Chapter 27 Smashing Success
TWENTY-SEVEN
SMASHING SUCCESS
Six days later…
Gabe and I sat on the patio outside Binkley’s.
I was having a moment with an amuse-bouche.
Gabe was having another moment (it was far from the first that night) with my bare legs.
Watching him have his moment, I decided to wear dresses and heels more often.
Gabe decided to tear his eyes from my legs in order to lean toward the little table in front of us where the server put a plate of bite-size works of art that started our evening’s culinary extravaganza.
In his move, I caught the black cashmere material of Gabe’s sweater lovingly hugging his shoulder and lat.
I reacted instantly to that visual stimulus.
My condition didn’t improve when he sat back, and I saw the way the dark-gray lightweight wool trousers molded to the muscles of his knee and thigh with such precision, a sculptor could use it to carve his naked thigh to perfection.
Thus, I was having a different kind of moment, and my new moment meant I had to uncross my legs and cross them again.
Doing this, I decided Gabe and I had to have these special nights more often if I got to see him dressed up like that.
It was casual, just a nice crewneck sweater and trousers.
But it packed a punch.
Even as Gabe put the food in his mouth, he caught my leg shift, and his attention dropped to them again.
I did not miss the lazy, heated possession in his gaze as he chewed and swallowed at the same time skated a hand over my shoulder exposed by the sleeveless, high neck, halter-top dress I wore.
He did this so he could claim a lock of hair and curl it around his finger.
At his touch, a slow, but strong tremor crept through my body and detonated in my hoo-ha.
Good God, we were in danger of having spontaneous sex on the patio of Binkley’s.
Maybe we shouldn’t have more special date nights.
“This isn’t working,” I declared.
Gabe’s eyes moved from my legs to mine.
Yep.
That lazy, heated possession was still there.
And yep.
I felt that in my hoo-ha too.
Gah!
“What’s not working?” his deep rumble rolled toward me, relaxed, content, and a repeat of the yep, hearing it, I wanted to pounce on him.
“I’m not sure we can get through this three-hour meal without having a quickie in the bathroom,” I said under my breath.
Slowly, a cocky, devilish smile curved his mouth.
I watched it, never having seen it before, instantly enamored with it, and snapped, “You’re not helping.”
“Sometimes, waiting is good,” he said.
“When?” I asked. “When, oh Sage One, is waiting ever good?”
“Christmas morning wouldn’t be Christmas morning if every morning was Christmas morning,” my wise, well-educated, possibly genius boyfriend replied. “It’s Christmas morning because you have to wait a whole year for it.”
“Well then,”—sadly but perhaps opportunely losing his fingers in my hair, I bent forward to grab my next work of art in order to consume it— “shall we see if that’s correct and wait a year to have sex again?”
“No,” he said, his voice vibrating with manly humor, possibly because he thought I was funny, possibly because he knew no way in hell could I wait a year to get his cock inside me again.
I sat back, popped the morsel in my mouth, allowed the tour de force of flavors to explode on my tongue while chewing, and I swallowed.
Then I decreed, “You need to be less hot.”
He chuckled richly (so, so loved that sound) and recaptured a lock of my hair.
“You’re not being less hot, Gabriel Stark,” I warned.
“Not sure I can dial that down, cupcake,” he returned. “Any more than you can dial down the gorgeous. You don’t hear me complaining about that dress and how you did your hair tonight.”
I didn’t miss his look of naked lust when I’d walked out of my bedroom earlier, all ready to go out on our special date.
It was a million times better than any whistle Kevin had given me.
I knew Kevin was into me. In his warped way, he maybe even loved me.
But let me tell you, the difference was significant, having a handsome, confident man take you in after you’d made an effort, and not say a word, but still communicate eloquently how much he appreciated it.
Inwardly preening at this memory, I took a sip of my cocktail and watched as my man’s gaze drifted to the fire in the outdoor fireplace.
And studying his profile, I took a velvet blow to the belly as his mood dawned on me.
He was chill.
He was in a good headspace.
He was with his woman.
He was doing something new and out of the ordinary.
He was happy.
My Gabe was happy.
I made my Gabe happy.
“Baby,” I called.
Those blue, blue eyes came to me.
And I was chill.
I was in a good headspace.
I was with my man.
I was doing something I’d wanted to do for ages.
I was happy.
He made me happy.
My Gabe made me happy.
So…very…happy.
“So, what’s next?” I asked.
“Say again?”
“In our life’s adventure,” I explained, then threw out an idea. “I’ve always wanted to learn pottery.”
He laughed softly, let my hair go and grabbed the last nugget o’ pure brilliance.
After he ate it, he said, “Not sure about pottery, babe. Though, you can do that and then we can reenact that scene from Ghost.”
This idea held merit.
I mentally jotted it down for future consideration.
“Photography?” I suggested.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Paddle boarding?”
His head ticked. “You haven’t paddle boarded?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s getting cold for that, Will,” he noted. “But we can slot that on our agenda for next summer.”
Next summer.
We’d be together and do that next summer.
And he called me “Will.”
That was the first time he’d done that.
I only allowed the people I loved most in the world to call me Will.
So, obviously, I didn’t correct him.
“And I haven’t been to Europe,” I shared. “Except for Mom and I taking what we called a once in a lifetime trip to Vancouver, I’ve never been out of the country.”
His head ticked at that too and he leaned deeper into me.
I smelled his clean, spicy aroma and sighed a contented sigh.
“We gotta rectify that,” he stated.
“Things have been so crazy, I want to go to a beach first.”
“Caribbean,” he decided. “We’ll have a look. I’ve only been to Aruba, and it was fantastic, but I’ve wanted to go to Puerto Rico for a while.”
“Oo, I like the sound of Puerto Rico.”
He grinned.
We planned.
They called us into the dining room to continue our culinary extravaganza.
And I found I could get all the way down with doing new things, splurging on new experiences, and finding the time to scratch those itches that always niggled at you.
Because I was worth it.
And Gabe was worth it.
And it was worth it.
But mostly, life was too damned short not to live it.
* * *
We were different that night in bed.
Gabe made us that way.
I liked it hard. I liked Gabe to take control. I liked to veer into nasty territory and even jump that line (frequently).
And Gabe liked all of that too.
But tonight was about soft touches. Gentle caresses. Going slow. Stoking the fire.
And now, with Gabe moving inside me, the fingers on both of his hands were laced through mine, held above my head and pressed into the pillow. He watched my face as I took his cock. He felt my legs tighten around him with each stroke, my fingers clenching his. He listened to my quiet whimpers.
And so, he didn’t miss it when the love bloomed in my eyes.
“Yeah,” he whispered, and I would have burst into tears at what I knew was not an acknowledgement, but a reciprocation, if Gabe didn’t let one of my hands go, slip his between us and home in on my clit, just as he kissed me.
And seconds later, after he switched up that miracle move, adding a heady nuance that worked splendidly, his mouth absorbed my moans as he made me come.
It took a little more effort for him to get there, but we made it in the end, and it was spectacular.
Cuddling after was silent and mellow and easy and wonderful.
When Gabe felt me slipping into dreamland, he got up and took care of business.
But as ever, I was back in his arms the instant he returned to bed.
“Great night,” I whispered.
“Abso-fuckin’-lutely,” he replied.
“That new thing you did…nice,” I told him.
“I got a few variations, babe, so strap in,” he told me.
Awesome!
We fell silent.
This lasted a spell.
I broke it by saying softly, “Thank you, baby.”
To that I received a gentle, “You’re welcome, cupcake.”
I smiled in the dark and shortly after fell asleep tangled up in my guy.
And the first Gabe and Willow Special Night was a resounding success.
* * *
The next day…
I stopped after completing my assigned-by-Annette chore of collecting all the empty tubs that had had plants in them so I could put them in the recycle area.
This done, I wiped the sweat off my brow and gazed around Tex and Nancy’s back yard.
It was swarming with men, women and kids.
Oh yeah.
Tex had gone down.
Hard.
This started that morning when we all showed, truck beds and trunks loaded down with plants, trees, bags of garden soil and compost, pavers, some decorative rock and all the makings of a drip system.
We’d barely parked before Tex stormed out of the house to put a stop to it, but since “we all” included our aces in the hole—Nancy’s daughters, Jet and Lottie, along with their men, Eddie and Mo, and all their kids—Tex received the first blow to his mulishness.
The second came moments later when Nancy rushed out and cried, “Oh my goodness! Is it yard day? I’ve been so excited since Roxie emailed me the designs! It’s going to be so beautiful!” She then threw out her arms and screeched, “And look! Grandbabies!”
This was when her grandchildren rushed her (and then Tex), followed by her daughters doing it, and her sons-in-law coming up the rear.
Nancy was in seventh heaven.
So, yeah.
There you had it.
Tex was stymied.
And after he gave his gruff love to his family, the scowl he aimed at the rest of us was ferocious.
But his mouth stayed shut.