Chapter 18 #2
My fingers play with his hair, as he fondles one breast while his teeth graze the other.
The ache low in my belly sharpens, and I can barely stay upright.
“Gabe…bed.”
He lifts his face, a flicker of a smile, but what catches me off guard is the tenderness.
It’s almost too much, so I press my lips and demand a deep kiss.
He complies, but within seconds, as his tongue plunders my mouth, my feet are in the air. He settles me onto the bed, and looks down at me, on top of the comforter, still in my jeans.
“Tell me if I go too fast.”
“Not possible.” I grin. “Right now, you’re going too slow.”
I don’t know how he reacts, because I’m reaching for him, for the button on his pants. But he brushes my hands away and instead reaches for my jeans.
I lift my hips, helping him.
I don’t know if he means to strip me entirely of clothes, but the panties go with the jeans, as do my socks.
His gaze roams over my bare skin. “You are so beautiful.”
“Gabe—”
“No,” he interrupts. “You are. And I’m going to take my time showing you.”
I want him so badly, slow isn’t how I want it.
But the way he’s looking at me, it’s clear he’s not in a rush.
The tips of his fingers trail my thighs, over my hips.
I spread my thighs slightly, but he’s already past that juncture, to my waist, my stomach. Both hands cup my breasts from the sides, bringing them together.
The hot heat of his mouth takes one nipple.
My thighs clench.
“Gabe,” I breathe.
He lifts his head. “Yeah?”
“I need—” He pinches a nipple and I can’t finish.
“What do you need?”
“More.”
His smile is slow and devastating. “I can do that.”
My skin tingles in the wake of his path, down, down, until he traces the inside of my thighs. When his fingers brush my center, I arch off the bed.
“Christ,” he breathes. “You’re so wet.”
“Please—”
One finger travels up my center, then dips inside.
I close my eyes.
He’s getting closer to the need.
His thumb presses down over my clit, as a second finger joins the first, lightly thrusting.
“Look at me,” he says.
I force my eyes open, breath uneven.
“I want to watch you closely.” His pace increases. “Learn what you like.”
His thumb circles, the pressure just right.
“That,” I push out. “Right there.”
“That’s good.”
There’s a smile, but he’s still so fucking deliberate and controlled.
He withdraws his hand and licks both fingers clean.
I’m speechless.
Then he lifts me, spinning me on the bed, and spreads my thighs.
Before I can say anything, he’s between my legs.
And Jesus.
I arch up on the bed as his fingers join his tongue.
The pressure on my clit is…
I toy with his hair, watching as he adds a second finger, more pressure…
This is Gabe. Mouth on me. Fingers in me.
And it’s fucking…
The orgasm rolls through me, my thigh muscles tightening, my toes curling, back arching, and the strangled sound that comes out doesn’t even sound like me.
He doesn’t stop. No, he drags it out, coaxing the aftershocks with light passes of his tongue until I’m trembling.
“Jesus,” I gasp.
He presses his lips to my inner thigh, then trails kisses up to my breasts.
He’s standing between my legs that are dangling over the bed, and he tugs at the comforter, shifting it, and me, closer, until he’s kissing me.
Not content with my lips, he nips along my neck. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”
“Your turn,” I manage, pushing at his shoulders.
“Not yet.”
“Gabe—”
“I’ve waited years for this,” he says, like he’s still half in disbelief that it’s happening. “I’m not rushing.”
He moves lower, kissing my stomach, my hip, the inside of my thigh.
I push up, determined, reaching his jeans.
“Fair is fair.” I unbuckle his belt, hands shaking slightly. “You’re not the only one who has waited.”
He takes over, pushing his jeans and briefs down and stepping out of them.
I push back on the bed, back up to the pillows, making room for him.
Without me saying a word, he understands.
The mattress dips with his weight, as he climbs to join me, placing himself at my side.
He takes my lips, but it’s my turn to explore.
I trace along his side with a specific destination in mind. My fingers wrap around him and he inhales sharply.
He’s bigger than I imagined. His skin’s soft, stretched, and tight. The pad of my thumb smooths over his crown, spreading precum.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
“Sensitive?” I tease.
“You have no idea.”
I stroke him, following his cue, slow at first, learning what makes his eyelids shut, what makes his hips jerk.
“Evie,” he grits out. “If you keep doing that—”
“What?”
“I won’t last.”
I release him and suck my thumb clean.
His eyes darken.
“Then don’t wait.”
He reaches for his wallet, pulls out a condom, and rolls it on with practiced ease.
Then he’s back, settling between my thighs, and I feel him there—hot and hard and perfect.
We both watch as he glides the tip back and forth through my slit.
“Last chance,” he grunts, and for a second, everything goes still. “We can still stop.”
“Don’t you dare.”
He pushes in, and I gasp at the stretch.
“Okay?”
My hips buck up in answer.
But he doesn’t move.
“Gabe.”
It’s a complaint. A command. And it’s enough to get him moving.
He sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated, and we both exhale.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel—”
“I know.”
He kisses me and I lift my legs, wrapping around him.
When he pushes up, I trace his straining biceps, and he starts to move.
Slow. Careful.
I don’t want careful.
I rock my hips against him, meeting him with each thrust, squeezing, tightening my muscles.
“Evie—”
“More.”
He lifts my leg over his shoulder, seating himself impossibly deeper.
His hips snap forward, harder now, faster.
The bed creaks. The headboard thuds against the wall.
“I’ve wanted this,” he says between thrusts. “For so long.”
“Me too.”
“You were in my head,” he continues, voice rough. “Every goddamn day.”
“You were in my dreams.”
He nips at my ankle and lowers my leg, lowering over me.
He kisses me, swallowing my moans, and the angle shifts, hitting something deep inside that makes me see stars.
“There,” I gasp. “Right there.”
He adjusts, driving into that spot again and again, and I’m climbing, spiraling, gasping—
“God. You are so tight,” he says. “So close. I want to feel you.”
He lifts.
His thumb presses down, finding that spot, right there.
And I shatter.
Not just from sensation—but from the realization that this changes everything.
“Look at me.”
And I do.
Directly.
The orgasm rips through me, muscles clenching around him, and with a few more hard, erratic thrusts he follows with a choked groan, hips stuttering as he comes.
He collapses over me, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat.
“Fuck you feel good,” he breathes against my neck.
I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight.
Disbelief hits first—that this happened.
That a naked Gabe is over me—still inside me.
He shifts, rolling to the side, the movement causing him to pull out of me.
But his tongue probes and I let him in, meeting him with a kiss that confirms there’s no regret.
When he returns after disposing of the condom, I’ve climbed under the comforter, but I hold it up for him to join me. He does so without hesitation, pulling me against him.
“You okay?” he asks before pressing his lips to my temple.
“More than okay.”
He kisses my forehead. “Good.”
“Maybe a little shocked.”
“Good shock?”
I grin. “Yes. Good.” I trace the scar on his shoulder. “What’s this from?”
“Deployment. Long story.”
“One on your side too?”
“Yep.”
“Tell me sometime?”
“Yeah,” he promises. “Sometime.”
We lie there in the fading light, his hand stroking my back, my head on his chest.
The room settles around us—the soft tick of the radiator, the faint sound of water somewhere in the walls. Gabe’s arm is heavy across my waist, anchoring me, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles against my skin like he’s grounding himself as much as me.
I should feel lighter.
For a few minutes, I do. Weightless, almost. The kind of quiet I haven’t let myself have in longer than I can remember.
Scott’s going to have opinions. I decide, with my head on Gabe’s chest, that I don’t care.
Then, without my permission, my mind starts working again.
I tilt my head, listening—for anything out of place. Footsteps in the hall. A voice outside the door. The echo of that café, the men who appeared from out of thin air. Of all the crimes, the basest, most evil is human trafficking. And if they’re tracking me, then I’m close.
Outside, a siren wails in the distance—brief, distant, gone almost as soon as it arrives.
My phone sits dark on the nightstand.
I don’t check it.
I simply hold onto Gabe. I know with absolute clarity that loving this man won’t slow me down or soften my edges. But having him in my life—fully in my life—will make everything sharper.
Higher stakes.
Fewer mistakes allowed.
I turn slightly, fitting myself closer to him, memorizing the weight of his arm, the warmth of his body, the quiet certainty of him beside me.
Whatever comes next—whatever waits beyond this room—it won’t just touch me anymore.
It will touch him too.
And somewhere out there, someone already knows that. The worst of the worst.
And they’re watching.