by Alexis Daria
Ava’s shoulders hunched with guilt and Jasmine rounded back on Michelle. “When I told you not to tell Ava about me and Ashton, you flat out refused.”
Affronted, Ava put a hand on her hip and turned to Jasmine. “You told Michelle not to tell me about you and Ashton?”
“I was in denial about my feelings,” Jasmine said with a shrug. Then she shook her head at Michelle. “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed. But I’m also mad.”
Ashton Suarez, Jasmine’s boyfriend and an award-winning telenovela star, appeared over her shoulder. “Hola, primas,” he said, then extended a hand to Gabe. “¿Cómo estás? I’m Ashton Suarez.”
Gabe shook his hand. “Gabriel Aguilar.”
“Jasmine said you own a gym?”
“I do. Agility Gym in Los Angeles.”
Ashton nodded. “I’ve heard of it. If you ever open a location in New York, let me know. Vamos, Jasmine. I think your abuela is looking for us.”
As Ashton led Jasmine away, Michelle nudged Gabe and gave him a meaningful look. “Potential testimonial?” she whispered.
He had a speculative look on his face. “Maybe . . .”
They danced more together, and took turns dancing with Michelle’s niece and nephew, then found their seats once the festivities got underway. Michelle sat at a round table with Gabe and her parents, plus her older sister, Monica, Monica’s husband, and their three kids. Her brother, Junior, was out of town, so his family wasn’t there.
Monica was the only one who’d taken Gabe’s presence in stride.
“I always figured this would happen someday,” she’d said, but Michelle didn’t get to ask her why.
Ronnie’s stepdaughter looked beautiful in a hot-pink princess dress, but still so young, as she went through some choreographed dance routines with her friends. The kids were great, and you could hardly tell three of them had been crying not half an hour earlier—gossip courtesy of Michelle’s chismosa mother.
Michelle looked at Gabe seated next to her, remembering when they were fifteen. Back then, she’d felt like she knew it all, like she was practically a grown-up. But that was also the year they’d started writing Celestial Destiny, two kids still playing out their favorite stories. They’d been so young. And now here they were, playing out another story.
The food was good, the music was great, and Michelle found herself having a genuinely good time. But she’d underestimated the number of people who claimed to be so excited that she finally had a boyfriend. It had never bothered her before that her family was obsessed with marriage and kids, or that they acted like she was weird because she’d never once brought a significant other to a family event. In fact, that was why she never told anyone, not even Ava or Jasmine, when she was fooling around with someone. If you wanted to keep a secret in this family, you kept it to yourself.
As she’d planned to do with Gabe. Except now every-damn-body in her family knew about him. Which meant that after he left, every-damn-body would ask about him for the rest of her life. It had been bad enough when they’d been younger and her relatives inferred he was actually her boyfriend. She’d known the truth. And after he left and people still asked about him, her mother had intervened, warning all the tías not to mention his name.
This was going to be a hundred times worse.
By the end of the night, Michelle’s ability to maintain her good humor was being severely tested. After she said goodbye to everyone she was related to, and gave the birthday girl a hug, Gabe pulled her aside.
“Hey, are you okay?” His brows knit with concern. “You seem down.”
She let out a long sigh. “I feel like we just fucked this up more by involving all of them. It feels too real, Gabe.”
“It is real,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. “Just for this weekend. Let it be real.”
How was she supposed to argue with that? Especially when he leaned down to kiss her deeply.
In the background, no less than three people whistled and someone else let out a grito. It was like the Latinx version of an audience reaction when the actors kissed on a sitcom.
Michelle broke away and grabbed Gabe’s hand. “Let’s get out of here. I’m tired of having an audience, and I have big plans for you tonight.”
Chapter 18
Gabe paused in the doorway of the hotel room. “There’s only one bed.”
“I know.” Michelle swept past him and sat in a high-backed armchair to swap her heels for indoor chanclas. “I wasn’t expecting to share the room with anyone, and with so many of my relatives hanging around in the lobby, it would have looked suspicious if I’d asked to change it.”
Gabe watched her carefully as she bustled around, noting her body language and nonverbal cues. She was doing her la la la, I don’t have a care in the world act, which meant there was something she wasn’t saying. “Are you okay with that?”
“It’s fine.” Michelle pulled her toiletry bag out of her suitcase.
“I can call downstairs and ask them to book me a separate room if you want privacy.”
“No need.” With a toss of her hair, she carried the toiletry bag to the bathroom at the other end of the room and shut herself inside. The lock clicked behind her.
Huh. That wasn’t convincing.
Gabe closed the hotel room door behind him, then turned to study the bed. It was a king-size mattress with an enormous wooden headboard. Definitely big enough for both of them, and it faced a Victorian-style wood-mantled fireplace. It couldn’t be more romantic if he’d planned it. But as much as he wanted to fall asleep cuddled against her and wake together all warm and cozy before starting the day, Michelle had been clear: she did not sleep in the same bed with sexual partners. He didn’t want her to do something she didn’t want simply because of circumstance, because of a lie he’d told his father. If that was her way of keeping distance between them, he had to respect it. After all, he was leaving in a few days, although he had yet to buy a new return ticket to Los Angeles.
He thought back to what he’d told her at the venue.
It is real. Just for this weekend.
If it was real, did that mean sharing a bed? It seemed strange that this was the line they hadn’t crossed, but nothing was normal about their situation.
Shit, maybe she was letting him stay because she was worried about hurting his feelings or something like that. The thought made his stomach sink, and he crossed the room, raising his voice so she’d hear him through the bathroom door. “I’m just saying, you’ve already gone above and beyond helping me keep the gym a secret from my dad, so if you want me to—”
“I said it’s fine, Gabe! Relax!”
She sounded annoyed, so he let it go and tried to take her advice.
Relax. Okay, he could do that.
He removed the ill-fitting dress shirt—the department store tailors had done the best they could in limited time, but he missed his own tailor in LA—and the pants that fit better than he’d expected. He hung them up and pulled on a pair of basketball shorts, just in case Michelle changed her mind and kicked him out.
Shopping for his quinceañera attire with Michelle had reminded him of the old days. Sure, he’d tried to coax her into a dressing room with him more than once, which wasn’t something he’d done when they’d been teens wandering around Fordham Road in the Bronx or St. Mark’s Place in Manhattan looking for clothes. But they’d joked around and had a good time.
“Remember the makeover episode of Celestial Destiny?” she’d asked while he was trying on shirts at Macy’s.
“That chapter was your idea,” he’d reminded her from inside the fitting room stall. “During the interminable amnesia story line.”
“Hey, our readers loved the amnesia story line.”
“It lasted for seven episodes. And then you made me end it with a makeover.”
“I’d just gone back-to-school shopping with Jasmine and I thought it would be fun for Zack and Riva.”
“Fun in theory, but you forced me t
o watch hours of makeover shows on TV before I wrote it.”
“If I recall correctly, you had very strong opinions about pleated pants by the end of it,” she’d teased, and then snuck him a kiss when he’d stepped out to model yet another boxy button-down shirt.
Smiling at the memory, Gabe moved their suitcases closer to the wall, where they wouldn’t risk tripping over them if they got up during the night. There was something nice about having such an extensive shared history with someone he was . . . not dating, exactly, but . . .
Involved with. There. That sounded better than someone he was fucking, and even though they were definitely fucking, he’d be an idiot to think that was all that was going on here.
Michelle had been his first love, and while he’d later tried to dismiss those feelings as “just a crush,” they felt strikingly similar to—while also a pale shadow of—what he was experiencing now.
All he could do was stay in the moment with her for however long that moment lasted. And when it ended . . . well, he’d do what he’d always done. Throw himself back into his work.
While he waited for Michelle to come out, he examined the fireplace and found a remote control to turn it on. The night was cooler here in upstate New York than down in the city. Not cold enough for a fire, but he could leave it on low for atmosphere. The bathroom door opened and Gabe turned to ask Michelle if she wanted to order anything from room service, but the thought flew right out of his head when he saw her.
He didn’t know what to call what she was wearing. Lingerie, probably, but that seemed like too tame a word, evoking images of silk and lace.
Michelle was instead clad in some sort of . . . contraption. There was lace, yes, little black scraps of it, but the rest was made up of crisscrossing straps and ties that accentuated her curves and somehow cupped and lifted her breasts in a way that was truly magnificent.
“Cat got your tongue?” The words were teasing, but her smile was wicked, like she knew exactly what this outfit was doing to him.
“Did you buy this yesterday?” he asked, because let me worship you seemed like too much. During their shopping expedition, she’d ducked away while he was trying on pants, claiming she needed to go to the bathroom. She’d been gone a long time and it would’ve been rude to comment on it, so he hadn’t.
“I did.” Michelle strolled into the room slowly, wearing black high heels that she absolutely hadn’t been wearing at the party. “Do you believe me now when I say I don’t want you to get your own room?”
“I’m having trouble believing any of this.” Gabe closed the distance between them and reached for her hips, but at the last second he paused, not touching her. Instead, he hovered over her lush curves, his fingers nearly trembling with anticipation.
“You can touch me,” she whispered. “I want you to.”
Slowly, with reverence for the gift he was being given, Gabe rested his hands on her waist and looked his fill. The lacy bits were sheer, and he could see the outline of her dusky nipples and the shadow of neatly trimmed hair at the apex of her thighs. He skimmed his hands over her hips, letting his thumbs tug lightly on the satiny elastic straps, before he spun her around to get a view of her from behind.
Holy fuck.
The lacy panties were a thong, with a tiny triangle of black lace right at the top and straps outlining her fantastic ass.
With a strangled laugh, he slid his hands around her waist and dropped his head onto her shoulder, speaking into her neck.
“What’s all this for, Mich? I love it, but don’t think you need to do all this for me.”
He almost added, I love you in anything or nothing at all, but held his tongue.
She lifted a hand and stroked his cheek. “Like I said earlier, I have big plans for you tonight . . . if you’re up for it, that is.”
“Oh, I am up for anything.” He shifted his hips, letting her feel his erection against her ass.
She gave a little laugh, but he detected nerves. “I was hoping we could play out a fantasy of mine.”
“Tell me your fantasy, Mich,” he murmured, pressing kisses to her neck. Whatever it was, he’d do it. He’d do anything for her.
“Well, I don’t usually orgasm with other people.”
Confused, Gabe lifted his head and turned her to face him. “What do you mean? I’ve seen you do it.”
“Yeah, well . . . it’s different with you.” She worried the corner of her lip, and her gaze bounced around the room, not meeting his. “Usually I don’t bother to try. It takes too long—”
“No, it doesn’t.” He cupped her face and waited until she looked at him, instead of at the watercolor landscape over his shoulder, before he went on.
“However long it takes, your pleasure is worth it. Anyone who’s made you feel like it wasn’t . . .” He worked to get the anger out of his voice, because he wasn’t angry at her. “I’m just sorry anyone ever made you feel that way.”
Her lashes fluttered, like she couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. “I’m not sure why, but I prefer to do it alone. Probably to avoid emotional intimacy or whatever.”
“Why now?” he asked, when he really wanted to say, Why me?
She shrugged. “I didn’t feel comfortable doing all this in my parents’ house, and we should make the most of this room. Plus, you’re, like, really good at it, and I . . . trust you.”
Her trust overwhelmed him. It was more than he deserved. He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”
She shifted restlessly. “Anyway, my fantasy is to come. A lot. By someone else’s hand. Or . . . parts.”
“Challenge accepted. And, Mich?”
“Yeah?”
Her tone was apprehensive, like she expected him to turn her down, so he slipped his arms around her and tried to let all the desire and love he felt for her show in his eyes, in his voice. “If I come—and I might, because seeing you in ecstasy brings me pleasure too—it doesn’t mean the night is over. We’ll go for as long as you want. Okay?”
She gave him a small smile that wasn’t anything like her usual smirks or flirtatious grins. This one was real and a little nervous. “Thanks.”
WHEN MICHELLE HAD conceived of this plan in the Macy’s menswear department, she hadn’t doubted Gabe would be on board. Sex was the easy part with him—it was everything else that was complicated.
What she’d doubted was her own courage to go through with her request.
She’d bought the sexy bralette combo and packed the heels and some other goodies, but it wasn’t until they were leaving the party that she found her resolve.
After he’d said, Let it be real.
Admitting she hadn’t orgasmed with anyone else during sex was as real as it got. She hadn’t planned to say that, but Gabe was so easy to open up to, it had slipped out.
And now he was looking at her like he was a wolf about to devour her.
“Are there any boundaries?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not with you.”
Some emotion she couldn’t name passed across his face, but he only tightened his arms around her and pulled her closer. He was still in his undershirt and a pair of shorts, and she was dressed like some kind of sex superhero.
“There are some presents for you in the bathroom,” she said, nodding her head toward the door. “Take a look.”
He released her with great reluctance, and while he was retrieving the bag she’d left him—packed with condoms, lube, and a travel-size wand vibrator—she pulled the blankets back and climbed onto the middle of the bed. He returned wearing only a wolfish grin and black boxer briefs. She expected him to join her, but instead, he hooked his arms under her thighs and dragged her to the edge of the mattress. He spread her legs wide, then he dropped to his knees between them. And even though his intent was clearly telegraphed by the ravenous way he stared at her, she still jumped when his tongue swiped over the sheer lace covering her pussy.
He paused and gazed up at her from b
etween her legs. “Problem?”
Yes, she did have a problem. The sexiest man in the world was about to eat her into next Tuesday, and she was on the verge of a massive anxiety-induced laughing fit. “Nope.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re nervous.”
She bit her lip. “Um, maybe.”
Sliding his arms under her legs, he rested his head on her inner thigh and folded his hands over her belly, as if he were settling in for a fascinating conversation. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” She let out a slightly hysterical giggle and slapped her hands over her rapidly heating face to cover the blush. “Not like we haven’t done this before.”
“Is it because you gave up control? Asked for what you wanted?” His voice was low and silken, compelling her to lower her hands and look at him. She did, and his dark gaze captured hers. “Let me in.”
Michelle couldn’t tell if the last was a question or a demand. It didn’t matter. Yes, she was nervous about letting him in—into her life, into her heart, into moments that would become memories.
But yes, she would do it anyway.
In answer, she spread her legs wider for him.
Something intense flashed in his eyes before he shut them and pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh.
“Don’t worry, Mich,” he murmured. “I’ll make your fantasy come true.”
And yes, oh hell fucking yes he did. Gabe did her in every position he could think of, going above and beyond even her wildest fantasies. Sitting on the side of the bed with her straddling his lap, lifting her up and down while he worked his hips like a piston beneath her. Bending her over the side of the mattress and plowing her from behind. In between fucking, he went down on her, licking her until she came. When he was inside her, he used the vibrator or his hand.
And then there was the dirty talk. Gabe was good with his tongue in more ways than one, and Michelle was living for it.
They were on the bed, spooning with one of her legs thrown back over his hips so he could touch the vibrator to her clit. His other hand cupped her breast, rolling her nipple and giving it light pinches.