Codename: Kryptonite

Chapter Thirty-five

Agent Mission Log Entry:

I love flashing my creds and making miracles happen! The locals arrived on the scene within just a few minutes. I told them that I had been assigned to Jon because he'd had death threats from a crazy stalker fan. I explained that Nate was that fan, and that he had tried to kill Jon.

After much bitching on Jon's part, a trip to the emergency room, ten stitches and a tetanus shot, we went back to the apartment. I made a call and Nate's body disappeared from the morgue before they could fingerprint him, because that just wouldn't do at all.

Thank God this is over!

"I can't believe you were such a little girl, Kidd," Richie teased as he followed Jon and Gabby into the penthouse.

Holding up a middle finger salute, Jon continued limping through the entry way and on into the living room. Richie laughed loudly, irritating Jon even more. "Fuck you, Asshole," Jon called from the couch. "Let her shoot you and see if you handle it any better." He sat gingerly, then propped his injured left leg up on the coffee table. "I'm telling you, Mook," Jon shook his head, "it burns like a motherfucker."

"Better the flesh wound in the thigh than the head shot Nate would've given you," Gabby responded. She actually felt like shit for having shot him, but she wasn't going to admit it - that would be like an invitation to be teased until the end of time by these two men.

Richie chuckled softly at her words. "Well, okay then," he grinned at the couple. "I'm going to leave you to the tender mercies of Nurse Gabby then." He started toward the door of the apartment with long strides, pausing only long enough to pick up his guitar case. "I'm sure I can find some trouble to get into."

"But," Gabby began, only to be interrupted by the patient in question.

"Let him go, Gabbs," Jon ordered softly, "he's got itchy fingers."

From the front door of the penthouse, Richie called back, "Call me if you need me, but don't wait up."

The door slammed, and Gabby looked down at Jon. "Itchy fingers?"

"Yeah, he's dying to get his hands on a guitar and jam with someone," Jon answered softly.

"How do you know?" she asked, smiling.

"Besides the fact that I know him better than anyone?" Jon shrugged one shoulder. "Because mine are itching too."

She was standing close enough and he couldn't resist the urge to touch her. The fingers of his left hand tangled with hers. He gently swung their joined hands back and forth until her eyes met his.

"I'm sorry I shot you," she blurted out. "But I knew if he got on that elevator with you..."

He interrupted her again. "We both know what would've happened, Gabbs. You saved my life. Thank you."

Taking a deep breath, Gabby nodded. She knew they needed to talk. There were things she wanted to say, questions she wanted to ask.

"Are you gonna use the bracelet to go home?" Jon asked softly.

Gabby could see a whole movie in his eyes, but that was all he would bend enough to say. It was that damn Jersey-tough-guy attitude. "Do you want me to? I'm sure it was Nate's thumb print that will make it work."

He tugged gently on her hand, until she took the hint and climbed into his lap, straddling his hips and careful not to bump his injury.

Strong hands cupped her face. "Don't leave me," he whispered against her lips.

Then he kissed her with every bit of feeling she'd seen in his eyes. Soft as down, but hotter than the fires of Hell, his kiss said everything he hadn't been able to put into words, and made her blood boil and her lips tingle.

Nimble, graceful fingers slipped down his chest slowly unbuttoning his shirt, revealing more tanned toned skin with every inch. "Should we be doing this?" her voice was husky with desire, as she whispered against his lips. "I mean, are you up to it?"

One strong hand guided her right hand down to cup his denim clad cock, it's hardness apparent even through his jeans. "I'll let him speak for himself," he growled, then nipped gently at her fuller bottom lip.

"You know that's not what I meant," she gasped as he moved against her hand. She slipped her left hand down his chest, her fingers leaving a trail of fire behind them, until it joined her other hand at the waist band of his jeans.

Blunt tipped, callused fingers threaded through her hair, holding her still for another kiss, while her fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans until his heavy, silken cock was in her hands.

"Don't leave me," he said again; it sounded less like an order this time and more like an entreaty.

In answer, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and bent to place a kiss right in the center of his chest. Jon was in just as big a hurry to get Gabby's clothes off. As he fumbled with the button and zipper of her jeans, he couldn't keep the words in any longer.

"There's promises I want to make you, vows I'd like to say, but my divorce isn't even final yet," his voice was raspy with desire.

Standing up again, she nodded to acknowledge his words even as she tugged at his jeans, silently asking him to raise his hips.

"Leave them," he growled, "take care of yours."

Greedy eyes burned with deep blue fire devouring every inch she exposed as she peeled her jeans down long legs. His hands went to her hips to make sure her panties took the same path. She steeped out of the small scrap of satin while she pulled her t-shirt off over her head. Jon smiled. He had always appreciated a woman that could multi-task.

Gabby shivered as his hands slipped around her waist, then slithered up her back, tugging and guiding her back to his lap. Once she was back where he wanted her, he kissed the curve of her breasts spilling over the top of her bra, and then with a flick of his fingers the piece of satin and lace fell to the floor and released his prize. He buried his nose in the fragrant valley.

Gabby lowered herself onto his dick. "I love you," she said huskily. There was no way she could keep the words to herself any longer.

"Stay," he growled against one hard nipple, before sucking it into his hot mouth.

Careful of his injury, Gabby moved over him, enjoying the ride even if he hadn't said the words she was hoping for. His one word litany let her know exactly how he felt.

"Stay," he whispered again against her left breast, his hands on her waist guiding her in a downward stroke.

Cupping his cheeks in both of her hands, she looked deep into beautiful sapphire blue eyes. "I'll stay," she whispered against his lips. "There's no way you're getting rid of me now."

Her wet silken folds hugged him tight, and all he wanted to do was lose himself in her, but he knew she wanted to hear the words. "I love you, Gabbs."

Her ride to that point had been slow and easy, but as if his words were all she'd been waiting on, she picked up the pace. First slamming down on him, then with her hands on his strong shoulders for balance, she rose above him again.

Matching her rhythm, Jon moved with her watching her expressive face, enjoying all the things it told him.

Like when she was close to the edge.

That momentary flash of pleasure/pain was what he'd been waiting on. His right hand left her hip and his thumb found her clit. The callused digit on that little nubbin of nerves sent her over.

"Oh, God, Jon," she moaned, arching her back and throwing her head back.

The visual of her pleasure washing over her sent him over the ledge with her.

Moments later, with Gabby melted all over his chest, Jon stroked her hair. "So, you'll be staying then?"

Her soft chuckle was the only answer he needed.