24. Brooklyn
24
brOOKLYN
“ H ey Gabe?”
“Yes, pumpkin patch?”
“Can you please come over here and kill me?”
I reached my arms up over my head and stretched, hearing my back crack as I leaned away from my laptop. My fucking laptop that I’d been staring at for oh, approximately the last twenty-two hours.
Not that I had been counting. Not that I had a running list in my mind of all the things I could have been doing if I weren’t preparing for my defense tomorrow, and my interview after that. No tally of all the minutes of my life I’d never get back.
Of course not. I was grateful for the opportunity to defend. Thankful to Redwoods College for wanting to interview me. And I was definitely not thinking of chucking my laptop out the window, grabbing Gabe’s hand, and driving off into the sunset until we ran out of gas.
Thinking about something like that would be absurd, and not just because I had outstanding student loans and a car payment due and a landlord who’d be pretty pissed if I just peaced out, leaving all my stuff scattered around the apartment. Not just because I had obligations pressing in from all sides.
It was absurd because that wasn’t something that could ever work for Gabe and me. Even after that awkward conversation the day he’d bought us cupcakes, I knew it was true. Even if Gabe couldn’t see it now, I could.
I knew that seven months from now, stuck shuttling back to Nowheresville every weekend to see me, he’d wish he’d taken me up on his offer to back out of our bet with Tanner. He’d resent it. Resent me. And I didn’t think I could handle that.
I’d stopped that conversation because there was no point in pushing it further. He would have fought me on it, neither of us would’ve conceded the point, and we’d have gone to bed angry. Instead, we’d gone to bed very much the opposite of angry.
And Gabe, blessedly, had let the issue lie. One of these days, we were going to have to confront it. But until then, I was happy to bury my head in the sand.
Except.
Except I had a nagging suspicion that something was already going wrong. Something that had nothing to do with Gabe resenting me in seven months, and everything to do with him not telling me something right now. Something to do with BHT. And Niya. And the way he turned the conversation around any time I asked him how things were going with work.
“If you want me to murder you, you could at least have the courtesy to look me in the eyes while I’m doing it.”
I barked a laugh and glanced up to see Gabe standing at my shoulder.
“How long have I been spaced out?”
“Would you believe me if I said I’ve been standing here for thirty minutes?”
“Probably.”
“Then thirty minutes. I’ve been very patient. You owe me.”
“Is that so?” I pushed my chair out from my desk and smiled, trying to shove my dark thoughts away.
Ninety-five percent of the time, everything between me and Gabe was great. It was just that final five percent that was driving me crazy. But my dissertation was driving me crazy enough right now. I should probably try not to add to that.
“It is so. And,” Gabe placed his hands on my shoulders and brought himself down to straddle my lap, “I think I know just how you can repay me.”
I ran my hands up his back, relishing the feel of his warm body underneath his shirt. I pressed my nose into his neck and inhaled deeply. He smelled like chicken—coq au vin, he’d said, not that I knew what the hell that was—and underneath, a scent all his own, like a field in summer and freshly plucked fruit. It made my heart ache, he smelled so good.
“You and this fucking apron.” I tugged on the strings where they tied behind his back. “You’ve still never met me at the door wearing just that when I’ve come home from work. I consider this a travesty.”
“What if I told you I wanted you to fuck me while I wore nothing but this apron?” Gabe whispered, his nose tickling my ear as he kissed my jaw.
“I’d say that I really need to finish prepping for my defense tomorrow, but that I’d very much like to take a rain check?”
“You’re working too much.” He pouted, then placed his hands on either side of my face and looked me in the eye. “You keep it up and you’re going to look like an old man by the time you’re thirty.”
“I’m not actually that far away from thirty,” I protested. “I am an old man.”
“Good point. You’re practically decrepit. And five whole years older than me.” Gabe’s lips glided across mine as he spoke. “Don’t worry though. I like old.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Definitely. Let other people have the Tyler Langs of the world. Give me Henry Kissinger.”
“Oh my God.” I threw my head back and laughed. “Seriously? Who else? Willie Nelson?”
“Stop, I’m getting hard.”
“Sidney Poitier?”
“I’m gonna cream my jeans if you keep talking like that.” Gabe bent to run his tongue along my Adam’s apple. “And that seems like such a waste, given how tempting our current position is.”
He stroked a hand down my chest and let it fall lightly on the erection I was sure he’d noticed. It was pretty much impossible to have him anywhere near me and not get hard. Even talking about him fucking Henry Kissinger couldn’t make it go away, and that was saying something. So taking his hand and moving it off me was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I sighed, skimming my hands up and down his thighs. “But I really don’t think I can—”
A sudden buzz stopped me mid-sentence, and Gabe jumped, then pulled his phone out of his back pocket.
“Who is it?”
“Niya.” His face fell. “Fuck, I should probably take it. Do you mind if I—”
“Go, go.” I sighed as he stood up. “I can watch dinner for a while.”
“It doesn’t really need watching, because it’s in the oven now. But if you wanted to open another bottle of wine, I wouldn’t say no.”
“I suppose I can manage that.”
“You’re the best. And don’t think you’ve won this argument, by the way—I’m still seducing you when I get off the phone.” Gabe darted in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before walking to the bedroom and closing the door behind him.
I didn’t have a right to be upset that he’d jumped up to take the call. I was the one who’d been trying to convince him to let me focus on work anyway. I should have been happy for the distraction.
Except, of course, that would mean that my brain felt like being logical. And it hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Why did it have to be Niya who called him? Why did Gabe always have to be so eager to talk to her?
I stood up slowly, trying to push those thoughts aside and telling myself it would be good to get a short break. It would be a bit ironic to die of a blood clot the night before my defense. A bit something, anyway, if not ironic. My understanding of the word’s meaning came almost entirely from that one Alanis Morissette song.
But it’d still be a shorter break than what Gabe had had in mind when he’d sat down on my lap. I’d just take a peek in the oven, find a bottle of wine, and stretch my legs before settling back down to bang out some more slides. Maybe I’d even get somewhere by the time he got off the phone.
I didn’t try to listen as I passed by the bedroom. I’d learned my lesson about that. But you couldn’t really walk from my desk to the kitchen without passing by the door. And I wasn’t going to walk around my apartment sticking my fingers in my ears, babbling lalalalala just to keep myself from accidentally hearing something that wasn’t meant for me.
But I should have.
Because as I walked by the bedroom, I couldn’t help but overhear Gabe. Talking louder than he realized. And fuck if I didn’t freeze up over the words I heard.
“Niya, you know why I can’t do that.” A pause. “Nothing’s changed. No, I haven’t told him, but I don’t think—” Another pause. “I just can’t. Please, just drop it. As far as I’m concerned, Brooklyn’s never going to find out, so it’s a non-issue, okay?”
What. The. Fuck?
Don’t jump to conclusions. Don’t do it. You’ve done it before and you were completely wrong. Don’t do it again. Don’t be a dumbass, Brooklyn. Please, for once in your life, just do the smart thing and let this go.
Right. Like I had any idea how to do that.
I forced myself to keep walking past the bedroom and into the kitchen, torn between trying to forget what I’d just heard and trying to make sense of it. What the hell was Gabe talking about?
At least this time, I knew he was talking about me. I couldn’t conceivably have gotten that wrong. I’d heard him say my fucking name.
So what the hell didn’t he want me to know? Whatever it was, he’d sounded annoyed that Niya was bringing it up. Like it was something they’d talked about before. Which made sense, considering that for the past few weeks, he’d always taken her phone calls in another room. Who knew how long they’d been conspiring.
Conspiring . What a preposterous word. But what else was I supposed to call my boyfriend’s secret conversations with another woman?
I stared blankly at the kitchen cabinets, unable to remember what I was supposed to be doing in there. Of course I knew I was being ridiculous. Of course I knew I was assuming the worst. Of course I knew I needed to just ask him. But until he got off the phone, I couldn’t stop my brain from spinning off in a million directions all at once.
It was just too eerily similar to the situation with Cal. A hot guy who inexplicably liked me, and decided he wanted to hook up with me, despite never having shown interest in men before. A hot guy who was close with a woman I’d never met, someone he could see whenever he wasn’t around me. A hot guy who was hiding something.
I knew Niya was Gabe’s boss. She had every reason to be calling him. And sure, I knew Gabe liked her. But they were supposed to just be friends. That was all they were, right?
I wanted to believe that, but suddenly, I wondered what happened all the days that Gabe was away from Savannah. He’d never mentioned Niya traveling with him, but my mind couldn’t stop creating pictures of the two of them sneaking off for trysts in hotels. Not that they’d need to sneak, even—I wouldn’t be there, so there’d be no need for secrecy.
I had to be wrong about this, because I didn’t know what I’d do with myself if I were right. Even though I knew the dream of me and Gabe riding off into the sunset together was a fairy tale, I wanted it. And if our relationship had to end, couldn’t it at least be on good terms? Did the universe really think I needed another lesson about falling for straight guys?
I heard the bedroom door open behind me. Dammit. I wasn’t ready to deal with this yet.
“Hey there, Grandpa. I seem to have misplaced my clothes. Wanna put your bifocals on and come help me look for them?”
I turned around and froze, staring. Gabe was leaning up against the doorframe, naked except for that fucking apron, which he’d hiked up to show off his muscular thighs. I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing. All the panic and wild conjecture spilled out of me in a high-pitched giggle, and I couldn’t get it to stop.
“I’m sorry,” I wheezed. “Fuck, I’m not—fuck—laughing at you. It’s just, oh, what the hell.”
I gave up and let the laugh roll through my body, releasing some of my tension with it.
Gabe grinned. “Can’t say that’s exactly the reaction I was expecting. But I’ll take it.”
I pulled myself together, hoping I’d gotten my emotions under control.
“I’m sorry. You just startled me.”
Fuck. If I was going to say something, I had to say it now. Speak now or forever hold your sneaking suspicion that your newly bisexual, fake-husband is for-real cheating on you with his super hot lady boss.
“Uh, everything okay at work?”
“It’s fine. It’s just—” Gabe made a face. “You know, I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s okay? It’s not important, it’s just going to stress me out, and I don’t want me stressing out to stress you out anymore before tomorrow.”
“You won’t stress me out, I promise.”
I forced myself to take a step towards him. Once I was moving, closing the distance between us felt automatic. I just had to remind myself that I couldn’t get too comfortable. Couldn’t fall back into autopilot. Something was wrong here. And tempting though it was, sticking my head in the sand again would help nothing.
I took his hand when I reached him, pulled it to my lips, and kissed the backs of his fingers. “If there’s something you need to tell me,” I said, swallowing hard, “please, just do it. I’d rather know than not know. Even before my dissertation. Please just be honest.”
“Jesus, Brooklyn, what do you think that phone call was about? I don’t have cancer. Nobody’s dying. I promise you, it was just stupid work stuff. Not a big deal.”
There it was. The lie. And all I could do now was accept it. Or fight it.
But if I fought it, that was the end of all of this. If I forced this argument to a head tonight, everything that Gabe and I had would disappear. Everything it had taken me so damn long to accept that I even wanted would be gone.
I knew I was supposed to be strong. I knew the right thing to do. But I also knew, right then, more clearly than I ever had before, staring at Gabe in that goddam apron with his smile that was brighter than the Milky Way, that I couldn’t fucking stand it if he left tonight.
I was in love with him.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was in love with Gabriel Evelyn Hastings. And, one way or another, I was going to lose him.
“Brooklyn, you’re scaring me. You’re doing that silent, thousand-yard stare again, like you’re facing a firing squad. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
I shook my head, saying the word vehemently. To convince him. To convince myself. Because when everything was wrong, when you realized you were in love with someone who was about to slip out of your grasp, there was nothing you could do but try to enjoy the time you had left.
“Come here.” I pulled him in for a kiss. His body pressed up against me, and when I stroked his back, cupping his perfect ass with my hands, I could feel his cock stir against mine, and it only made me harder.
“Fuck, Brooklyn,” Gabe breathed softly. I pulled back an inch just to look at him, just to take in his pink lips, his blue eyes, those long lashes framing them like the works of art they were.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” I kissed his cheekbone, felt his lashes flutter beneath my lips as I drew them across his face to kiss the other side. “And beautiful. And perfect.”
I felt like I needed to tell him that. Tell him something, anyway. Let him know how important he was to me. Even if he was slipping away.
Gabe tilted his face up, tangling his fist in my shirt. “Fuck me. Please.”
His voice was almost a whine, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. Even if he was cheating on me, even if I was losing him—at that instant, I didn’t care. I just needed to feel him beneath me again.
I walked him back towards the bed, stripping my clothes off in a hurry. I needed him and I needed him now. There was a fire in me, an urgency pushing me forward, and it had nothing to do with my dissertation calling me back or dinner in the oven or even that phone call that he wouldn’t explain.
I loved Gabe and I couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t put that pressure on him, didn’t want to deal with things blowing up tonight. So I had to show him, instead.
He grinned as he wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands stroking my back. “Wanna undress me now?”
“Fuck no,” I growled. “I wasn’t kidding about the apron. You’re fucking adorable in it.”
“Oh great. Adorable.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “You want me to hold a kitten and sit in a teacup too?”
I cut him off with a kiss, and we were both gasping when I pulled away. “Bad choice of words. Fuckable is what I meant.”
I pushed him down onto the bed, rolling him over onto his stomach and pressing my body against his. I ground my hips down, letting him feel my hard cock on his ass, showing him how badly I wanted him.
He moaned as I kissed his shoulder blades, then ran my tongue over each vertebra as I moved down his spine. I tugged the apron strings out with my teeth, then released them with a snap.
“Please,” Gabe whimpered when I reached the dip in his lower back just above his ass, pressing a kiss to his warm skin.
I warred with myself briefly, desperate to be inside him and desperate to taste him again. His whines made the decision for me, and I spread his cheeks apart and licked down his crack to his entrance. Fuck, I loved the way he tasted, sweet and musky, and I licked a long stripe across his hole.
“Oh God, yes, fuck, Brooklyn.” Gabe’s voice broke as he moaned.
I loved his taste, loved his warm, sweet scent, loved his soft, pliant body in my hands. I loved watching him fall apart beneath me, knowing that I was the one who’d made him come undone. I loved him .
“Fuck, Brooklyn, fuck.”
His whispers trailed into incoherence, soft sounds of pleasure as I kissed and licked before finally pulling back and pressing my whole body against him again. He pushed back onto me, grinding his ass against my throbbing cock.
“Please,” he gasped. “Oh God, please.”
Hearing him beg struck something inside me like a match, and my hands tore the drawer of the nightstand open in a frenzy to find the lube as he pressed himself up onto all fours. I squeezed some onto both hands, stroking my cock with my left hand and pushing the middle finger of my right hand to his entrance. He pushed back on it immediately, whining as it sank into him. Goddamn that was hot, watching him slide up and down on my finger.
“More,” Gabe demanded, and I pushed another one in, my cock throbbing at the sight of him fucking himself on my fingers. I was overcome with desire, this need to be inside him, so when he looked over his shoulder, his eyes glassy with lust, and whispered, “fuck me,” I couldn’t hold back.
He whimpered as I slid my fingers out but sighed when I placed the head of my cock up against his pink hole. God, I hoped that had been enough prep because I couldn’t wait any longer. I pushed into him, feeling his tight ring expand around me, grabbing onto my cock. I sank into him in one long thrust, and he made a sound that was half groan, half sob. The noise stopped me in my tracks.
“Are you okay?” I felt a stab of guilt in my chest and ran my hand up his back to squeeze his shoulder gently. “Fuck, did that hurt? Do you need me to pull out?”
“God no,” he moaned. “Fuck, please keep going. Just fuck me.”
That was all I needed to hear. I leaned back, pulling out an inch and then sliding back in, my body drawn to his like a magnet. He groaned at the motion, setting something loose in my chest. I stroked into him again, longer and harder this time, and he groaned even louder.
I could live on a diet of the sounds Gabe made, I decided. Who needed food when you could hear him whimpering and begging, moaning in pleasure, breathing hard and leaning into every touch? I could die a happy man, just listening to him, and never realize I was starving.
I sped up, increasing my speed and force, and he met me with every thrust. Our bodies crashed together like waves, long, rolling swells and clashes of energy, releasing sparks and heat. I grabbed the apron strings lying taut across his back and pulled up on them, bucking his body back onto me.
“Fuck, yes.” Gabe groaned in pleasure, an animal sound, and pushed back onto me. “Fuck, do that again.”
I gripped his hip with one hand and wrapped the fingers of the other through the ties, pulling him back onto me with every thrust. His body shook, he whined and grunted, and he moaned again and again.
“Yes, fuck, yes, yes, yes.”
I let his sweet words wash over me. I could feel my orgasm building, feel everything inside me growing tight. I knew I was going to come, but I wanted him with me when I did. I let my hand slip from his hip around to his front, fumbling behind the flap of the apron to grab his cock and stroke him. Gabe rolled his hips, thrusting his cock into my hand, then rocking his ass back onto my dick.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned. “So fucking big, so hard. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck .”
His muscles contracted as he came into my hand, his ass getting even tighter around my cock, and the constriction pushed me over the edge.
“Oh God, Gabe. I—you—I lo—fuck, I’m coming.”
I rode the high of my climax, almost disconnected from myself as I swam in pleasure, releasing into Gabe and then collapsing onto the bed with him, both of us spent and wrapped up in a tangle of sheets and sweat. Only then did I realize how close I’d been to telling him I loved him as I came.
I looked down at him, lying in my arms. His cheeks were flushed, his hair rumpled, his lips raw and wet from kissing, and the urge to tell him right then almost knocked me over. It was like something was pulling on the words inside my chest, trying to tug them out of my throat. I pressed a kiss to his forehead to keep myself from blurting it out.
“I love that fucking apron,” I whispered when I pulled back.
Gabe laughed, sweet and lazy, his blue eyes as deep as the sky. “Yeah?”
“More than I’ve ever loved anything.”
“I guess it’s a keeper then.” He grinned and pressed himself into my chest. I wrapped my arms around him instinctively, pressing a hand to the back of his head while I blinked away the tears that sprang to my eyes. Fuck, I loved him so much. And all I could think about was how sure I was that I was losing him.
“Definitely,” I whispered. “Definitely a keeper.”