Page 31 of Gator

“That makes more sense,” frowned Gator. “I had a feeling that it was more than just not wanting to get him in trouble. Look, we’ve always let it slide with Gabi because everyone thought it was funny, and we knew she meant absolutely nothing by it. She never once said anything like that with patients outside of our family.

“But had a doctor outside of our compound made those sorts of comments to us, I can damn sure tell you I would have said something. I suppose that makes me a hypocrite or something, but that’s the way I feel.”

Two hours later, full beyond belief, Gator and Dylan walked in the brisk night air, weaving through the gardens and hedges. He spoke of his childhood at Belle Fleur, his mother and father, and how they fell in love. He told her of his grandparents, Erin and Nine, and how they met.

“Holy cow! In a cave?” she asked with shock.

“Yep, in a cave,” laughed Gator. “So, I guess meeting outside a wedding with a plate of food on my suit is pretty tame.”

“I guess so,” she laughed. “I met your aunt today, Ellie and Jax. Their story was inspiring as well. I mean, he was in love with her for a long time before he finally decided to ask her father’s permission to date her. I think it’s very romantic, very sweet, and it proves that age means nothing. If you love someone, and they love you, that’s all that matters.”

“Yea, they’re awesome,” smiled Gator. “When I was a kid, they would often take me on vacations with them. I think it was an excuse so they could go to amusement parks and not be looked at strangely. But they’re awesome.”

“You’re very lucky, Ian. To have all of these people, all of this love around you. It’s just amazing.”

“You have that now, too,” he smiled. They stepped onto the front porch and into the warmth of the cottage. The fireplace was lit, the logs burning bright, and Gator knew that a ghost or two had been present.

“What now?” she asked, smiling at him nervously.

“What do you want to happen now?” he asked, tucking her black silky hair behind her ear.

“I want to get out of these clothes. Crawl into bed naked with you. And have you make sweet love to me,” she smiled.

“Well, that’s going to be quite a chore, but I think I’m up for it,” he grinned. He bent down, kissing her lips, nibbling on that soft, pillowy lower lip. He tasted their dinner, the sweet caramel of the crème brulé.

Dylan ran her hands up his chest as his beard tickled her face. The snaps on the shirt popped open, and her cool touch caused goose bumps on his flesh. She shoved the shirt over his shoulders as her hand touched the huge tattoo covering his right shoulder and upper arm. He was still wearing a warm stocking cap on his head, and she tossed it aside, his dark hair now in a sexy mess.

“I’ve never met a man that looks like you,” she whispered. “I mean, there are two hundred here that technically look like you, but before that.” Gator laughed, nodding his head.

“I knew what you meant. We spend a lot of time training. The SEALs are insane about training. Any of the spec ops groups are. When we’re not on a mission, we’re off training somewhere. In fact, there have been a lot of deaths during training accidents, which only proves how intense we are in our conditioning. We try to make it as real as possible, and sometimes that’s dangerous.”

“I’m glad you were never hurt,” she said, kissing his chest. Gator gripped her hair, tilting her head back. He ran his rough tongue down her neck, then gripped the bottom of the sweater and pulled it over her head. Her breasts were perfectly round, natural in every way.

“I didn’t say I was never hurt,” he smiled.

With one hand, he unbuckled his jeans, pulling the zipper down and shoving them to his ankles. He kicked off the boots, then the jeans, and stood in his boxer briefs. Pointing to his side, she saw the long thin scar of what was most likely a knife. On his back were shrapnel and bullet wounds. When he turned, he shoved just the top of his briefs down to reveal another long scar.

Dylan stared up at him, then looked down at the scar. Bending slightly, she kissed it, then ran her tongue along the length. She could feel the heat of his cock hitting her face and lay her hand against the long, firm ridge.

“Fuck, Dyl,” he murmured.

“I like when you call me that,” she grinned. “Dyl.”

“And I fucking love when you call me Ian,” he said, kissing her again.

She stepped back from him and lowered her own jeans, kicking off her boots as well. When they were in nothing except their undergarments, he grabbed her hand and walked toward the bedroom.

“We have one problem,” he said, standing in the middle of the room. “If I have you tonight, Dyl, I want it every night. I don’t want to be relegated to the guest bedroom after this. I want us to share this room.”

“A-all the time?” she sputtered. “I mean, every night?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “Every night, every day, every week, every fucking year. I won’t push you right now, but I know I want to marry you, honey.”

“Really? I mean, even knowing about Joey and how…”

“Don’t go any further. You know enough of me and my family to know that none of that matters. None of it. He’s your son. Your flesh and blood. It’s highly unlikely the bodyguard will come around, but if he does, we’ll find a way to do this anyway.”

“Just make love to me, Ian,” she whispered breathlessly against his lips.

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