25. Gabriel
Gabriel
In the aftermath, Alexis clings to me, her breaths hot and uneven against my collarbone.
I’m still buried inside her. Her pussy is warm and tight around my softening cock. Her legs are wrapped around my hips, her back pressed to the table, arched ever-so-slightly with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
She’s panting. I’m panting. Stars dance in my peripheral vision as I carefully pull out of her with a quiet groan I’m unable to stifle. I’m not sure I’ve ever come that hard in my life.
A trail of cum spills down her inner thigh, and her breath hitches.
I reach for one of Liora’s expensive, embroidered napkins and fold it to clean her up, careful to keep my touch light since I’m sure she’s incredibly sensitive.
Once I’m done, I lean over her, taking in her dazed expression.
A smile tugs at my lips as I press them to hers.
“How was that?” I ask quietly.
She offers me a shaky grin. “I feel… amazing.”
I help her into an upright position, and she blinks, visibly disoriented. When she tries to slip off the table and stand, her knees buckle. I catch her, alarmed.
“You okay?”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. I’m… I’m good. Just… whoa. That was incredible.”
A primal sense of pride rises in my chest. I set her back on the edge of the table, then scour the floor nearby for her scattered clothes.
I help her back into her blouse, and she slips on her pants.
Once she’s fully clothed again, I gather my own clothes and pull them back on, shrugging my suit jacket back over my shoulders.
“What now?” she says, her voice still a little shaky.
“Now… I’m hungry. You hungry, sunshine?”
She chuckles, then yelps as I scoop her back up into my arms. I carry her bridal style toward the double doors of the kitchen.
“Are we even allowed back here?” she protests weakly.
“It’s my property now,” I remind her. “So it’s my kitchen.
” I push the doors open. Liora’s kitchen space is empty and quiet.
All of the staff left when I closed the restaurant.
I turn on the lights, and they buzz to life, casting a fluorescent glow over the stainless steel counters and gas stovetops.
I set Alexis on one of the gleaming silver prep tables and make my way over to the walk-in fridge. She laughs as I step inside and start to peruse the shelves.
“You think they included all the ingredients in the deal?” she asks playfully.
“I would be very surprised if the old owner wants to come back and lay claim to the produce.” I tap my chin thoughtfully, then select some freshly prepared ingredients from the shelves—a container of sliced avocados, a plastic tub of diced tomatoes, a bundle of cilantro.
“Looks like we’ve got a good selection here. ”
Alexis swings her legs lightly from the prep table, her eyes sparkling with amusement. As I set my selections on the counter next to one of the cooking surfaces, I find myself sharing in her fun.
It’s been a long time, I realize, since I’ve had this much fun.
“How do we feel about avocado toast?” I ask, glancing over at her.
“I could go for some avocado toast,” she says.
I root around in a nearby pantry for some bread. Since this is Liora, they only have the best. I find a thick loaf of sourdough with a firm, crackling crust. It’s still warm, probably baked this morning.
I carve four slices from the bread and pop them into a toaster. As I do, I can feel her eyes on me, watching me cook.
“So,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. “What’s the verdict?”
“Huh?” She shakes herself a bit. She was staring at me in a daze, I realize.
I can’t resist my smirk. “The sex. How was it?”
“Oh.” A flush creeps over her cheeks, a pink tide that rushes to surround her freckles. “I’m… I’m still processing, to be honest. I mean, um…”
“Do you feel different now that you’re not a virgin anymore?”
She grins. “Well, I feel different right now. Not sure if that has to do with my virginity or—”
“Or the afterglow,” I say.
A laugh bubbles out of her. “Right. That.” She leans forward, her palms pressed against the steel counter. “Wow. I’ll be honest, I never thought my first time would be…”
“What? In a restaurant?” I flash her a sideways glance, still smirking. “On a table? Seven hundred feet above Los Angeles?”
“Any of those,” she admits. “Or that it would be…” She trails off, her gaze falling to the ground as if she’s gathering her thoughts.
I lean against the counter, folding my arms, a quiet smile playing at my lips. “That it would be that good?”
She huffs, her cheeks glowing with an even deeper shade of crimson. “You’re so cocky, you know that?”
I chuckle, feeling the warmth spread through me at the sight of her blush, a mixture of pride and tenderness swelling in my chest. I lean in a little closer, savoring the moment before speaking.
“Yes,” I say with a touch of mock arrogance, my voice low and playful. “I do know that. But I’m still glad you enjoyed it. You did, right?”
She folds her arms, attempting to look disapproving, but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Yes,” she relents. “It was incredible.”
“So you liked it,” I say. “You’ll leave me a good review, I hope.”
“Sure. Five stars. Would fuck again.”
I snort a laugh, turning back to the toaster to remove the sourdough. I start to butter one side of each slice.
“I guess I don’t really care about my ‘virginity,’ or anything like that,” she confesses.
“I wasn’t saving myself for marriage on purpose.
It just never happened for me before.” She pauses, then adds, somewhat sheepishly, “I’ve read a lot of spicy scenes in my books.
It wasn’t like those, and that was pretty much all I had to go on, in terms of expectations. ”
“Was it better?”
“Yeah.” I can hear the smile in her tone. “Much better.”
“Good.” I scoop avocado slices onto the toast and begin to smear them across the rough surface. “Because if it wasn’t, I was going to have to take it up a notch.”
She giggles, the sound light and airy, but then it fades, and in its place, a thoughtful silence settles between us.
I can feel the shift as clearly as if the air itself has changed.
She fidgets slightly, her fingers toying with the hem of her sleeve, and when she speaks again, her voice is tentative. “How was it for you?”
I pause, the knife hovering over the toast. I can tell by her tone, by the way her laughter died down, that this is weighing on her mind. That the answer to this question is of utmost importance to her.
“For me?” I glance at her, lifting the knife to lick avocado from the flat of the blade. I raise an eyebrow, and she lets out a quiet breath. “It was incredible. But I think you knew that.”
Her eyes flicker to mine, and her lips part as she exhales a quiet, shaky breath. “Yeah,” she murmurs, almost apologetic.
I give her an almost wicked grin. “Could you not tell I came so hard I was seeing stars?” I tease, savoring the slight flush that deepens on her cheeks at the reminder.
Her eyes widen just a fraction, but then I see it—that subtle release of tension.
Her shoulders drop, her posture softens, and the faint furrow between her brows smooths out.
She looks relieved, and that confirms exactly what I suspected.
This question wasn’t just curiosity. It was her seeking reassurance.
She wanted to know she’d satisfied me, like my pleasure was something she was responsible for, something she had to earn.
And that doesn’t sit right with me. At all.
I want her to feel desired for who she is, not because she hit some invisible mark of performance.
I want her to know that what’s happening between us isn’t a test she has to pass, or some standard she has to live up to.
It’s not something she has to earn. She already has me completely undone, just by being herself.
“Hey.” I set down the knife and turn toward her, wiping crumbs from my hands on a kitchen towel. “You don’t ever have to think about that, okay? You don’t have to measure it or keep score. Just enjoy yourself.”
Her teeth worry at her lower lip. “But I—I mean, it was my first time. I’m not sure I know what I’m doing, and—”
“You were amazing,” I tell her, tossing the towel aside to give her my full attention. “Seriously. You’re a natural. There’s no reason to doubt yourself.”
She glances away, a shy smile gracing her lips. “Glad I met your standards,” she says. “I imagined they were pretty high, what with your… experience.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Well, I haven’t actually had sex in a while,” I admit.
Her head jerks up, and the look she gives me is pure incredulity. “Wait. Seriously?” Her brows lift, eyes wide.
I shrug, stretching up to the cabinets above my head to search for a plate. “Yeah. It’s been a minute.”
Her expression shifts from surprise to something else. Curiosity, maybe even a hint of disbelief. Like she’s trying to reconcile the image she has of me with what I’ve just said. She blinks a few times, processing my words, then looks away as though to gather her thoughts.
I find a simple white plate and set it down on the counter.
The kitchen is quiet except for the small noises of my movements as I start arranging the slices of toast. I reach for the diced tomatoes, sprinkling them over the creamy avocado spread, then add a few sprigs of cilantro for garnish.
It’s not exactly up to Liora’s usual standards, but it’ll do for now.
For this strange, intimate, post-sex meal we’re sharing.
“The truth is,” I say after a beat, my gaze still fixed on the plate, “after Melanie died, I was in a fog for a while. A long while. I didn’t really…
do much of anything back then. Didn’t feel like I could.
” My throat tightens, but I keep going, forcing myself to give her this truth.
“And when I finally started to come out of it, my focus was all on Peyton. Making sure she was okay. Trying to do right by her.”
“Of course,” Alexis says.
“I guess I put my own needs on the back burner. For years, really,” I confess as I finish arranging the toast. I turn and bring the plate over to the central prep table where she’s perched, setting it down with a little clink.
“I took care of myself in the shower sometimes when I wasn’t too exhausted.
But it wasn’t… it wasn’t about anything more than that. Just survival mode.”
I didn’t mean to make my meaning obvious—that Alexis is the first person I’ve had sex with since Melanie—but she seems to pick up on it regardless.
I can see the realization dawning on her, and her lips part as though she’s about to say something.
Instead, she leans in and presses a featherlight kiss to my cheek, her lips warm against my skin.
The simple tenderness of it undoes me in a way nothing else could. I turn my head, capturing her lips with mine before she can pull away, savoring the sweetness of her breath and the softness that feels like it’s wrapping around all the raw places inside me.
When we part, she exhales shakily. Her fingers curl lightly into the fabric of my shirt, anchoring herself.
“Even though I know this marriage won’t be forever,” she whispers, her voice trembling just the faintest bit, “I’m glad it was you. My first time. I’m really glad.”
Her words hit me harder than I expect. I smile, but something twists in my gut, sharp and unrelenting. Because as much as I want to tell myself that this arrangement has a clean expiration date, hearing her say it out loud makes something deep in my chest clench painfully.
“So am I,” I murmur, my thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. I reach up and tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, my touch lingering longer than necessary. “I’m glad it’s you too.”