14
After our fun, Cormac left for training at the Olympic pool, while Blake said he had some work to do, whatever that means. I was left alone in Gabe’s house again, without Gabe. Before heading to bed, I checked the locks on all the doors and windows, tried Gabe’s door to find it locked, and stumbled into bed. Exhausted after being railed by Blake, a soft bed to climb into and a pillow to caress my head are the only things I want now.
It’s odd that even though I am alone in a man’s house, a man I know only professionally, I feel safe. I should be on edge and afraid that the police will catch up with me, but weirdly, my body relaxes into the mattress, and sleep comes quickly.
A nightmare invades my dream state of Gavin rising from the dead to hunt me down and slash my throat, and I wake drenched in sweat, clutching at my throat. It’s so dark on this side of the house that faces out onto the lake as there are no street lamps to pollute the night, but I have an enormous sense that I’m not alone. The house creaks and groans, and the distant sounds of the choppy waves from the lake only add to that. It’s a relatively modern house, so it’s far too young to be haunted. Or maybe it doesn’t work that way.
My phone reads 2.09 AM, and I assume Gabe is home since it’s so late. My bladder lurches full from drinking two glasses of water after sex for urinary health, but I need to use the bathroom, like, now .
It isn’t until I’m upright and walking that I realize that I’m busting and will pee myself if I don’t get to a toilet ASAP. I dart across the hall, shut and lock the door behind me, flick the light on, and strip my panties down to my knees. The house continues to creak and groan as I sit on the toilet seat doing my business, and the gutter outside the bathroom window rattles even though it’s not windy.
“Poorly built house on the side of a hill,” I mumble, explaining why this place makes so much noise. “Weak foundations. Probably slide down the cliff into the lake on a stormy day.”
A shiver runs down my spine when I return to the hallway after flushing and washing my hands. If there’s anyone in the house, they likely heard the toilet flushing unless they were deeply asleep. A scraping down from downstairs urges me to grab my Glock, inspect the living rooms and kitchen, and recheck the locks.
Checking that the gun is loaded, I pull on my shorts over my panties and a sweatshirt over my T-shirt, then precariously step out of my room. Naturally, my eye roams to the door at the end of the hall, and I imagine Gabe fast asleep behind it, even though I didn’t hear him come home. Then, I make my way down the stairs.
Flicking the light on as I step into the living area, I breathe in relief to find it empty of life. I don’t mind the boys being here, obviously because they live here, but I was envisioning police or hitmen sent by the two men left on my list. Both of these men are dangerous as fuck, so the next stage in my plan has to be extra careful and intricately thought out.
The kitchen and downstairs bathroom are clear, and I peer out the window to find Gabe’s car is not up the drive, so I’ve spent the night alone in the house. Even though I’m good at acting tough and independent, I’d prefer it if at least one of the boys stayed over.
Satisfied that the house is empty of life, I flick the lights off, steeping the rooms in the dark, and run back up the stairs. When I turn, I see Gabe’s door at the end of the hall, and curiosity is a magnet pulling me closer.
Even though he’s not home, I press my ear against the door, listening for breath, snoring, or anything indicating that someone is there. I didn't hear him if he’d been home at night, but I tried the door handle anyway, knowing I already tried it before bed.
To my surprise, it’s unlocked now, which means he has been home. My heart thuds against my ribcage, knowing that I’m doing something that I shouldn’t, yet if he is in the room, I’ll apologize and leave.
Slowly, I push the door open a crack, peer into the darkened room, and inhale the scent of his cologne. The drapes are wide open, letting the moonlight carpet the space with a soft white glow. The bed is flat, with no bodies lying beneath the covers, but I’m intrigued about why he locks it. It could be as simple as not wanting a stray blond girl snooping in his stuff, or he has something in here that needs to be locked away for safety or secrecy.
From this angle, I can see a large bed and a set of drawers, so I push the door wider and let myself in. He has access to firearms as a detective, so maybe he stores them here. That’s a good enough reason than any to lock up his bedroom.
Like the rest of the house, it’s tidy, empty, and lacking in a female touch. There’s no women’s perfume or lingerie draped over the bed or anything else to indicate that he sometimes has a lover. I tried the closet door, surprised that it opened, and ran my hand along the cotton shirts hanging from the rail. It’s too dark to see much without switching a light, and because the drapes are open, I worry someone is watching from outside.
I sit on the edge of the bed, sinking into a mattress softer than mine, and I lie back on the bed, running my hands along the bed cover and drinking in his scent. But I want more. I want to experience Gabe sensually, feel his muscles contract against my skin, let those experienced hands work me, lips and tongue torture me.
On hands and knees, I crawl to the top of the bed and lay my head on his pillow, swathing in residuals of Gabe. I pull back the covers and crawl inside, nestling down into his sheet, cocooned in his scent, imagining his body pressed against mine.
Yeah, I’m losing the plot a little and becoming a psycho obsessive crazy. “I’ll stay for a few minutes,” I promise myself, closing my eyes, enveloped in soft, fluffy clouds, and sighing as I relax deeper into a delicious trance.
***
Birds singing outside and a tinkling sound urge me to open my eyes. Someone is standing at the end of the bed, taking his belt off, narrowed eyes watching me curiously as he does.
“Sleep well?” he asks smoothly.
I bolt upright in horror, realizing I’m still in Gabe’s bed, and he’s returned home. “I’m so sorry. Your door was open. No, that’s no excuse. I’m really sorry, Gabe. I shouldn’t have snooped.”
He pulls his shirt tucked into his black pants and unbuttons it. “You can do whatever you like, Rae, but after a double shift with far too much evil for a single lifetime, I need to sleep it off. You’re welcome to stay.”
“Sleep?” I jab as if it were a foreign word I’ve never heard before because I’m horrified at my stupidity.
“Yeah, sleep. You know that thing you do when you’re not awake,” he croons, and I wonder if I should laugh. Was that a joke? A Dad joke? Actually, he doesn’t seem like he’s joking. He seems determined to strip off his clothes before me and climb inside this bed to…sleep, I guess.
“What is the time?” I enquire, realizing I had left my phone in my room, so I have no idea.
Luckily, Gabe is here and reaches for his phone on the set of drawers. “Eight forty-eight,” he replies.
“In the morning?” I ask perplexed. Where the heck is my head?
“Yeah, it’s light outside-”
“Oh my god,” I throw back the covers, and in a hurry, I climb out, rushing to the door. “I’ve got a shift at work. I’ll be late.”
Running down the hall to my room, I glance back to find him watching me from his doorway with amusement and desire. I swallow back my hunger to run into his arms. No. He needs to sleep, and I need to get to work.
“Bye,” he says quietly as I vanish into my room, trying to calm my stupid heart.
I can’t dwell on how embarrassed I am or that I may have ruined his trust in me to be left alone in his house again. His opinion of me likely scoured substantially after he saw me being railed by Blake over his kitchen table anyway, so he might have low expectations.
As I rush to dress and slather deodorant all over myself since I don’t have time for a shower, all I can think about is how I can make it up to him. Is there anything I can do to improve his opinion of me?
When I leave, his door is shut, and I suppress the urge to press my ear against the wood to listen to his breath. At the foot of the stairs, his door opens, and he calls my name.
I swallow back my nerves and embarrassment, hoping my cheeks don’t burn to give me away.
“Dinner tonight?” he says, opening the door wider, allowing me to see that he’s wearing boxers and a grey T-shirt.
“Um, sure,” I answer, confused but elated. Is this a date? Is he asking me out on a date? I open my mouth to ask, ‘formal or informal?’ when he adds…
“Six PM. Downstairs. We need to have a meeting,” he informs me, and my heart sinks.
“Okay, sure,” my voice croaks from embarrassment. “Um, what is the meeting about?”
“You’ll see,” he replies, gazing and pointing to my bag over my shoulder. “Anyway, you need to get to work, and I need to sleep.”
“Of course,” I stumble about making a dick out of myself before running down the stairs to retrieve a glass of water to throw over my stupid face.