Chapter 22 Gabriel
I swirl the last bits of liquid in my drink, watching as the ice cubes clink against the glass, hollow and sharp.
Empty. Again.
Three glasses of whiskey down, and I was supposed to be finishing Natasha and Aly’s damn table so that they don’t have to use the shitty one that came with their place, but I got sidetracked.
By brooding.
By drinking.
By sinking too deep into my own head.
And then I went to my bedroom, saw Eden’s text that said she was staying in the city with her boyfriend tonight, and then my eyes landed on the pants I wore the night I first took Aly in her bathroom, and I remembered.
The red thong was still there in my back pocket.
Bright. Bold. Like a fucking fire alarm.
It was warning me. Telling me to stop before I take this jealousy too far.
Telling me she’s still finding her footing in Brookhaven.
That she’s newly divorced. Untethered. That she needs this night out with a stranger to figure out what she really wants in a man.
That she hasn’t had a chance to live without the oppression of her ex clouding all her decisions.
She deserves a chance to put herself first.
It's not like I’ve taken my own advice. I’m a man who’s known for years that he needs to start making time for dating again. For his own wants. But I never have. Because there’s always been someone else who needed me more in the moment.
Eden finishing middle school.
Eden finishing high school.
Eden finishing college.
Paying off the mortgage on our family home.
Running the family thrift store.
Selling the thrift store.
Making sure Rhiannon is mentally okay and taking care of herself while we navigate parenthood to our sister.
Making sure there’s enough money in the account to keep our parents’ debts from swallowing us whole.
Making sure Eden is eating enough.
It’s been a long, merciless decade of taking care of everyone else but myself. And now Eden’s about to graduate. She has a guy that she’s dating. She’s always gone. The house is paid off, my parent’s debt destroyed, and Rhiannon’s married with her own family to worry about.
And where does that leave me? I’ve thrown myself into the next thing.
The new business with my cousin. The new employees that I need to pay a livable wage so they can feed their kids.
It’s the newest way to keep my hands busy so I don’t have to think about the fact that everyone else is moving forward and somehow, I’m in my thirties now, trying to catch up and lonely as hell.
And I want what others have. To find love again.
Maybe, even to marry again someday. I do.
But maybe I don’t think I have the energy for it.
It’s been so fucking long. So long since I wanted a woman beneath me for more than just a night.
Since I craved cracking through her exterior, digging past her walls, sinking into the soft, pliant parts of her that she keeps hidden from everyone else.
So long since I wanted to prove a woman wrong.
I want to prove Alessia so wrong.
And so, I texted her. Foolishly. Recklessly. Something completely dirty that I knew would piss her off. And I regret none of it.
Her panties are in the corner; ruined now since I couldn’t wait any longer for her to come back. My release is still soaking through the delicate fabric and dripping into the hardwood floor like a crime scene of passion.
I should probably wash them.
But I won’t.
At least she knows I have them now.
Or maybe she remembered all along and didn’t care.
And now, I’m back downstairs. Stretched out on the couch, watching the fire die down with light crackles sending shadows spilling across the living room wall.
I’m still shirtless, sweatpants pushed down low on my hips.
The table I was building for her and my cousin is somewhere outside in the darkness of my backyard.
Probably getting ruined by the snow now.
I check the time again. It’s been two damn hours since she left.
The sun’s set, the cold February night pressing in. It’s only nine, but it’s pitch dark. And all I can think about is how much I miss her.
I’ve never felt lonely before in this house.
It used to be filled with Rhiannon and Eden’s voices.
Their friends and mine coming and going at any time of the day.
But lately, I’ve noticed it’s gotten quieter and colder and though I could go next door to visit my sister, her husband and my niece at any point, well, there’s something profound in accepting the silence of my new phase of life.
That doesn’t change the way I miss her in the quietness.
Suddenly, the key I gave her this morning slides into the lock. The bolt clicks out of place and the front door creaks open.
I don’t turn yet. I don’t move to see who it is though I know it’s her.
Partly because I’m fucking pissed it took her this long to ditch her date. And partly because I know she’s pissed at me too.
I feel her before I see her. She’s an electric pulse through the air, a crackle even sharper than the flames.
She makes her presence known by slamming her purse onto the hardwood floor by the doorway with a loud thud. Her heels follow, kicked off hard enough to dent the drywall that I’ve recently painted.
I smile. That’ll be more work for me later, but I don’t mind. I’ll do that project while thinking about this night with a smile on my face.
Then she storms forward, her steps are heavy until she’s stopping right in front of me, letting the firelight cast her in an unholy glow like a fucking angel and devil in one.
She’s still in that dress I zipped her into.
It hugs every curve, shows off her full chest and wide hips, but it’s not as pristine as it was before she left. She looks more undone.
Her cheeks are flushed, brown hair a mess—like she ran from the restaurant instead of taking the car that I heard pull up. Her brown eyes are burning with anger.
That’s okay. I’ll fuck that out of her too.
Without a word, she reaches down into her discarded purse and pulls out fabric. Her panties. Ruined, I’m certain. Then she twists them around her fingers until she’s sling shotting them straight into my face.
They hit my mouth with a soft, damp smack and then flop onto my chest where they rest. I don’t pick them up.
I don’t even look at them. I leave them there.
I can smell her on them. Her soaked pussy.
My grin spreads. It’s slow at first, then wider.
Wilder until it’s practically manic and I know I look like a menace.
“They’re ruined,” she declares. As if I didn’t already know they would be. That was the entire plan.
I pick them off my chest, twirling them around one finger before bunching them in my palm and lifting them to my nose, inhaling extra hard.
Her scent—her—coils around my senses, dragging my body to a razor’s edge. I might have already come twice tonight, but with Aly, third time seems to be the charm. Then, eyes locked on hers, I press them between my teeth and bite down until I hear a soft tear.
Her lips part, eyes go wide. “What the actual fuck is wrong with—”
But she doesn’t get to finish that sentence. Because now that she’s here, I’m making up for earlier tonight. I promised her I’d make her come if she came back and I always keep my promises.
I push off the couch quickly until I’m in her face hands gripping her neck, lips crashing against hers, stealing her question in a kiss so punishing I know she can feel it everywhere.
And there’s no hesitation. She’s kissing me back; hands wrapped around my neck as I hold her tight to my body, lifting her until she’s off the ground.
And I don’t plan on letting her go anytime soon.