31. Kingston/Gabe
31
KINGSTON/GABE
Gabe rocks back on his heels, taking those kissable lips with him. The lust in his eyes cools as he nods slowly.
My heart aches, there’s a sharp pinch in my chest, and I want to call my words back. Tell him we absolutely can kiss. But that’s the hormones talking.
“You’re right,” he says.
His lips twist, and his jaw clenches and releases, a sure sign that those words were hard to admit.
My shoulders drop a fraction, relieved that he understands and that we’re on the same page. Even if this isn’t the page we want to be on.
“It’s not that I don’t want this.” I wave a finger between us. “But I came back for Katherine .”
Another nod.
“And it’s not about you versus her,” I rush to add, not sure if I’m making any sense. I’m drunk on desire, spiraling into the place where my feelings get jumbled and impossible to articulate. “I just think we should talk to her before. . .”
I should talk to her.
The idea makes my stomach woozy, like a rough night on my sailboat. There are so many things Katherine doesn’t know about me, things I can’t tell her. Things I’ve kept carefully contained, locked away in the shadows.
But Gabe watches me with those cunning blue eyes that see the world like a game of chess. It’s that engineer brain, calculating and rebuilding, moving pieces across the board. Knowing when to retreat and when to advance.
It’s sexy AF.
And terribly disconcerting.
“Yeah. I get it.” With a final nod, he drops his hand from my shoulder and reaches for the bottle of wine. “We’re finally in a place where she’s more likely to cup my balls than kick them. I don’t want to mess that up.”
My lips twitch, and I can’t hold in my laugh. See what I mean? Chess pieces.
He’s got it all figured out.
“Understandable.” I’m sure there are some kinky dudes out there who don’t mind a swift kick to the nuts, but I’m not a masochist. Gabe’s right on the money.
I watch him walk out of the cellar, more conflicted than ever. My head tells me I did the right thing, but my body isn’t so sure. I run a hand over my face. My skin’s still on fire, pulse thundering through my veins, arousal pumping through me.
My phone makes a happy, trilling sound, Katherine’s new text tone, as I follow Gabe to his kitchen. Speak of the devil. Er. Angel.
It’s funny how just hearing that sound makes my mood lift. Smiling, I fish out my phone.
Katherine: wish you were here.
Three dots pop up and then a picture. It’s blurry for a fraction of a second, and my brain automatically anticipates a pretty picture of Paris.
It sure as shit doesn’t expect the gorgeous, boudoir-style shot of my girl, laid out on a table, a fluffy white robe covering parts of her, hand over her other breast, head thrown back, biting the tips of her fingers as if she needs something to snack on and just can’t help herself.
“Fuck me.” Gabe’s hoarse declaration sounds from around the corner.
Couldn’t have said it better myself. My lust kickstarts, and my feet pick up the pace.
I find him standing next to the kitchen island, one hand on the bottle of wine, the other holding his phone. He stares down at the screen, his jaw slack, looking at the same picture I am. I glance at the text again, realizing she sent it to both of us. Because, of course, she did.
Her thoughtfulness is one of my favorite things about her. Once she lets you into her life, you’re in. And while we may not have put a label on this relationship, it’s obvious that she’s thinking of Gabe and me even when she’s halfway around the world.
“It’s like she’s trying to get me to fly over there, meetings be damned,” he grouses, wine forgotten.
“Us,” I say and flash my screen at him.
“This woman. I swear.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, and my fingers are ready and willing to offer him a massage. Soothe his tension. “It’s like she has a sixth sense or something. Perfect timing. Along with a finger on our pulse, knowing just how to drive us crazy with desire.”
He’s not wrong. As if I wasn’t already keyed up.
“You don’t think we should...” He leaves the sentence unfinished but mimics a plane taking off with his hand.
“She’s on a date,” I remind us both.
“Right.”
We’re silent for what has to be a full minute. Him staring at his phone, me staring at mine.
With a sigh, he puts his phone down and finishes uncorking the wine. “I’ve never been jealous of Alex before.”
“Me either,” I quip, lightening the mood.
He smirks as he puts his bowl into the microwave. “We’ll just have to return the favor.”
Then he’s off in search of wine glasses, leaving my jaw on the floor. Return the favor? An image immediately flashes into my mind. Gabe spread out naked on a big bed, a sheet carefully covering his cock, that sultry smirk gracing his lips.
Shit.
My dick presses against my zipper, so needy and aching to be touched.
“Have you thought about where you want to go on your date?” he asks, returning with two goblets, unaware of my torment.
It’s all delightfully domestic. A glittering city sits outside the windows, with soft lighting inside, setting a cozy mood. He pours me a glass of vino as if we do this all the time. This is our life together.
I swirl the wine, focusing on the rich burgundy color. “Yeah. I’d actually like to go back to Greece. We took a trip there a few years ago, and it was incredible.”
It would have been more incredible if I hadn’t been fighting a hard-on for two-thirds of the week.
“You?” I ask.
He settles onto a stool at the end of the island, a steaming bowl in front of him.
“Well, Paris and Greece are out,” he says, a hint of wry humor lacing his words.
“It’s a big world.”
Gabe’s fork pauses in midair, and he turns toward me. “When did you become so wise?”
I stare into my wine, Marko’s words drifting through my mind. What are you waiting for?
“The night I decided to come home.”
Home. Huh. I haven’t thought of New York as home for almost a decade. It’s the chaos castle where most of my family resides, where my best friend lives, where my desires felt too out of place. Too weird. Too stifled.
I’m tossed back to a week ago, when I first returned, and Katherine, in her enthusiasm, had almost said, ‘I didn’t know you were coming home.’ But she’d stopped herself. Because she knows me, knows how I feel about New York and elevators and...
None of that matters anymore, though. Yes, I still hate little metal boxes that I can’t see out of. But this feeling of belonging surpasses that discomfort and fear and anxiety.
Katherine is home. The way her eyes light up when she sees me. The instant opening of her arms. The way she knows me and accepts me, cheers me on. The way she loves me and forgives me.
“You okay?” Gabe asks and I glance over, seeing he’s polished off his meal.
“Yeah.” I really am. I mean, am I still conflicted over my attraction to the man next to me? One hundred percent. But there’s also a peace I haven’t felt in a long time.
Gabe
I take a sip, savoring the bouquet. Every time I blink, I see that picture of Katherine, and my blood heats.
I can’t believe I was about to kiss her best friend.
I mean, I can. Because it’s so fucking fun to make her melt, and he’s the epitome of fun-loving. And they’re both hot enough to boil water. Seriously, no one should look so sexy swirling wine, but King is a work of art.
Every movement. Every smirk of those full lips. That casual nonchalance.
I push away from the countertop and put my dishes in the washer. “Ready for part two?” I ask.
Those soft, green eyes meet mine, and parts of me spin around in glee. A month ago, hell, twenty-four hours ago, I was sure I needed my head examined. But now I’ve woken up from that fog.
This is right where I’m meant to be and who I’m meant to be with.
Living a life that’s anything but ordinary because I’ve carved it out for myself. The money, the status, the apartment, the friendships.
I’ve fought hard for every single bit, and I’m not about to stop now.
“Come on,” I nod toward the other side of the apartment, ignoring my fatigue. “You’re really going to like Legolas in this one.”
He actually reminds me a lot of the light-footed elf. They both possess an unearthly grace. And he might have been born with a highly polished silver spoon in his mouth, but it’s obvious that he’s willing to fight for what he wants.
Which is Katherine.
I need to remember that.
On the way down the wide hall, he pauses in front of the collage wall.
“They’re just snapshots from my travels.” I’m not a great photographer, but when I saw this expanse of wall, I knew I wanted to see mementos from my trips. All the places I’ve gone. There’s plenty of space left for all the places I’ll go in the future.
“Impressive.”
“I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Oh yeah?” He steps away from the picture wall and follows me past the theater room.
I second-guess myself every step of the way. Is this too forward? Will he think I’m weird?
Shrugging off the doubt, I reach for the doorknob.
“You don’t have a life-sized cardboard cutout of Aragorn, do you?” King teases.
“You wish.”
“I mean...” He shrugs, lips curling up.
“I could wait until Katherine returns, but I don’t want you thinking... I know I had a bit of a freak out after our run.”
“When you went radio silent?” he inserts.
“Yeah.” Unease creeps over my shoulders. “That’s over now. I mean, mostly?—”
“Open the door, Gabriel.”
A spike of pure lust shoots through my veins, followed by an immediate acquiescence. What the actual fuck? When did his voice get so deep and... dominant?
I shove the door open, revealing the mini-makeover I had my team complete this afternoon. A yoga mat. A small sectional sofa. A side table by the window where his little succulent sits.
“You can do whatever you want in here. Decorate or whatever. I just wanted you to have a space of your own.”
He shoulders past me, striding to the middle of the room, then turns in a full circle. “Seriously?”
Is that a good seriously or a ‘what the fuck’ seriously? I lean against the doorframe, trying to act cool and casual, but there’s a riot raging in me.
He walks over to the table, bends, and inspects the plant. “This is amazing. When? How?”
“This afternoon. It’s incredible what money can do.”
He makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a scoff, flicking his attention to me.
“You just have a spare room lying around?”
“A few, actually. This used to be two penthouses.”
“And Alex has his own room?”
“His own wing. It was going to be a temporary solution while he found a new place, but I don’t think he’s going anywhere,” I tell King.
We have an indoor basketball court downstairs, so there’s no way he’ll give that up. Not to mention, it’s convenient for both our offices. We get to see each other every day. And Katherine’s just a few floors below us... for now.
“I had them outfit a space for Katherine as well,” I add.
His brows lift. “Bold.”
I shrug. “Hopeful.”
“Can I see it?”
I nod and step back. The next bedroom over has a bed for her, a multi-shelved contraption for her plants, and a cozy chair and several lamps, all in the colors and the slightly feminine yet modern aesthetic of her apartment.
“You’re going to make her cry.”
“Happy tears, I hope.”
“You fight dirty, man.”
“I play to win,” I say, studying him as he looks out her window. It’s a river view, the same as his. Once I got my head out of my ass, it was clear to me that I didn’t want to lose Katherine. This whole week has felt like the culmination of a crash course on Katherine, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
But I want him, too. I see a lot of myself in Kingston. That zest for life. Always saying yes. Living for adventure. Making the most of things. That’s him. And it’s me. And it could be us.
“You really are a collector,” he murmurs, turning back to me. “Your pictures, trips, wine. Those memories. And now, people.”
I hadn’t thought of it like that, but he’s right.
“Come on, I have one more thing you’re going to like.”
I weave my way through the apartment, across exquisite wood floors, to my bedroom. Pushing open the double doors, I’m met with the scent of fresh linens and sandalwood. Along one wall is the most massive bed I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’m once again impressed that my team was able to pull all this together in such a short time. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with the task, but my assistant once again proved he could move mountains. And California king-sized mattresses.
“Wow,” King says, stumbling to a stop at my side.
“No more falling into the cracks of the sectional.” Perhaps this is wishful thinking, but I want more sexy times with the four of us. But I also want comfort and reasonable rest afterward.
He slaps me on the shoulder. “I like the way you think.”
Then he steps forward, petting the bedding. They made it up like a hotel. Crisp white linens and fluffy pillows. My own cloud in the sky. One I won’t mind sharing with the three of them.
“Surprised you don’t have a TV in here, though, Mr. Tech Tycoon.”
Smirking, I stride over to my nightstand and hit two switches on the side. Simultaneously, blinds lower across all the windows and in the center of the room, over the foot of the bed, a large flat-panel television descends from the ceiling.
Kingston whistles, then laughs.
I love my toys and creature comforts. I see no use in working so hard if I can’t enjoy my off hours.
“I’ve got the perfect idea of how you can return the favor ,” he murmurs, voice dripping with mischief. He kicks off his shoes and then sprawls across the mattress. “At least partially.”
Trust him to know how to work a camera angle. Feet bare, legs crossed at the ankles, and his hands behind his head, his biceps bulging.
And just like that, my lust returns. I take a deep, steadying breath because he looks good enough to use as a dessert plate.
I pull out my phone, launch the camera, and approach the mattress. His lips curl up. “Make sure you write ‘wish you were here’ when you send her the pic.”