Page 31 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

Heat rises to my cheeks, but something’s thrillingabout their openness and the way they don’t dance around what they want. It’s refreshing after years of, and many failed attempts with, other men who fumbled with their desires and made themselves weak when they should’ve been strong.

There’s nothing weak about Gabe or Hank—they own who they are.

Hank’s hand settles at the small of my back, guiding me outside.

Chapter 11

Glass doors slide open,revealing a sprawling deck stretching toward a cliff’s edge. The Pacific crashes below, thunder against the rocks. I move to the railing, my hair whipping in the salt-laden wind.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, closing my eyes as the roar of the waves envelops me.

“Gabe picked the location.” Hank joins me at the railing, carefully maintaining distance while staying close enough that I feel his protection. “He says the sound reminds him of white noise.”

“Among other things,” Gabe adds with a hint of dark promise, coming up on my other side.

“Like what?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

Gabe’s eyes darken as he leans closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “The crashing waves cover up the noise…” He pauses, his gaze holding mine. “When I break out my whips and chains.”

A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the ocean breeze. Instead of feeling threatened or uncomfortable, a strange thrill races up my spine.

“Is that supposed to scare me off?” I challenge, surprising myself with my boldness.

“No.” His lips quirk into a dangerous smile. “Just being honest about what you’re getting into. You’re free to make as much noise as you need to. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Gabe,” Hank warns.

“What?” Gabe shrugs, completely unapologetic. “You said no secrets.”

The casual way he discusses his darker preferences should be alarming, but it isn’t. His straightforwardness is refreshing—no games, no pretending, just raw honesty about who he is and what he wants.

“I appreciate the honesty,” I say, meeting his gaze. “It’s … refreshing.”

A spark of approval flashes in his eyes. “Good to know.”

They both gesture to different features of the property—Hank points out the private path down to a small cove below, while Gabe draws my attention to the outdoor kitchen tucked into the corner of the deck.

As they talk, they move closer, the space between us gradually shrinking until they’re bracketing me, Hank steady at my back while Gabe stands before me.

Hank’s solid warmth radiates behind me, his breath stirring my hair. Gabe’s eyes soften as he studies my face in the fading light. His hand reaches out, hesitating for a moment before cupping my cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. “Even more so here, with the ocean behind you and the setting sun lighting your face.”

I lean into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed for a moment. The air between us changes, grows heavier with anticipation.

“Kiss her, Gabe,” Hank’s voice comes from behind me, low and commanding, yet somehow tender. “Kiss our girl.”

Our girl.

The possessive phrase sends a tremor throughme. Gabe leans in before I can process it. His eyes hold mine for a heartbeat before closing. Then his lips find mine.

The first touch is deceptively gentle—a whisper of contact that belies the tension in his body. He angles his head, finding the perfect fit as his mouth claims mine more fully. A hint of coffee and something darker, something uniquely him, floods my senses. His hand cups my cheek, thumb stroking a delicate path along my cheekbone while his other hand slides to my waist, fingers splaying possessively against my hip as he yanks me flush against him, obliterating any remaining space.

What starts as controlled quickly transforms. A groan vibrates deep in his chest as he presses closer, his broad chest against mine. He’s unhurried and thorough—like a man discovering a flavor he plans to savor for years. His body curves around mine, strong and solid, with a slight tremor in his muscles revealing how much restraint he exercises.

I catch the subtle shifts—the tightening of his fingers, the quickening of his breath, the almost imperceptible rock of his hips. For all his control, his kiss promises so much more.

When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entry, I open to him without hesitation. The kiss deepens, and with it, Gabe allows himself one moment of abandon—his hand sliding from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him as his tongue strokes against mine.

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