Chapter 57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Cleo
On Saturday morning Annika called while I was rummaging around in Gabriel’s kitchen cupboards.
It was already eleven thirty and I was just getting around to breakfast.
I was off to a late start this morning, thanks to the sudden inspiration that seemingly struck Gabriel at two in the morning when I was forced to listen to the same chords over and over and his muttered curses that seeped through the floorboards.
The pacing. The guitar strumming. The cigarette smoke.
It was like sleeping above a nightclub. How could one guitar produce so much sound?
I could have banged on the floor or gone downstairs and asked him to stop, but he had an album to write so I let him get on with it.
Finally, around four in the morning, I heard his footsteps on the stairs and then his bedroom door quietly closing behind him.
At that point, he might as well have just slammed the door because I was wide awake and fantasizing about crawling into his bed and us fucking like rock stars until the sun rose.
Ugh. Why did I keep thinking about sex?
I suspected it was due to my self-inflicted ban on sex. The equivalent of Annika’s no-sugar diet and subsequent fall from grace when she inhaled an unhealthy number of cupcakes in one sitting.
Forbidden fruit was always the most tempting.
“Find anything interesting?” Annika asked.
“Four open boxes of Pop-Tarts, Lucky Charms, and Cocoa Puffs. What is he, twelve?” I put a Pop-Tart in the toaster and went through his junk drawer while my coffee brewed.
I found a baggie of weed, rolling papers, an assortment of pens and lighters, two corkscrews, superglue, and a strip of… condoms?
“Oh my god, he has condoms,” I shrieked then glanced around to ensure that he wasn’t within earshot. I had no idea where he was.
“At least he’s practicing safe sex. You don’t want any nasty surprises.”
I threw the condoms back into the drawer and slammed it shut like it was filled with venomous snakes.
“Speaking of which, have you had any hot sex?”
“No,” I said flatly. I was still unnerved by those condoms. It was obvious that he hadn’t been living like a monk during our separation.
The other night, I was coming out of the upstairs bathroom when he walked past with a gigantic bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. “ Since we’re not sharing a bed ,” he said.
I almost regretted giving him that notebook, but my mind kept reverting to what he said on Tuesday night. I think I was the luckiest man in the world.
“Our relationship was never solely based on sex,” I said, carrying my breakfast out to the deck. The sky was cloudy, but the sun was burning through. “It’s all the rest of the stuff we have to figure out.”
“Yeah, okay,” Annika said. “But if I were staying with my ex in his beach house, you can bet your ass I’d be sleeping in his bed. Sex with your ex is a thing, you know.”
Otis ran onto the deck to greet me. He held up his paw and I gave him a high five, a cute little trick Gabriel taught him.
I gave him a good rub behind the ears and when he trotted away, I tracked him with my eyes.
Wherever Otis went, Gabriel was bound to be.
Otis disappeared behind the tall bushes that obstructed my view of the swimming pool. Mystery solved.
“If you love the guy, what are you even trying to figure out?”
Valid question. What was I trying to figure out?
“I just need to know that I can trust him.” I finished the last bite of my Pop-Tart and brushed the crumbs off my tank top then rinsed my mug in the sink.
“Do you think he has another wife and some kids stashed away? Maybe he’s a secret assassin.” She chortled. “Can you imagine? Make sure you check the garage and the basement for ammunition and passports with secret identities. You can never be too safe!”
I snorted. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Let me know if you find anything incriminating,” she shouted as I cut the call and pocketed my phone.
My feet carried me to the swimming pool when I should have headed directly to the studio to make up for this morning’s late start and yesterday’s impromptu ride on the back of Gabriel’s motorcycle in which I was forced to hold on tight, so I wouldn’t end up in a ditch on the side of the road.
We went for lobster rolls and ate on the docks, fending off the seagulls. Afterward, Gabriel took me to the lighthouse and told me that when he went there for New Year’s Eve two years ago, Buddhist monks showed up in saffron robes banging drums.
He said it was magical.
After our outing, I made it back to the house unscathed but slightly shaken by just how much I’d missed him.
But unlike Gabriel, I worked better in the light of day and since we were both working on tight deadlines, I needed to focus. On my art. Not on my favorite ex swimming underwater.
Keep walking. Get to work.
I kicked off my flip-flops and sat on the edge of the pool with my legs dangling in the water. I watched him swimming across the bottom of the pool and tried to hold my breath for the entire time he stayed under but lost the fight long before his head emerged.
By my count, he’d done two and a half laps.
“How do you smoke so many cigarettes and still hold your breath underwater for so long?” I asked when he finally came up for air.
His back was to me at the opposite side of the pool, but something caught my eye. Gabriel turned before I could make out if it was a tattoo on his lower back or just a trick of the light.
I kicked my foot and splashed his face as he swam toward me.
That’s for having condoms in your drawer.
I splashed him again.
That’s for keeping me up last night.
Another splash.
That’s for making me want you again when only a month ago I was over you.
He grabbed my calf and wrapped his hand around it.
“It’s good for breath control,” he said, his voice low and husky, his hand still wrapped around my calf like he had no intention of ever letting go.
I’ll bet.
I assumed he was talking about singing, but I was distracted by the heat of his touch. It spread through my body like a wildfire.
My stomach fluttered like there were butterflies trapped inside, beating their wings to break free.
When he released my calf and pushed off the wall, treading water in the middle of the deep end, I pulled my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees.
Water spiked his long lashes, and his dark hair was slicked back. He looked like a bronzed god with the face of a romantic poet, but I refused to be so easily swayed by his good looks or his sculpted muscles.
“So what’s your new song about?” My brows arched. “It had better be worth all the sleep I lost.”
He grimaced. “Shit, sorry. I’ve gotten so used to living alone…” His voice trailed off and he bit his lip then cleared his throat. “Won’t happen again. So, what are you up to today? How about we?—"
I cut him off before he threw out a tempting offer that would distract me. “I have to do some work.” I stood then remembered the tattoo and made a circular motion with my hand. “Turn around. I need to see something.”
He gave me a mischievous grin. “Do you think the view is better from the back? Or are you looking for something in particular?”
“Can you just get out of the water real quick so I can see it?” I flashed him a smile. “Pretty please.”
He tilted his head. “Why? Do you want to inspect the artwork?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Just let me see it.”
“You really want to see this tattoo, don’t you? What will I get in exchange?”
“I’m not bargaining with you.” My eyes narrowed on him. “I need to verify if you’re an art thief.”
With a laugh, he started doing the backstroke away from me. “If you want to see it, you’ll have to dive into the pool, Baby Blue.”
Baby Blue?
I glared at him, but he was already at the opposite end of the pool and my glare didn’t carry a lot of weight from this distance. So I rounded the pool, but as soon as I got close, he turned and did the backstroke in the other direction.
“Har-har-har,” I said.
“Har-har-har,” he responded.
Forget it. I wasn’t going to play these childish games. I was just going to march right past and continue on my merry way. Until he gripped the edge of the pool as if he was about to get out before ducking under the water again.
What a tease.
But I’d caught a small glimpse, enough to further pique my curiosity.
“The water is so cool and refreshing. You don’t know what you’re missing,” he called from the middle of the pool where he was floating on his back with his eyes closed.
Tempting. I debated for a few seconds. It was hot and muggy, and the water did look refreshing.
I stripped down to my faded orange bikini, tossed my clothes aside and took a running leap. I was aiming for the center of his chest, on a mission to sink him like a battleship, but missed by a mile.
He immediately spun around and changed tactics, wading backward into the shallow end before propping his elbows on the wall behind him and giving me a sexy, come-hither smile punctuated by a wink. “Curiosity got the black cat. Look at that. She chases.”
“Only when the mouse plays juvenile games.”
“Who are you calling a mouse?” He looked at me through hooded eyes and swiped his tongue over his lips. “I want to lick the beads of water off your chest. Untie your bikini with my teeth.” His lip curled in that sexy way he had, like Billy Idol circa 1980s.
My nipples strained against the fabric. God. I was so easily turned on it was embarrassing.
That lip curl was nearly my undoing. Nearly .
“Interesting,” I said, my voice breathier than I would have preferred. I inspected my indigo nails. “Because all I want is to see your tattoo.”
“Well, come a little closer, kitty.” He beckoned me with his hand. “I don’t bite. Much.” He grinned, baring his teeth.
Just my luck. Sexy, playful Gabriel had come out to play.
Instead of jumping to do his bidding, I floated on my back with my eyes on the puffy white clouds, like I was just chilling and not at all interested in him. Or his tattoo.
I was regressing. Acting like a teenager.
Maybe I was wrong. It was highly improbable, very nearly impossible that he would have that tattooed on his back. But I was pretty sure he did.
Where had he even gotten it? I drew that design years ago and hadn’t seen it since.
After a few more seconds of floating on my back, I lunged at him and grabbed his shoulders, trying to catch him by surprise. “Show. Me.”
In hindsight, that was a grave error. His reflexes were back to being lightning-quick. He gripped the backs of my thighs and literally swept me off my feet. My hands gained purchase on his shoulders and my legs wrapped around his waist to keep myself upright.
“You’re not funny,” I said when he laughed.
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
No, I guess he wasn’t. I felt his erection pressing against my stomach and whenever I tried to pull away, I found that I couldn’t. Not because he was holding me hostage, but because I couldn’t get my brain to send the right signals to my body.
Let go of him. Swim away, you fool.
Instead, I pressed my palms on his shoulders and levered myself up so I could look over his shoulder.
My boobs were practically in his face. The bottom of the design dipped under the waistband of his board shorts, but I confirmed that it was the teardrop mandala tattooed on his lower back. And it was my design.
I slid back down his chest, so we were eye level and wound my arms around his neck.
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice strained, his fingers digging into my thighs.
“Where did you get it?” I whispered.
His dark eyes studied my face for a few beats.
Our eyes locked and held and I forgot the question. Forgot everything.
A bead of water trickled down his cheekbone and I traced it with my fingertip right to the corner of his mouth.
“Cleo,” he whispered, his eyes drifting shut, long lashes resting in the hollows. “Cleo. Cleo. Cleo. Kiss me.”
He sounded like he would die if I didn’t. I felt like I might die if I didn’t. And now I couldn’t think of one single good reason why we shouldn’t be doing this.
I moved my mouth closer. Mere inches from his.
His soft breath skated over my skin, and I wanted to breathe him in.
Inhale him into my lungs until he was the very air that I breathed.
I kissed the corner of his mouth. Softly, gently. Brushed my lips over the stubble on his jaw.
Traced his dark brows with my fingertips. The slope of his nose. The curve of his mouth. Still so familiar to me.
He sighed.
I pressed my mouth against his and we stayed like that for a few long moments.
My legs trembled. My hands shook.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Our chests rose and fell together on every inhale and exhale, and I wouldn’t be surprised if our hearts beat in sync, too.
He smiled against my lips and murmured, “I remember this. It’s good to be home.”
Then he took charge and changed the pace. He grabbed my face in his hands and his mouth crashed against mine. My legs cinched tighter, ankles locking as his tongue swept into my mouth, and I tried to get as close to him as humanly possible.
My breasts pressed against his chest and his hard length lined up with my core. I swiveled my hips.
He groaned. I moaned.
We kissed like the world was ending. We poured all the years of pent-up frustration and longing and lust into this kiss.
My fingers tugged at the ends of his hair and our mouths were fused, breaking apart only when he lifted me out of the water, planted my ass on the side of the pool and draped my leg over his shoulder.
“God,” he breathed. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful.”
Then he dipped his head and kissed a trail up my inner thigh.
Yes, yes, yes, yes.
Panting, I grabbed the back of his head, digging my fingers into his hair as his hot, expert lips teased and taunted. He was so close. So close.
Just as his mouth moved to the crease in my thigh, Otis started barking and a cheery voice called, “Gabriel! I’m taking a dip in your pool!”
I pulled away and scrambled to my feet as a brunette in a bikini top and shorts rounded the tall bushes and stopped at the pool’s edge.
Her gaze darted from Gabriel to me.
“Oh, hey.” She smiled and waved. “Sorry, I didn’t realize Gabriel had company.”