“Is she okay?” Kelly Anders appeared with the cell phone in one hand and a revolver in the other.
“She’s okay, but the two thugs who tried to hurt her are out cold in the dirt thanks to Gabriele,” Ron Anders told his wife, and the men chuckled.
“Served them scumbags right,” Dave said as Gabriele reached out to touch Lucia then pulled back.
She didn’t know why he wouldn’t touch her. Then her mind jumped to conclusions about what was revealed to them about her past, and about being sexually assaulted.
“Gabriele, you’re hurt,” she whispered. She looked at his hands, and when she reached out, she cringed.
His expression of concern caused a reaction in her, and she reached out, wanting him, needing him close. He understood as he gently lifted her up into his arms and carried her from the woods. Ron and Shay stayed with the guys until Wyatt and his deputies arrived, while Dave and Kelly made sure that he and Lucia were all right.
* * * *
Gabriele called his brothers and told them what happened as Dave and Kelly left them alone to head back to speak with Wyatt. He washed his hands with soap and water in the sink, seeing the swollen knuckles and feeling the sting. Lucia stood next to him, unwilling to remove her sweater to let him check her shoulder.
She stared at his hands, and the emotion in her eyes was overwhelming. She appeared to be about to lose it. She patted his hands dry with the towel, her delicate fingers soothing to his body. He was feeling so much and worried that she wasn’t.
“Lucia?”
She shook her head and then looked up toward him, her head tilted way back, her eyes glistening.
“You saved me,” she said, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
He reached out to caress the stray tear from her cheek. “Of course, Lucia. We told you that we were here for you to protect you always. Didn’t you believe us?” he teased. The pure, honest look of uncertainty in her eyes tore through his heart as she shook her head.
“I didn’t,” she said and then hugged him tight. He ran his hands along her waist as he held her in his arms. When she looked up at him, he cupped her face between his hands and he lowered his mouth to hers. He had never been one to be called gentle, compassionate, and sensitive, or anything close to it. He was a welder, a soldier, and a hardened man. But with this beautiful young woman in his arms, he felt capable of all those things and only for her.
That kiss grew deeper.
She kissed him back, gripped his shirt in her fists, and held on as he explored her mouth thoroughly. He trailed kisses along her throat, her neck, as his hands explored her body. He could feel her tense as he maneuvered his palms under her sweater to her breasts.
“Easy, baby. It’s me. No one else. No one that will hurt you. I’ve got you.” He kissed her skin, and she relaxed a little.
The feel of her feminine curves delighted him. He ran his palms upward, cupping her abundant breasts and feeling the lace of her bra against his fingers. The material of her sweater irritated his chaffed skin, but the feel of her breasts, the taste of her skin eliminated the ache.
He lowered nearly to one knee and lifted her sweater to kiss her skin. Her flat, taut belly and skin, silky smooth and smelling of soap and female, aroused his senses. He licked and kissed her skin then across the light-pink scar.
“Gabriele.” She sounded desperate, concerned that she wouldn’t be able to let him go further, but he knew she needed to get comfortable and trust him.
“You’re mine, baby, as I’m all yours. Touch me too. Take from me whatever you want, whenever you need it,” he told her then pressed lips to her ribs then higher to the cleavage of her breast.
She gripped his shirt and ran her hands slowly under the buttons to his skin. He felt the singe of heat and desire.
“I love your hands, Lucia. They feel so good on my skin,” he admitted.
“I like how yours feel on mine, Gabriele,” she whispered. He reached for her sweater and began to raise it upward.
“Gabriele?”
“I want to check over your shoulder. Trust me,” he said, tilting his head up toward her face.
She tightened up, obviously in pain as he carefully removed her sweater. As he kissed her hip and ribs then turned her to face the mirror in the bathroom as he stood up, he cursed.
“Motherfuckers. I should have broken their fucking necks.”
“It’s okay, Gabriele. Calm down, please. You saved me. It’s okay,” she told him through the reflection in the mirror. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, his hands holding her by her hips, and he locked gazes with her. “You need some first aid. Do you know if there’s anything in here?” he asked.
“Under the sink, I think,” she said. He lowered down, opened the cabinet, keeping a hand possessively, protectively on her hip and ass. She swallowed hard as he stood up straighter and opened up the box.