Jacob's Ladder: Gabe (Jacob's Ladder #1)

Of course, there was the glaring issue that she despised me. Yeah, she hadn’t just turned me down; my advances had utterly crashed and burned. But, maybe if I explained my situation to her, she would change her mind. What woman wouldn’t want to be a man’s muse? That was all kinds of romantic.

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, I recoiled at my reflection. Not only was my hair a mess, I was starting to resemble the Wolfman with my lack of shaving. I lifted my arm to sniff under my arms. Eli might’ve been exaggerating about me stinking the previous day, but I certainly did now after wading through the mud and sleeping in the car.

There was no way I could see Rae like this. If I was going to ask her to hang out with me, I needed to look presentable, sexy, desirable—not like a swamp-man, as I did now. Surely if she spent more than five minutes with me, she’d want me. Yeah, I could start slow, lure her in, let her see what she was missing because she’d written me off.

Although I had a change of clothes with me, I found myself with a lack of running water. When I checked the time on my phone, I saw it was barely seven a.m. I had plenty of time to find a hotel or motel to get presentable in before Rae got to work. While I worked on improving my physical self, I would also need to work on how to get Rae to accept my compromise. Then she’d have no choice but to like me…right?





As strong arms enveloped me within their grasp, a warm mouth closed over mine. Stubble brushed against my cheek as his tongue thrust inside my mouth. Our tongues tangled together with the same desperation as our arms and legs. With his cock buried deep inside me, I raised my hips to meet his frantic thrusts. The most intense pleasure I’d ever experienced ricocheted through me.

“Yes, Gabe!” I cried.

And just as I orgasmed, I came awake with a start. As my gaze swung around my empty bedroom, both relief and mortification pulsed through me. First, I was thankful to see that Gabe Renard wasn’t actually in my bed, and second, I was embarrassed as hell that I had just experienced an orgasm merely off his image.

The truth was, I often took a while to come with physical stimulation, but I seemed to be doing just fine without it this morning. Both my hands were above the covers and nowhere near my center. I was sure Gabe would find it amusing as hell that just me dreaming of his hands and mouth on my body had the ability to make me come. As cocky as he was, I knew he would have never doubted his ability with a woman.

“Dammit,” I huffed as I kicked off the sheets. How could I have possibly just had a sex dream about someone I detested? Even if he was physically sex on a stick, Gabe was a complete asshole and egomaniac. He was exactly the kind of man I loathed to come in contact with both personally and professionally, the kind who thought a woman’s true purpose was to be a life support system for a pussy.

The blaring of my alarm clock on the nightstand drew me out of my thoughts. Rising out of bed, I threw my arms over my head and stretched. After pulling my hair into a messy bun, I threw my robe on over my nightgown. When I opened my bedroom door, the deliciously decadent scent of espresso entered my nostrils. I padded down the hallway and into the kitchen, where Kennedy stood at the stove and Ellie sat at the counter, manning the espresso maker. Since we all needed caffeine running through our veins to not only survive but not throat punch someone, we’d all chipped in to buy the rather expensive appliance.

“Morning,” I called as I walked over to the cabinet to get a coffee mug.

With spatula in hand, Kennedy glanced at me over her shoulder. “Morning.”

“Were you running this morning?” Ellie asked, her dark hair swept up in a ponytail.

“No. Why?”

“Your face is all red, and you’re sweaty.”

My skin burned like a raging wildfire under her inspection. “Oh…must be a reaction from the nightmare that woke me up.” I wasn’t totally lying—any form of a sexual scenario with me and Gabe Renard was a nightmare, regardless of what my traitorous body wanted to think.

With a gasp, Ellie’s hand flew to her mouth and her brown eyes widened.

“What?” I demanded at her reaction.

“Were you…” She waggled her brown brows.

Kennedy whirled around at the stove. “Seriously, Ellie, if you’re going to talk about it, at least say the word: masturbating. Rae was masturbating.”

“I was not!” I huffed.

She jabbed the spatula at me as her dark eyes narrowed on mine. “Then why did I hear moans coming from your bedroom?”

Ducking my head, I focused on pouring some espresso. “Because I was having a scary nightmare.” Once I had filled my cup, I finally met Kennedy’s intense stare. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“What’s with you?”

“Nothing.”

Kennedy shook her head as she flipped the omelet in the skillet onto a plate. “I call bullshit, little sis. You’re never one to shy away from sex talk.” After she passed the plate to me, she lowered her voice to ask, “You didn’t sneak a man in here last night, did you?”

“No, I most certainly did not. You know how I feel about that with Linc.” Since the time he was old enough to understand what was going on, I’d always feared Linc finding a strange man in my bed. Because of that, I’d always had sex at the guy’s place or let Linc go spend the night with my dad and Stella.

Shrugging, Kennedy said, “You could always lock the door and sneak the guy out the window.”

“Thank you. I’ll remember that if the need ever arises.”

Ellie eyed me thoughtfully as she chewed on a piece of bacon. “If a man wasn’t in your room, then you must’ve been masturbating.”

I sighed. “Fine. If you must know, I was having a sex dream.” Shuddering, I added, “A very intense sex dream.”

“Ha! I knew it was something sexual,” Ellie replied as she gave me a triumphant look.

After handing me the omelet, Kennedy chewed her lip in thought. “Why are you so embarrassed about a sex dream?

“Because of who starred in it.”

Wrinkling her nose, Ellie said, “Ew, it wasn’t Vernon, wasn’t it?”

I started choking on my omelet. After I threw back some coffee, I replied, “God no!” Vernon Neighbors was a sixty-year-old front-end specialist at Hart and Daughter Wreckers. With his greasy hair and wiry frame, he was no woman’s fantasy lover.

“Ah, but he’s a front-end specialist,” Kennedy joked, waggling her brows.

“For the record, Vernon will never be allowed anywhere near my front end.” When Kennedy opened her mouth, I shook my head. “That goes for my rear end as well.”

While Kennedy laughed, Ellie slid into a chair across from me at the table. “Don’t hold out on us—tell us who the mystery fucker was.”

“Gabe Renard.”

“Like the Gabe Renard, the drummer for Jacob’s Ladder?” Ellie questioned.

“I’m pretty sure he’s the only Gabe Renard I know.”

“What brought that one on? Were you listening to some of their music before you went to bed or something?”

As Kennedy brought her plate over the table, she replied, “Nope. She answered the tow call when he got his Jeep stuck out on Cutler’s Ridge yesterday.”

Forget the old adage of saucers—Ellie’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates at this revelation. “You actually met Gabe Renard?”