Chapter 12
ELIJAH
“Elijah, love. Are you still awake?”
I look up from my cell as the bedroom door swings open and my husband walks in. As usual, he looks scrumptious in his sleepwear. Tousled shoulder-length hair, bare chested, loose hunter-green shorts grazing his hips, drawstrings dangling over a beautiful, thick bulge.
My dick immediately plumps up. It’s been such a normal reaction for so long, I’m not even fazed by it anymore.
“Boundaries, Gabriel.” I scowl at him. “We need to set some boundaries.”
“Oh pleeease, Elijah. We’ve never set boundaries before.”
Those stormy gray eyes are bursting with trouble. But it’s all good. Gabriel doesn’t have a bad bone in his body, although he does have a provocative one, and he’s quick to pounce when the opportunity arises.
I glance back down at my phone, where the text I sent Alex still remains unread.
Why isn’t he responding? We had such an amazing night together.
We laughed, flirted, and swapped stories about our careers and our daughters, all while enjoying two bottles of pinot noir with our dinner.
It was the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.
The only mishap was when I reached across the table to hold his hand.
He just about choked on his wine. Obviously, he was uncomfortable with my show of affection in public.
I look back up at Gabriel.
“I’m happy to see you are still awake, mi amor.” His tongue grazes across his lips as he takes a seat on the corner of the bed, making himself right at home.
Actually… this is his home.
Gabriel’s fingers curl around my ankle, and his tender touch warms my heart, jarring my wine-soaked brain.
“Mi amor?” he chants as I collect my scattered thoughts—his deep voice wrapping around my fragile heart.
I miss him.
Setting aside my texting for a moment, I drop the phone into my lap and pull the sheet further over my waist. “I was actually out at dinner tonight and just got home about half an hour ago.” I yawn out my words, hoping he takes the hint. I’m not tired. Just want to be left alone.
“Ahh... okay.” He smirks. “You were out with the American model, sí?”
“Cut the shit, Gabriel. You know damn well I was with Alex.”
“Ah sí, Alex… Alex,” he repeats his name, as if he needed a reminder. “He is quite popular in Spain as well. Very sexy, too, I might add.”
Speaking of sexy… when Gabriel speaks English, it’s fucking hot. His words are orgasmic, or at least to my ears they are. His accent is slightly thicker than mine. There’s a stronger, more fluid roll of his tongue.
Christ, that tongue.
“Elijah, mi amor…” He reverts to Spanish.
“Gabriel, please. I’m tired. Is there something you wanted?” I pick up my cell and check one more time for a reply from Alex.
Still nothing.
Gabriel launches into rapid Spanish, casually informing me that he heard from Alex—who’s agreed to let Emilee go to Spain. They’ll be leaving in two weeks.
He finishes with, “… a very nice conversation.”
That grabs my attention. “He called you already?”
The surprise in my voice has Gabriel looking at me strangely. I literally just gave Alex his number over dinner tonight. I hadn’t expected him to call so soon.
Now mildly irritated, I fake another yawn, hoping it will mask the itching crawling up my spine to text Alex and figure out what is going on.
“Well, I’m glad you got to speak with him,” I say, forcing a smile. “But, Gabriel—”
“I know. I know. Relax, mi amor.”
He brushes his thumb across my ankle, causing the coarse hair on my leg to lift, and when he gives my ankle a light squeeze, I feel it all the way to my heart.
“I’m heading back to bed,” he says. “You treat your American model well, sí?”
God, this man. My chest swells with so much love, so much adoration, so much... everything. Gabriel means everything to me.
“Of course,” I manage, snapping myself out of my fucked-up thoughts. “I most certainly will.”
“Muy bien, Elijah.”
Those stormy eyes hover over my body, and he makes no attempt at leaving. His soft touch wreaks havoc over my heart as his thumb drags lazily across the hair on my leg. It feels nice, soothing… fucking intimate. It wrecks me in ways he doesn’t even notice.
“What happened to us, Gabriel?”
I hate that my voice is gravelly. Hate that I gave in to the pull of him again. Hate that I went ahead and asked that question. Again. For the thousandth time.
I sound weak. Pathetic. And I’m neither one of those.
But when it comes to him, I just…
He drops his chin, causing layers of silky waves to fall across his too-handsome face.
Without thinking, I reach up and tuck a few strands behind his ear.
The feel of those silky waves sliding through my fingers every time we fucked flashes through my mind. Or how he used to fall asleep with all that gorgeous hair fanned out across my bare chest.
God, I miss that.
Miss the way I used to touch him—run my fingers through his hair, grab fistfuls of it at the back of his neck, and bunch it up on top while he bobbed on my cock.
Fuck. I need to stop thinking like this.
But there’s something he wants to say, and I can’t let this go. I can see the battle raging behind those eyes. Hell, I can feel it.
“Jesus, Gabriel, just talk to me.”
His fingers do what mine so desperately miss—they slide through his hair, pushing thick waves away from his gorgeous face.
He meets my gaze, and I hold it, waiting. Waiting for an answer I already know won’t come. It never does.
I get silence.
Every time.
This time is no different.
“Good night, Elijah.”
I slam my eyes shut as he releases the hold on my leg. I’m frustrated and emotionally drained.
Why do I keep allowing this to happen? He hasn’t come back to me yet. Hasn’t even given me any indication that he will. And he sure as hell hasn’t explained why he left in the first place.
I’m done. So done.
I’m moving on with Alex.
“Damn you, Gabriel.”
I roll over, hugging the phone to my chest, succumbing to the sound of… silence.