So unlike her and her normal state of mind.
It occurred to Gaby that she no longer knew herself. She wasn’t a woman who partook of physical pleasure with abandon.
She wasn’t a woman who allowed others to soothe her.
She didn’t even let others touch her.
With her insight into the evil that existed all around her, and her never-ending duty to extirpate it, she wasn’t a happy woman. Ever.
How could she be? Her understanding of societal monstrosities refuted any thoughts toward true happiness.
And yet, right now, peacefulness permeated her being.
Oh God, it was a scary thing to feel this level of happiness.
Fear got its ugly fangs in her. If she changed for Luther, who would she be? What would she be?
“Shh,” he said ever so softly. “Don’t go there, baby. Not yet. I need a few minutes to recoup before we get started on all that.”
All what? Eyes widening, heart pumping fast and hard, Gaby wondered if he’d somehow read her mind. Did he know her internal struggle, the demons that plagued her, that left her weak and ineffectual?
Tense with apprehension, she asked, “What are you talking about?”
He released an exaggerated, grievous sigh. “So there’s to be no respite, huh? You won’t even let me wallow in the languor a few minutes more?”
Having had no idea what the hell he meant, his nonsense grated on Gaby. The rush of irritation helped her to regain herself.
She went full force with familiar bitchiness. “Stop the bullshit, Luther.” She pushed at his shoulders. “And let me go.”
If anything, he snuggled her closer, cuddling her butt and breathing in as if smelling her, her skin and her hair. “Why would I want to do that?”
Lots of reasons presented themselves to Gaby’s beleaguered mind, but she said only, “I’m . . . wet.” She could feel a certain stickiness on her thighs that wasn’t altogether unpleasant as much as very unfamiliar.
“Yeah.” As if that pleased Luther, his voice deepened. He pressed his mouth to her shoulder in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. “Wet with you,” he whispered, “and wet with me.”
Why stickiness turned him on, Gaby didn’t know. “You’re being weird, Luther.”
He sighed again. “I can’t believe I forgot to cover up.”
“Cover up?”
“I didn’t use a condom, Gaby.” He leaned away from her and gave her a look rife with affection and sincere apology. “I took risks with you, and I’m sorry.”
She started to ask, “What risk?” when Luther’s gaze went to her arm. She followed his line of vision and saw that blood had seeped through the bandage and sleeve of her stolen sweatshirt.
Shit.
Tensing, he stepped back and obliterated their intimate connection. It was the oddest thing, as if losing him left a void in her heart as well as her body. Gaby wanted him back. All of him.
But she’d be fucked before she admitted that to him.
To her surprise, he didn’t say a word about her arm. Instead, he wrestled her shirt off over her head and looked at her upper body. She hadn’t realized that her tussle with the drug dealers had left behind a few bruises.
Luther, damn him, managed to locate each and every one.
Naked except for her jeans and panties around her ankles, Gaby crossed her arms beneath her breasts and leaned back on the door. No way would she let him discomfort her with his scrutiny.
Jaw tight, Luther hitched up his jeans and raised the zipper. He didn’t bother with the snap before going to one knee and clasping her calf. “Lift your foot out.”
Gaby huffed in confusion. “I can undress myself, you know.”
He looked up at her. “We just had sex, Gaby. Afford me a few gentlemanly courtesies, please.”
How dumb. “Fine. Whatever. For you.” Now she felt horribly inelegant. Not that there’d ever been a single elegant thing about her anyway. “But I don’t need that nonsense.”
“I do.” Luther went about relieving her of the rest of her clothes.
He even took his time folding her jeans and sweatshirt and hanging them over his arm. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Maybe for more sex? Gaby had no argument against that. “Okay. But first things first.” She locked the front door, even secured the deadbolt, and then retrieved her knife in the sheath. “You need better locks on your house.”
He didn’t argue. “I’ll get a security system.”
His quick compliance wrought a questioning glance, but he wore no real expression at all. “When?”
“I’ll make some calls tomorrow.” He gestured up the stairs. “Now let’s go.”
Confused by his complaisance, she started up the stairs. “I need a quick shower first.”
Closer than she’d realized, his breath touched her nape when he said, “I was thinking more about a bath.”
“A bath?” She stopped, and Luther bumped into her.
His hands went to her waist. “I don’t yet know how badly your arm is hurt, but given how you shrug off near death, I’m assuming the necessity for a bandage means it’s significant.”
“Not really.” To chase off the lethargy, Gaby took the rest of the stairs two at a time. At the top step, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Got grazed by a bullet, that’s all.”
She went on down the hall and into the bathroom before she realized Luther hadn’t followed. Wondering what kept him, she started back out just as he came stomping in, and they nearly collided.
Gripping her shoulders in an iron hold, Luther took deep breaths that flared his nostrils and brought a flush to his face.
Rolling her eyes, Gaby pulled free of him and began unwrapping the bandage. “Get a grip, Luther, it’s not all that. And I’m a quick healer, if you remember. In a few days it’ll be fine.”
He didn’t look appeased, but Gaby paid no mind to his fast-shifting mood. “In fact, I plan to get a tattoo around it to hide any scar that might be left behind. I was told that normally a person has to wait at least a year for that, but I’ll convince the tattoo artist otherwise, no problem there.”
He smashed a finger to her mouth.
Not a good thing to do to a person like her. Gaby no sooner had that thought than she was struck with the realization that there were no other people like her.
She swatted Luther’s hand away with an overdose of irritation. “Don’t push it, cop.”
Still visibly struggling, he gave a stiff nod. “But do not start calling me that again. Use my name, damn it.” He turned and started the bathwater.
Gaby crossed her arms and stared at the gorgeous muscles in his back. “I prefer a shower.”
In a carefully moderated tone, he asked, “Have you ever had a nice long bath?”
“Well . . . ” She looked at the steam rising from the water as it filled the tub. The thought of soaking in that heat, relaxing, made her muscles go weak. “Not really, no.”
“Why?”
Most times, cautious of being caught off guard, she rushed through even her showers. “Showers are quicker.”
“You’re telling me you don’t have enough free time to indulge in a bath?”
“It’s not about having free time. It’s about being preoccupied.” When he still didn’t understand, she made a face. “I can fight naked if I have to, but it wouldn’t be my first preference.”
He paused, turned to stare at her, and then: “What?”
“Lounging around in a tub is a good way to be taken unawares.”
He seemed to droop before shoring up his determination again. “You’re safe enough here.”
“Yeah, right.” Her tone reeked of disdain. “No one is truly safe anywhere.”
“Right.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess that explains the steel door and all the locks where you used to live, huh?”
Where she used to live—because he thought she had completely moved in here. Gaby relented . . . a little. “I suppose that once the water is off, we’ll be able to hear if anyone breaks in.” She lifted her chin. “I have superior hearing, you know.”