“Gabe, why don’t you ever talk about yourself?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“We talk every day, but I don’t feel like I know much about your past, your friends and family, your home.”

“No one wants to know all that boring stuff,” he said, hefting Melanie’s suitcase and his duffle bag from the porch.

“I do,” she said, following him into the house.

“You don’t talk about that stuff either,” he said.

“Well, that’s because my life is boring.”

“Not to me,” he said.

She paused just inside the threshold to gape at the interior of his home. It was an open plan. Very open. The two-story living space had Melanie craning her neck to view the exposed wooden beams high above. She could see all the way through the house to the expansive kitchen at the back. A loft above the kitchen looked cozy with its massive fireplace. The home’s furnishings were masculine and strong. Tables and shelving were all heavy, dark woods paired with black iron hardware. The fabrics were forest greens and navy blues, beige and browns and plaids. She didn’t see any dead animal heads hanging on the walls, but the place definitely had the feel of a hunting lodge.

“Do you hunt?” she asked.

“Do you?”

“Uh, no.”

“I’m more of a fisherman. I’ll take you out on the boat tomorrow. If I decide to get out of bed.”

He whistled for Lady, and the dog scampered into the house, her nails clicking against the dark hardwood floor. Beau flopped down on a thick rug near the door and Lady lay on top of him, much to Beau’s obvious annoyance. When no amount of squirming would move Lady from her resting place, the big, yellow dog huffed in acceptance and closed his large chocolate-brown eyes.

“Do you like to fish?” Gabe asked as he shifted both bags to one hand so he could close the front door and lock it.

“I’ve never been,” she admitted.

“You’re from Kansas and you’ve never been fishing?”

She shook her head.

“What in the world have you been doing all your life?”

“Riding tornados to Oz and following yellow brick roads,” she teased.

He chuckled. “This way, Dorothy. I’ll give you the grand tour tomorrow.” He gestured toward the back of the house. “My bed is in here.”

She followed him toward a door off to the left of the great room. She bumped into him when he paused on the threshold.

“I guess I shouldn’t assume that you want to sleep with me tonight,” he said. “I do have a pair of guest rooms upstairs if you’d be more comfortable sleeping alone.”

“Don’t make me smack you,” she said testily. She was too tired to play coy. All she wanted to do was fall into his arms and then fall asleep.

“I was just trying to remember my manners,” he said and entered what turned out to be a huge master suite.

Its décor was also very masculine, more heavy furniture with dark woods. More dark colors and not a doily in sight. The king-sized bed in the center of the room was the most beautiful thing Melanie had ever seen. She didn’t even have the decency to wait for him to drop her luggage before she kicked off her shoes and began to tug off her clothes in gleeful abandon. She normally wore a cotton nightgown to bed, but she didn’t think Gabe would mind if she slept in the buff tonight. She didn’t think she could keep her eyes open long enough to find sleepwear, much less don it.

He left their luggage at the door and made a pit stop in the connecting bathroom. By the time he returned, naked and gorgeous, Melanie was already under the covers and blinking drowsily.

He shut off the light, and a moment later she felt the mattress sag beside her. Gabe tugged her against him, pressing his chest against her back and other things against her bottom. She was too tired to be interested in that particular appendage. At least that’s what she thought until he whispered, “Good night, sweetheart. I promise to wake you properly in the morning with an orgasm and a smile.”

Her eyes popped open, unable to make out more than shadows in the dark room.

“Not if I wake you up improperly first,” she said.

He didn’t counter her statement, but she knew he’d heard her because his cock stirred against her ass.

Chapter Eleven

Melanie had been woken at dawn by her full bladder and after using the nearest toilet, she had even taken a moment to find her toiletries so she could brush the road-kill taste from her mouth—so not attractive. But what woke her later that morning wasn’t the call of nature or even the brilliant sunlight streaming in through the double doors that lead to a back deck. No, what pulled her from a delicious sleep was a pair of strong hands slowly drawing her legs apart, tender, teasing kisses at the tops of her thighs, and a soft, wet tongue flicking sparks of pleasure against her clit. Her eyes remained tightly closed, but her mouth fell open as Gabe licked and sucked and kissed her to earth-shattering orgasm.

Her back arched off the bed, her fingers clinging to the sheet beneath her. She cried out in bliss.

Gabe kissed his way up her belly, pausing at her navel to catch between his teeth the bit of jewelry dangling from her piercing. He gave the decoration a firm tug and then continued his path of gentle kisses upward until they were eye to eye.

“That was your good-morning orgasm,” he said. “Here’s your smile.”

He offered her that perfect knockout smile of his, and she melted into the sheets, her heart throbbing in appreciation of his gorgeousness. How wonderful would it be to wake up to that every morning?

“Where’s my smile?” he asked, green eyes twinkling with amusement.

She grinned at him.

“There it is.”

She wondered if he was always so chipper in the morning. She was willing to sacrifice all her time and attention to find out.

“You drool in your sleep,” he said.

Her mouth dropped open in indignation. “I do not!”

“You do. And you snore like…” He made a series of noises that sounded like a rusty chain saw.

She grabbed a pillow and smacked him in the head with it.

“Oh, she wants to fight this morning,” he said.

He grabbed both of her wrists in a vice-like grip and penned them to the bed on either side of her head. Being held down sent her pulse racing. He wouldn’t hurt her, would he? Would she mind if he did? Gabe scooted down her body and blew a loud, rude-sounding raspberry on her chest. She giggled at the strange sensation vibrating through her breast.

“Boobies!” he cried gleefully and blew more raspberries on what he obviously considered his morning entertainment.

She squirmed, trying to release her hands from his grip so she could defend her breasts from his tickling assault. He was relentless.

“What have you been eating, woman? Beans and broccoli?” He blew more raspberries. “Dear God, you should warn a fella.”

She was soon laughing so hard, her stomach ached.

“Gabe!” she yelled. “I can’t breathe.”

“If you can talk, you can breathe,” he said.

She bucked her hips, trying to throw him off. She couldn’t take much more. He caught her nipple in his mouth and she went boneless as pleasure spiked through her breast.

“Mmm, boobies,” he murmured in his most sultry voice.

Melanie snorted with laughter.

“Are you laughing at me, woman?” he asked and lifted his head to steal her breath with his smile. Honestly, the man should do toothpaste commercials.

Melanie pursed her lips and shook her head with as much seriousness as she could muster.

“Then I must be doing something wrong,” he said and blew a raspberry on her throat.

She squealed and scrunched her neck. “Don’t I owe you an orgasm?” she asked, hoping to distract him from his evil plan to make her laugh herself to death.

“Now that you mention it…” He leaped from the bed as if it was on fire. “Stay there.”