20. Gabe
20
GABE
What the hell am I doing? I shake my head at myself as I glance at the mirror. Last night was a rush. Being in that glittering ballroom, surrounded by the most exquisite clothing money can buy. Perfume that costs more than most people’s rent. Watches more expensive than a BMW.
I flick the shower to hot and shed my shirt. There was a time when I wanted all of that. The fanciest everything. The trophy wife. I worked my tail off to make something of myself and achieve every single one of my wildest dreams.
But last night, all of that paled in comparison to the auction, the woman on the stage, and my best friend at my side.
I shuck the rest of my clothes and step beneath the spray. The house might be well worn— loved the real estate agent had said—but at least the hot water heater knows how to do its job. The little bar of soap isn’t much, and it smells awful, but at least I’ll be clean.
How long has it been since I used a bar of soap as shampoo?
Ages. College? Freshman year? That’s when Alex took me under his wing. He had a nice apartment. Actual shampoo. A quality soap. Nothing was from a dollar store or homemade.
My chest squeezes, and my mind spirals backward through time.
“Stop coddling them, Maude. Soap is for clean’n. Not smell’n good.” My father’s voice boomed through the house, and I swear the walls shook. They’d been out of the cheap stuff and so Momma’d gotten the next cheapest. This soap smelled like spring and rain. It smelled like heaven.
“Daddy just doesn’t like change,” she assured us later. But I learned two things that day. Number one, embrace change like it was my life’s mission. And two, do whatever it takes to smell like heaven on a daily basis.
I come back to the here and now with a gasp. Sputtering beneath the hot spray, I turn to wash off the bubbles.
It’s just temporary. Tonight, I’ll be back to my apartment where shampoo comes in a bottle and my body wash smells like lime zest and sin.
Have I been embracing change lately ?
I lather my hands and run them over my face.
At some point, the company and my to-do list took over. Sure, there’s a specific trajectory and I have side projects that shake things up a bit, but. . .
“Don’t think it. Don’t you dare think it.”
Too late.
Something’s missing.
I turn the water to cold and shove my face into the spray. We need a do-over. Rewind everything back to yesterday morning and go for a jog instead of to the gym. And for heaven’s sake, don’t go to that gala with Alex.
He wants her.
Katie Bird.
He kissed her.
I kissed her anyway.
I’m a lousy fucking friend.
Goosebumps cover my arms as I brace my hands against the wall. I hang my head. The water sluices down in one thick stream.
“I bid first,” I say to the empty room.
She was a goddamn vision on that stage. So cool and aloof, staring straight ahead like everyone in the room could kiss her shoes.
Half the people there probably would if they thought it’d get them into the Montgomery’s good graces.
I drag a hand down my face.
That’s the thing, though. I want nothing from her family. There’s nothing they have that I can’t buy myself. No connections needed other than a capable gardener.
The only thing I want is. . . her.
Rubbing my fingers against my breastbone, I try to massage away the ache there. But the tightness in my chest has been building for two days, and it won’t cease.
I really shouldn’t want her. No good can come of it, right? She’s prickly.
Except when she’s not.
She’s the granddaughter of Henry Chanler.
She’s also a Montgomery.
But she’s also Katherine.
Katherine, who takes her fury out on a punching bag rather than people.
Katherine, who goes to bat for children across the country, raising funds and getting them better education to live better lives.
Katherine, who likes this worn-out old house.
God.
She was so fucking hot in Alex’s t-shirt. Bare legs. Absolutely dwarfed in the soft white fabric. And her voice, telling me to get in the bed. So stern. So sweet.
And the way my name sounds on her lips.
I can’t wait to hear it again.
I can’t wait to take her on that date.
Is she one of the changes I should say yes to? Is it possible that after all this time, the thing that’s missing from my life is a woman?
And not just any woman, but Katherine Montgomery?
Just thinking of her that way makes me hot under the skin. My cock flares to life.
Her lips beneath mine were a whole new world. Soft and accepting. Firm and needy. And the way she moved against me. So subtle and yet, with every intention of crawling into my arms and staying there.
I want to do it again.
I want to slide my hands up those creamy thighs and see what’s beneath that shirt.
I want to feel her skin against mine.
My hand finds my cock like the two have a mind of their own. The cold water does nothing to cool the need pumping through my veins.
Only a few walls separate us. If not for them, I could have her here. In my arms. Pressed up against the tile. Kissing her. Impaling her on my cock.
With that mental picture, it only takes a few strokes to work myself to a frenzy. I reach for the soap with my free hand and lather up my dick. Fuck yes.
She’d feel even better. I’d bet every penny I’ve ever made.
Katherine might be cool and prickly sometimes, but she’s also warm and supple in my arms. Funny. Sexy.
I can almost imagine her walking in here, her slender fingers wrapping around my cock, taking over the job. Cool skin on my scorched dick. Slow at first. Then faster. And faster strokes until. . .
I burst. Coming with a growl, I pump my hips forward, thrusting into my hand. Jets of cum arc across the shower. My chest heaves, and I suck in a lungful of humid air. One last stroke, and I let it all wash down the drain.
Too bad the relief is only skin deep. Now is not the time to examine why jerking one out only makes me want her more.
I’ve barely caught my breath when there’s a knock at the door.