Chapter 10 #2
His breath sails across my lips, a warm warning that I should step back.
But at this moment, I’m beyond reasoning.
“Yes. I do… love Elijah,” I whisper, almost like I need to remind myself. “Of course I do.”
And yet… for reasons I can’t explain, I think I might love him too.
His eyes flicker—catching something in mine I didn’t mean to show.
“You can love me too…” he challenges, like he’s daring me to admit it.
The words crawl over my skin, sending chills up my arms. My pulse stutters… because I know I didn’t just say that out loud.
“Noah! Are you in there? Open the door, sweetheart.”
Gabriel’s fist lands hard against the wooden door, the sound shuddering through the room and jarring us both from this dangerous dance.
Without thinking, I slam my mouth into Noah’s, catching him completely by surprise. I taste the sweetness of his lips and inhale his sharp gasp. His moan slips onto my tongue as I run my palms over his cheeks and slide my fingers through his hair, holding him close for just a moment too long.
“Noah… please, sweetheart. Open the door.” Gabriel pleads from the other side, that smooth, syrupy Spanish accent filling the space.
I want to spit on his words. Smother them.
Rip them apart before they reach Noah’s ears.
I want to tear myself apart too—because what am I even doing here?
Kissing him like he’s mine when I know damn well this isn’t romance.
More like disaster with a pretty face. Or a storm I keep stepping into on purpose.
I just haven’t figured out why I’d rather bleed than walk away.
Noah’s lips tremble beneath mine, the vibration sending shockwaves through my veins.
“Noah!” Gabriel’s voice cuts through the door, sharp and commanding.
“I’m coming,” Noah mumbles against my mouth.
The words melt into the kiss, sloppy and ruined, and I wonder if Gabriel can hear it—how wrecked Noah sounds, how muffled his voice is, tangled up in our kiss.
A part of me hopes he can.
Okay. That’s fucked up. But I have no restraint when it comes to this beautiful man.
“Please, Alex,” Noah whispers, his breath hot against my lips. “I need to know… can you see the rain?”
I peel my lips off his and take a step back. “I can’t, Noah. I can’t.”
“You can’t… what?” He sighs, voice trembling. “Can’t see the rain? Can’t love me? Can’t figure this out? Can’t…”
He chokes on the rest, wipes his tears across his wrists, and takes a deep breath.
I don’t know what to say. Don’t even know how to speak anymore. Suddenly, I feel engulfed in confusion. Again.
It’s not the first time he’s asked me about the rain.
Not the first time he’s looked at me like it should mean something. At least to one of us.
But every time he says it, or asks me to figure this out, I feel like I’m standing outside a moment I’m supposed to understand, soaking wet and blind to whatever truth he’s drowning in.
“Can you at least make me a promise?” he asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
He reaches for my hand, fingers tracing gently over the ink on my skin. His touch lingers on the lines of the puzzle piece, like he’s trying to read something that I clearly can’t see.
Then his eyes lift—soft, wet, hopeful enough to hurt.
“Promise that you’ll find me. And when you do… dance with me?”
A tear rolls down his cheek, slipping past his trembling lips, and something in me reaches for it on instinct. I want to gather every single tear and guard them as if they were precious.
But they’re not mine.
I reach up anyway, smoothing a stray strand from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. My touch lingers just a breath too long against his skin.
“I can’t make any promises, beautiful.”
ELIJAH
“You’re not going anywhere.” I grab Gabriel’s arm and force him back into the chair. He grunts as he lands, clearly not expecting me to push back. “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
He scowls, fingers threading anxiously through those gorgeous waves I used to know like the back of my hand.
“I don’t know, Elijah. I honestly don’t know.”
I don’t buy it. Not for a second.
I push my plate aside and lean forward, steepling my fingers beneath my chin, giving him a chance to come clean—even though we both know I’m already prepared for war.
“Then let’s start with this…”
I pause, let the silence thicken. Let it press between us like a hand to the throat.
“What was Noah doing at your house in Spain?”
“You really want me to answer that?” he asks, arching a brow, smug.
I ignore the grin on his lips. I don’t flinch. Don’t blink. I lean in just enough to let him know I’m done with the games.
“Yes, I do. And spare me the X-rated version.”
That wipes the grin clean off his face. His expression tightens, guard snapping into place—just as I expected. He mirrors my posture—equal parts challenge and defense.
“Not that my relationship with Noah is any of your business,” he says, holding my gaze with those stubborn gray eyes. “But I flew him out to visit with me over the summer.”
“And how long has this relationship been going on? He lives in our building, you know?”
Gabriel’s eyes flicker to the glass doors leading out to the rooftop, his lips curling into that familiar smirk once again. “Of course I know. I met him at the community pool.”
“Ah, okay. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
I nod slowly and lean back, pretending I’m still in control of this conversation, pretending my pulse isn’t trying to beat its way out of my throat.
“And since when did you start using that amenity? Because, in case you’ve forgotten, we have a private pool”—I gesture toward the glass doors—“right through those doors.”
He shrugs nonchalantly, completely unfazed by the tension in the room. “Sí… but our pool doesn’t have a twink with sexy blue eyes and a tiny strip of material that barely covers his—”
“Enough!”
My fist hits the table with a crack, silverware rattling like it’s afraid of me.
Gabriel smirks—because of course he does. My anger only amuses him. It always has. And I brace myself because I can see the next blow forming in his eyes before he delivers it.
“Do you like him, Elijah?”
His voice is syrupy-slow, dripping with mock curiosity.
“Is that why you are so interested?” He tilts his head, studying me like he’s reading the fine print on my soul. “Do you want to fuck Noah?”
The question is a knife twisting in my gut. I tighten my grip on his wrist, jaw clenched so hard it’s almost painful.
“You and I both know he’s not my type.”
Gabriel leans in, his eyes narrowing with a predator’s focus, daring me to deny the truth.
“Ah… maybe not.”
He lets the silence linger, a subtle victory dancing on his lips.
“But he’s Alex’s type, sí?”
He knows he’s landed the blow. I can feel the weight of his words, the sting of them cutting through the air between us.
But I’m not one to back down so easily.
I squeeze his fingers with a little more force than necessary, but he doesn’t flinch. Narrowing my eyes, I speak slowly.
“Do not get involved in mine and Alex’s business. Do I make myself clear?”
He doesn’t blink. Instead, he matches my grip, just as firm.
“And what business are you referring to?”
“The bedroom,” I say with a snicker and a stare sharp enough to carve him open.
We both know exactly what I’m referring to.
“Mmm… I wouldn’t think of bringing Noah into your bedroom, love. His ass isn’t up for grabs.” He drags his tongue across his lips, slow and obscene. “My ass, on the other hand, is—”
“Don’t go there, Gabriel.” I hiss the words through clenched teeth, twisting his wrist hard enough to make a point. “I will never let Alex near your ass.”
Despite the flare of pain I know he feels, he still manages to grin. Of course he does. He’s always loved the burn.
“Elijah, love. As appealing as it is to have Alex all up inside me—and trust me, that is very appealing—but the only dick I will ever take is yours, mi amor.”
His face softens, and a sudden urge to kiss him washes over me.
Gabriel’s love for me has always been disarmingly honest. I can’t remember a time he ever held back.
He just doesn’t feel emotions—he lives them.
Whether he’s crying, loving, laughing, or simply being, it’s all raw, all real.
His feelings run deep, rooted in the marrow of who he is.
And he’s never ashamed of them. Never hides them. Never has to.
My gaze drops to his lips. It’s impossible to stay mad at him—not when I know where all this intense energy is coming from.
Slowly, I lift my eyes back to his. They’re blazing… and then they fall, tracing the shape of my mouth.
I know what he’s doing. He’s a fantastic lip-reader. No words are needed for him to understand me.
And what I want to say is this:
I love you.
I wish I could lose myself in your kisses and your arms.
That despite everything, you’re still my world.
A small, albeit sad, smile tugs at the corners of his full lips as he reluctantly drags his eyes away from my mouth. A tear slips down his cheek, catching the light. I loosen my hold on his wrists, my thumbs sweeping gently across his pulse points.
He swallows, the sound thick with everything he’s not saying.
“Gabriel…” I murmur. I bring his hands to my lips, pressing soft kisses along the backs of his fingers.
My eyes catch the pale circle on his ring finger, and I brush my thumb over the tender skin where his wedding band used to rest.
“Go find Noah, love.”
He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, pausing long enough to steady the storm inside him.
When he opens them again, he leans across the table and places a gentle kiss on my cheek. His lips linger there for a moment before they trail a slow, damp path down the side of my face. They stop just shy of my mouth, brushing the corner in a ghost of a kiss that steals a piece of my breath.
“Mi amor,” he whispers.
“It’s okay, love.”
I nod, breathing him in—his cologne, his warmth, the familiarity of him—letting forgiveness settle in my chest, tangled with all the complicated ways I still love him.