And although it hadn’t been the kind of pick-me-up she had in mind when she said it earlier, she’d never had a pick-me-up-and-carry-me-home before and it surpassed all expectations.
Gabi breathed out, very long and very slow. Was he going to come back?
The front door opened, and Gabi’s stomach felt hollow. She held her breath to hear. Noises in the corridor. Was it him returning straight away? Maybe it had been a false alarm. She hoped it was. Then voices in the kitchen, low and laughing, the clink of glasses and the slam of the fridge door. Footsteps on the stairs, then Amber’s whoop from her bedroom, and the soft sound of a guitar. Hmm, who would have thought it? At least someone was getting some. She checked the time. 12.43 a.m.
