"Yes."
"You?"
John nodded his head, his eyes never leaving hers. Unprepared for her reaction, the massive British man was knocked back when she once again threw her voluptuous body against his. He felt the tears sting his eyes as he held a sobbing Gillian in his strong arms. John stroked her hair and back as she cuddled against his hair covered chest. Why was she crying? Was she upset with him because John had killed Galen or relieved to hear that the man was dead? Either way, John had to find out.
"Kitten, look at me, sweetheart," The Brit said as she raised up and wiped at her eyes. "I'm not going to apologize for killing Galen. He would have killed you if I hadn't. You may be mad at me but—"
"Mad?" Gillian replied in surprise as she searched John's face. "Bear, I'm not mad at you for killing Galen. You saved my life! I love you, Pooh Bear."
Relief washed over John as he grabbed her shoulders and slammed his mouth down on hers, claiming her lips in a passionate kiss. Gillian was not mad at him, but more than that, she loved him! He felt his heart swell as he deepened the kiss and mated his tongue with hers. Gillian loved him! She had said it in France, but John had thought she would blame him for what had happened. He could tell by the look on her beautiful face that she was telling him the truth and he was completely at a loss for words. Hearing Gillian cry out in pain again, the billionaire came to his senses and immediately released his grip on his girl.
"Are you sure you want to push me away John?" Gillian asked as she snuggled up against her lover and began placing kisses on his neck. She could feel the large bulge between her legs and knew John wanted her too. Although she was hurt, Gillian needed to feel John inside of her. Running her hands up his chest, she massaged his male nipples. At his ears, she whispered, "I want you inside of me, Bear, and I know you want me. Let me take care of you. I'll be careful. I promise."
"Kitten, what in the fuck are you doing to me?" John growled between clenched teeth as his cock throbbed. He wanted to fuck his woman senseless, but if he hurt her again, he would never forgive himself. What he needed was space before he did something he would regret. Again, John pushed Gillian off his lap before quickly jumping off the bed. Without another word, he headed straight for the bathroom and slammed the door.
Gillian sat in the middle of the bed in shock. She also felt hurt from John's obvious rejection. Why was he suddenly pushing her away? John had been unable to keep his hands off her the day before. Did he think she had gone willingly with Galen? Now that she thought about it, John had not said he loved her in return. Maybe that had angered him? She had let the words slip out of her mouth without thought but had meant every word. Feeling the tears stinging her emerald eyes once again, she wrung her hands together nervously. Gillian needed to confront John. Jumping out of the bed, she was unprepared for the sudden wave of dizziness and nausea that had her falling to her knees. However, instead of hitting the floor, she was caught in a powerful pair of arms.
"Whoa, lovey. I got you," Patrick said as he steadied Gillian from falling. When her eyes met his, the Irishman leaned down and softly kissed her lips. Breaking the kiss, he swooped her up in his arms and cradled her a moment before putting her back in the bed.
"Thank you, Patrick," Gillian said, holding his hand a moment and staring into his translucent turquoise eyes. She needed the physical touch to slow her racing heart; however, touching the blond giant had the opposite effect.
Patrick's eyes roamed over Gillian's voluptuous, naked body while she rubbed his hand. His cock hardened immediately as his eyes feasted on her puffy, round breasts and large, wine-colored nipples. His cock pulsed and his mouth watered when his gaze dropped lower and he devoured the juicy, well-manicured pussy between her legs. Fuck, this woman was the most sensual creature he had ever laid eyes on! Here, Gillian was hurt, not even intentionally trying to tempt him, and he wanted to bury himself between her porcelain legs. What the fuck was wrong with him?
Jerking his hand away from hers roughly, Patrick needed to put distance between them. As he walked over to grab the breakfast tray, he gruffly asked, "What in the bloody hell were you doing out of bed? And where in the hell is Johnny?"
"John is in the bathroom," Gillian replied shakily as she quickly wiped at her wet eyes. With her head down, she quietly said, "I was trying to go get him, but I think I got up too fast. What time is it?"
"A little after ten," the Irishman said, walking over to the windows to open the curtains and allow the sunlight to filter in. Patrick then walked back over to the bed where he lifted her head up with one finger. "How are you feeling this morning, sweetheart? Are you still dizzy?"
"No, but my throat and face hurt. They feel swollen, actually. It hurts to swallow."
"Dutch will be in soon to see you. He had me put some pain medicine on your breakfast tray. I figured your throat would be sore, so I only brought you warm liquids," Patrick said, releasing her chin before sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"Thanks," Gillian replied hoarsely as she pulled a sheet up over her naked body. She suddenly was feeling uncomfortable as his eyes watched her intently. Picking up the tea from the tray, she took a small drink. "You know you don't have to be nice to me just because I got hurt. I know you don't like me, but I do appreciate you bringing me breakfast."
"Oh, I like you, lovey, very much, actually."
"I'm not talking about sex, Patrick. I know you want me sexually, but what I don't need is you to patronize me with kindness. I'm really not in the mood."
"Listen here, kitty," the Irishman began angrily, his eyes turning a darker shade of blue. "You'd better watch your tone, sweetheart. You're not too hurt to punish. I'm trying to be nice to you, but you're making it rather hard. I know you think I'm a bastard, but I don't get off on watching women in pain. If I'm being honest with you, I'm glad John brought you back. I might have even missed you a little."
Gillian was stunned by Patrick's words. Had the Irishman really missed her? Maybe he was feeling guilty for the way he'd treated her. Maybe he was just being nice so she would sleep with him again. Whatever the reason, she needed to feel as though someone gave a damn. Reaching out, Gillian picked up his scarred hand. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed the fingers. "I'm sorry, Patrick. I'm not feeling well, and I shouldn't take it out on you."
Patrick responded to her by gently cupping her jaw and kissing her lips. When his tongue began to mate with hers, Gillian melted into his touch and threw her arms around his neck. Her clit began to throb painfully with need, when she heard Patrick growl in the back of his throat and deepen the kiss.
"Pat, fuck!" John yelled as he came back into the bedroom dressed in his jeans and a grey t-shirt. On his dark head, he wore a black skull cap. "She's hurt, dammit! She doesn't need your tongue down her throat!"
Patrick broke the kiss and pulled back only to smile at John before his mouth once again found Gillian's. When he ended the kiss, the Irishman loved the look of lust he saw in her emerald eyes. Over his shoulder, he said, "You should be thanking me for coming when I did, Johnny. Our kitty was about to hit the floor."