Chapter 17
Gabriel
I wake up to warmth. Not the sticky, uncomfortable warmth of summer nights when the sheets cling to your skin, but the kind of warmth that seeps into your bones and makes you want to stay exactly where you are forever.
Marshall’s arms are wrapped around me, one hand splayed across my chest, the other tucked under my side.
His breath is steady against the back of my neck, and I can feel the solid weight of him pressed against me.
Content. That’s the word. I feel content like I’ve never felt in my life.
I don’t move, just lie here and let myself feel it, this perfect moment where everything makes sense.
The morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room.
I can hear birds outside, the distant sound of water lapping against the dock, but it all feels like background noise next to Marshall holding me.
Carefully, I shift in his arms, turning over so I’m facing him. He doesn’t wake, his breathing still deep and even, and I take the opportunity to study his face.
He looks younger when he’s asleep. The lines around his eyes are smoothed out, the tension that usually lives in his jaw completely gone.
His hair is a mess, sticking up in different directions, and there’s a crease on his cheek from the pillow.
His lips are slightly parted, and I remember the way they felt against mine last night, the way he kissed me like he’d been starving for it.
I could look at him like this for hours.
Several minutes pass, maybe five, maybe ten. I lose track of time, just watching the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyelashes rest against his cheeks, the small freckle near his temple that I never noticed before.
Then he stirs.
His breathing changes, growing shallower. His eyelids flutter, and then they open, revealing those dark gray depths that have been haunting me for years.
He blinks at me, looking dazed and confused, as if he’s trying to remember where he is.
“You’re still here,” he mumbles, his voice rough with sleep.
I can’t help but chuckle. “You’re in my bed,” I point out.
He blinks again, processing this information. “Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
His eyes focus on my face. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I reach up and brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you think I’m going to bolt.”
Marshall’s jaw tightens, and I see the vulnerability flash across his face before he can hide it. “Are you?”
“Of course not.” I shift against him and feel the uncomfortable crust of dried cum on my stomach and thighs. The reminder of last night sends heat through me. “Shower?”
Marshall raises an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”
I grin and slide out of bed, completely naked, and glance at him over my shoulder. “Follow me and find out.”
I don’t wait to see if he’s coming. I just walk toward the bathroom door, putting a little extra swing in my hips because I know he’s watching. I hear the sheets rustle behind me, then the sound of his feet hitting the floor.
The bathroom is bright with morning sun streaming through the frosted window. I turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right, and step inside. The hot water hits my skin and I groan, tilting my head back to let it soak my hair.
The glass door opens and Marshall steps in behind me. The shower is big enough for two, but he crowds me anyway, pressing his chest against my back, his hands sliding around my waist.
“Good morning,” he murmurs against my ear.
“Morning.” I lean back into him, feeling the heat of his skin through the water. His cock is half-hard against my lower back, and mine is responding, filling out with interest.
Marshall’s hands roam over my stomach, my chest, tracing the lines of muscle and bone. One hand slides lower, wrapping around my cock, and I gasp.
“W-what are you doing?”
“You’re the one who invited me into your shower.” His voice is rough, his grip firm as he strokes me slowly from base to tip. “What did you think was going to happen?”
I don’t have an answer. I just push back against him, feeling his cock fully hard now, pressing between my ass cheeks.
Marshall groans and turns me around, reaching down to wrap his hand around both our cocks. The feeling is overwhelming, heat and pressure and slick skin sliding together. He strokes us both with firm, steady movements, and I have to grasp his muscled shoulders to keep myself upright.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“You feel like heaven,” Marshall says against my ear. His other arm wraps around my waist, holding me against him while he works us both. “Can’t get enough of you.”
I’m already close, my body greedy for more. The sensation of our cocks sliding together, the pressure of Marshall’s hand, the heat of the water cascading over us. It’s all too much.
“Marshall,” I gasp. “I’m going to—”
“Me too.” His strokes get faster. “Come for me, baby.”
The endearment pushes me over the edge. I come with a shout, spilling over Marshall’s hand and both our stomachs, and a second later Marshall pulses against me, his release mixing with mine.
We stand there for a moment, panting, the water washing away the evidence of what we just did. Marshall’s arm is still wrapped around my waist, holding me up, and I’m grateful for it because I’m not sure my legs would support me on their own.
“Fuck,” I say again, eloquent as always.
Marshall chuckles and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Yeah.”
We finish showering properly, soaping up and rinsing off, hands wandering. When we’re clean, we step out and dry off, and then we brush our teeth standing side by side at the sink, meeting each other’s eyes in the mirror. It’s domestic and normal, and I didn’t know I wanted this until right now.
When we’re done, we head downstairs. Marshall is wearing sweatpants and nothing else, and I’ve pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt. Morning sun fills the kitchen, and I go straight to the espresso machine while Marshall opens the fridge.
“What do you want for breakfast?”
“Whatever you’re making.”
He nods, pulling out eggs and bacon.
We work in companionable silence, Marshall cracking eggs into a bowl while I make coffee. The smell of it fills the kitchen, followed by the sizzle of bacon hitting the hot pan. I watch Marshall move around with easy confidence, and something in my chest swells.
This is what I want. This quiet morning routine with him. This partnership.
But when I glance at Marshall’s face, I see the tension creeping back in. His jaw is tight again, his shoulders stiff, and he’s staring at the eggs like they contain the secrets of the universe.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, setting down my coffee cup.
He doesn’t look up. “Nothing.”
“Marshall.”
He flips the bacon with more force than necessary. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” I cross to him and put my hand on his arm, making him look at me. “Talk to me.”
He sets down the spatula and turns to face me fully. There’s uncertainty written all over his face, mixing with something that looks like fear.
“I just…” He runs a hand through his damp hair. “I don’t know what this means for you.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Last night, I told you…” He swallows hard. “I told you how I felt about you. About why I’ve been avoiding you all these years.” His eyes search my face. “And then we had sex, and it was incredible, but I just… I don’t know what it means for you. If it was just sex, or if—”
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
I realize that I never actually told him. After his confession on the porch, after he laid his heart bare, I just launched myself at him, never saying anything.
“Marshall.” I step closer and wrap my arms around his waist. “I need to tell you something.”
He goes still in my arms.
“I’ve always felt the pull toward you,” I say, the words coming easier than I expected. “Since the first time I met you. I remember thinking you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.”
Marshall’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t speak.
“But I knew it wasn’t possible.” I press my forehead against his, needing the contact.
“You were straight, dating girls. And you were my stepbrother, which made the whole thing even more fucked up.” I take a breath.
“So I kept my distance and my inappropriate thoughts to myself, and I tried really hard not to think about you that way.”
“Gabriel—”
“And then you got married.” The words come out rough.
“And it hurt so much, Marshall. Seeing you with her. Knowing you’d chosen someone, that you were building a life with her, and I had no right to feel the way I felt.
” I pull back just enough to look at his face.
“So I kept even more distance. I made excuses not to come to family events. I threw myself into work. I dated—”
I stop, the realization hitting me fully for the first time.
“All of my messy relationships,” I continue slowly. “All the guys like Blaine who were wrong for me in every possible way. I realize now they were just attempts to forget. To bury the inappropriate feelings I had for my stepbrother.”
Marshall is staring at me with wide eyes, his lips parted. He looks stunned, as if I’ve just told him the sky is green and the grass is blue.
“What are you saying?” His voice is barely above a whisper.
I reach up and cup his face with both hands, making sure he’s looking at me, making sure he hears this.
“I’m saying I’ve always had feelings for you, Marshall.
Even though I didn’t allow myself to acknowledge them fully.
Even though I tried really hard to pretend they didn’t exist.” I brush my thumb over his cheekbone. “But they did exist. They do exist.”
For a moment, he just stares at me. I can see him processing my words, see the emotions flickering across his face: shock, relief, something that looks like joy.
Then he wraps his arms around me and kisses me hard, his mouth crashing into mine. I part my lips, moaning into the kiss, and Marshall takes full advantage. His tongue slides against mine, claiming, possessing, and I melt into him.
His hands grip my hips, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing, setting me on the edge of the kitchen table. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and the kiss deepens. We’re both hard again, our cocks pressing together through our clothes, and I grind against him shamelessly.
Marshall groans into my mouth and his hands slide under my shirt, his palms hot against my bare skin. I arch into his touch, wanting more. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, and he makes a sound that’s half growl, half moan.
We’re so immersed in each other that neither of us hears the back door open.
We only hear the shocked gasp.
Marshall and I break apart, both of us breathing hard, and turn toward the sound.
Blaine is standing in the doorway, his hand on the doorknob, staring at us with an expression of complete shock. His mouth is hanging open, eyes wide, and he’s frozen in place like someone pressed pause on him.
Fuck.
I pull away from Marshall and slide off the table, my hands going to adjust my shirt.
Blaine’s shock morphs into something that looks like fury. “What the hell is going on here?” His voice is sharp, cutting through the silence.
Marshall tenses beside me, his whole body going rigid. I can feel him shifting into protective mode, preparing to step forward.
But this is my battle, not his.
I put a gentle hand on Marshall’s shoulder and step between him and Blaine. “What are you doing here?” I ask, keeping my voice level despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
Blaine’s eyes are blazing. “I came to speak to you.” He looks between me and Marshall, his gaze sharp and assessing. “Clearly I’m interrupting something.”
“You are.” I cross my arms over my chest. “And I have nothing to talk to you about.”
“Clearly.” Blaine’s eyes linger on Marshall for a long moment before returning to me. “Does Philip know about this?” He gestures between the two of us.
Marshall crosses his arms over his chest, mirroring my posture. “It’s none of your business.”
Blaine’s face flushes red. “Philip is my old friend. We’ve known each other for decades.” His voice grows louder. “And if his sons are engaging in such… depravity, I have no choice but to tell him.”
The color drains from my face. I glance at Marshall, and he looks livid. I can see him holding himself back from lunging at Blaine.
I step toward Blaine, my own anger rising to meet his. I’m so fucking done with this man’s manipulations, his games, his constant attempts to control me.
“You should mind your own business and leave us alone. What Marshall and I do is none of your concern. We’re both adults. We can make our own choices.”
Blaine’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. He clearly wasn’t expecting me to talk back to him like this. He’s used to me being accommodating, agreeable, easy to manipulate.
Not anymore.
“You—” Blaine sputters. “You can’t speak to me like that.”
“I just did.” I take another step forward, and Blaine actually backs up toward the door. “You need to leave. Now. And you need to stop showing up here uninvited. Whatever we had is over. It’s been over. And I’m not going to tolerate you pestering me or Marshall anymore.”
Blaine’s face cycles through several emotions: shock, anger, something that might be hurt. He takes another step back, his hand finding the doorknob.
“This isn’t over,” he says, his voice tight. “You’re going to regret talking to me like that, Gabriel. Both of you will.”
“Get out,” I say.
Blaine glares at me for another long moment, then turns and storms out of the kitchen. The door slams behind him, rattling the windows. We stand in silence, listening to his footsteps retreating, then the sound of a boat engine starting up and pulling away from the dock.
When the sound fades completely, Marshall looks at me and says, “That was kind of hot.”
Despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips. “Yeah, well. I’m not going to let him play mind games with me anymore.”
Marshall steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my face. “Do you think he’s going to tell Philip about us?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “He might.” I take a breath, the idea forming even as I speak. “But I was thinking that maybe… we should tell our parents about us. When we’re both ready, of course,” I add quickly.
Marshall’s eyes widen. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face. “I’d like that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, very much.” He pulls me closer. “I don’t want to hide this.”
The words crack something open in my chest, something warm and overwhelming. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me.
“Me neither,” I whisper against his lips.