Chapter Twenty-One
THE FIRST HINTS of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden light over the tangled sheets. My body felt heavy with satisfaction, every muscle relaxed from the wild night Gatsby and I had shared. We'd collapsed into each other's arms, clinging to each other, breathless and spent.
Sleep had come easily, wrapped in his strong embrace, the scent of our lovemaking still lingering on our skin.
Now, as consciousness slowly pulled me from dreams, I became aware of a gentle warmth tracing lazy patterns along my side.
Gatsby's hand, large and calloused in the best way, caressed my soft skin, starting from my hip and gliding up to the curve of my breast.
A shiver ran through me, not from cold, but from the spark of renewed desire his touch ignited. I kept my eyes closed, savoring the sensation, my body instinctively arching toward him. His fingers were tender, exploring as if rediscovering every inch of me in the quiet morning.
“Mmm, good morning,” I murmured, my voice husky with sleep, finally opening my eyes to meet his.
Gatsby's dark hair was tousled, his muscular frame propped on one elbow, that gentle yet dominant smile playing on his lips. His gaze was intense, full of the same passion that had consumed us hours ago, but now tempered with something slower, more deliberate.
“Morning, beautiful,” he replied, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill straight to my core.
He leaned in, his lips brushing mine in a soft kiss that deepened gradually, his tongue teasing the seam of my mouth until I parted for him.
But he didn't rush; instead, he pulled back to trail his mouth down my neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin just below my ear.
The suction was light, almost reverent, but it made my pulse quicken, heat pooling between my thighs.
I tilted my head back, giving him better access, a soft sigh escaping me as his teeth grazed my collarbone. His hand continued its path, cupping my breast fully now, thumb circling my nipple until it pebbled under his touch.
“Gatsby,” I breathed, my fingers threading into his hair, holding him close.
He hummed against my skin, the vibration traveling down my spine, awakening every nerve.
His lips moved lower, capturing my nipple in his warm mouth.
He sucked gently at first, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak, then grazed it with his teeth, just enough to make me gasp and arch my back.
Pleasure shot through me, sharp and sweet, my pussy clenching with need.
“I want to take my time with you this morning,” he said, his tone commanding yet tender, holding my gaze.
“Take all the time you want,” I murmured, already lost in his touch.
And he did.
It was hours later before we finally fell back to sleep completely exhausted.
***
I slept longer than I meant to, deeper than I expected to after everything, the kind of sleep that pulled me under completely, and when I finally started to come back up, it was slow, like I had to fight my way through layers of it, my breathing shifting before my eyes even opened as softer light filtered through the room in a way that didn’t match the night we’d just had.
For a moment, I didn’t move, didn’t think, just lay there breathing, until I felt it, the quiet awareness of him nearby, not touching me, not crowding, just there, steady enough that it grounded me before I even fully woke.
“Hey,” he said, quiet enough not to startle me, just enough to anchor me as my eyes opened.
Everything came back all at once, the night, the fear, the way it ended, and the fact that he was still here, and when my gaze found him, something in my chest shifted in a way that I’ve never experienced before.
“You’re still here,” I said, my voice rough from sleep, softer than I meant it to be.
“Yeah,” he answered easily, like it had never been in question. “Nothing could get me out of your bed.”
I held his gaze longer than I probably should have, wanting so much to be free to love him.
He pushed up from the bed after that, not rushing but not lingering either, running a hand over the back of his neck as he stood, his eyes moving around the room in that way he had, like he was always checking, always aware, before settling back on me.
“I gotta get to the bar,” he said, already shifting into something more practical even if part of him still felt like it was here. “Chain’ll have my ass if I don’t show for inventory.”
A small breath left me at that, something almost like a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth before it faded again, not quite strong enough to stay. “Right.”
I pushed myself up slowly, the blanket slipping down a little as I did, and something in me hesitated, not physically, but mentally, like my thoughts lagged behind my body, trying to catch up to everything that had changed overnight.
He stepped closer then, stopping just in front of me, and I went still without meaning to as his hand came up, brushing a piece of hair back from my face, the touch light but deliberate enough that it made my breath catch anyway.
“You good?” he asked, quieter now, not pushing, but not letting it go either.
I nodded too quickly. “Yeah.”
His eyes stayed on mine a second longer than necessary, like he didn’t fully believe it, like he was waiting to see if I’d say more, and when I didn’t, he let it go for now, his hand dropping back to his side as he shifted just enough to give me space, but not enough to feel like he was walking away.
“I’ll be at High Voltage tonight,” he said, like it was already decided. “Stop by and we can do something after.”
My eyes lifted back to his, something in me settling just a little at that, like it gave me something solid to hold onto. “Okay.”
He held my gaze a second longer, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped slightly, more deliberate now. “We can talk about what scared you last night.”
It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t really a request either, it sat somewhere in between, something that carried more weight than just meeting up later, and I hesitated for a second because there was still so much I hadn’t said, so much I didn’t understand yet about what this was and what he was asking without saying it outright.
“It was nothing,” I said.
He didn’t believe me, even if it didn’t show much, and he stepped back after that, turning to grab his things without dragging it out, and something in my chest tightened at the movement, because I already knew if he stayed longer, I wouldn’t want him to leave at all, and that felt like something I needed to be careful with.
“I hate running out like this,” he said, leaning down to kiss me. “But I’ll make up for it tonight.” He moved toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at me, his eyes taking me in in a way that made it feel like he was committing it to memory.
“Lock up after me,” he said, his tone shifting, more serious now.
My brows pulled together slightly, but I nodded. “I will.”
He held my gaze one last second before stepping out, the door closing behind him with a solid click that echoed louder than it should have, leaving the house quiet again. I stayed where I was for a moment, staring at the door.
“I love you,” I whispered to the empty room.
***
I SHOULDN’T HAVE been meeting him again, and I knew it, because the logical part of me kept insisting I needed to back away, to put space between us before things went too far, but the part of me that mattered more, the part that had been chasing that feeling since last night, didn’t care about logic at all, only wanted him, wanted whatever this was to keep going, even after I’d admitted to myself that morning that I loved him, a truth that only made what I was doing feel worse, more dishonest, like I was digging myself into something I wouldn’t be able to climb out of.
And still… here I was.
Gatsby stood behind the bar when I walked in, moving the way he always did, easy, controlled, like nothing ever really got under his skin, and the second he saw me, something shifted in his expression, softening into something deeper, something that hit too close to the kind of look you only ever saw in those old movies we both clung to.
“Told you you’d make it,” he said as I slid onto the stool, his hand coming up to brush along my cheek as he leaned in.
“I missed you,” I breathed against his lips before I could stop myself, the words slipping out too honest, too real to take back.
Ruby was already moving behind the bar, tray balanced in her hand, but instead of the quick smile or easy comment she always threw my way, her attention stayed locked on the window, her focus too cutting, too fixed, like she was holding herself in place by force alone, and that alone was enough to set something off in my chest, because Ruby always made time for me, unless something else had her attention.
“Ruby,” I said low when she passed close enough.
She didn’t look at me right away, her grip tightening almost imperceptibly around the edge of the tray before she said, “I just can’t believe it.”
There was something wrong in her voice, something tight and fraying at the edges, and I felt it immediately.
I leaned in, lowering my voice. “What’s wrong?”
Her jaw flexed, the movement small but controlled, like she was forcing herself not to say more than she should. “I won’t lose him.”
“Ruby,” I murmured, a quiet warning threading through my tone now. “What are you talking about?”
Her eyes snapped to mine then, too fast, too sharp, something raw flashing there before she tried to bury it, but it didn’t go away completely, it lingered underneath, dark and ugly and too close to the surface.
“I won’t,” she repeated, quieter this time, but somehow worse.
I should’ve pushed, should’ve made her explain, but something in the way she said it stopped me, my attention dragging instead toward the door, and the second I saw them, everything else fell into place.
Mystic. And Zeynep.