“You know she’d never let anything hurt me.” Mila nods, grinning. “Seriously, I have faith. Everything is going to be fine.”
“You’re right,” Pax agrees. “You’re going to be fine. And the baby is too.”
They curl up together with Pax half on the bed and half on his chair, his arms encircling Mila as if to protect her from the world.
Pax is a protector. Mila’s protector.
It’s a sight that causes that freaking lump to immediately form back in my throat, both because it’s heartwarming and because I’d like to have what they have… a pure and perfect love for each other.
And someone to protect me from everything that might hurt me.
Someone like Gabe.
Oh my God. I’ve got to get out of here before I embarrass myself.
I stand up and they both look up at me, their cheeks pink and warm from being cuddled together.
“I’m going to head home and shower since Pax is here now. I want to wash off the hospital smell. If you guys need anything, just give me a call. I’ll come out to the house tomorrow to check on you, Mi.” I bend down and kiss her cheek. “I love you. You’re going to be fine.”
“I know,” she tells me confidently. “I love you too.”
I walk through the hospital woodenly as all my emotions come down on me, the fear that Mila could lose her baby, the worry for Mila herself… and the overwhelming loneliness that encompasses me right now.
I don’t even realize until I’ve reached my car that tears are streaming down my cheeks.
Chapter Eleven
My house has never seemed so empty or quiet.
And I have never been quite so alone.
Jacey is covering for me at the Hill because there was no way that I could’ve left Mila to go to work. But now, as I sit all alone on my patio with a bottle of wine, I wish that Jacey were here with me instead. I’m stuck here by myself, with only my worries for company.
They’re bad freaking company.
I take a sip of wine and stare at the sky, watching the storm clouds roll in, heavy and dark.
I stare at my wineglass and remember when my mother bought it, and decide that I need to buy my own freaking glassware.
I stare at the sand behind the house, noticing the way it’s packed down, hard and damp.
I glance back at my watch and find that’s it’s only been one minute since the last time I looked at it.
I’m pathetic. I’m sitting here wallowing in my fear and worry and misery and it’s ridiculous. I can’t keep doing this tonight.
Just as I’m getting up to find something else to do to keep my mind occupied, my doorbell rings. For one split second, I’m panicked that it is bad news about Mila. And then I realize that’s stupid. If something happened, Pax would call. Not send someone.
I open the door and am startled to find Gabriel standing in front of me.
He’s strikingly sexy in his ever-present snug T-shirt and I somehow feel a marked sense of relief just at the mere sight of him.
He grins at me, holding up a silver tube of my lipstick.
“You left this in my car. I figured it must’ve rolled out of your purse. Since it’s not really my color, I figured I should return it.”
I reach for it and he deposits it in my hand, and when he does, the warmth of his hand transfers to my own. It’s the touch I’ve been thinking about for days: his strength, his power.
He smiles at me and I try to smile back, but I suddenly can’t.
My stomach clenches and a tear runs down my cheek.
Then another.
Gabe’s face sobers up and his eyes are veiled as he looks at me, assessing me.
“Are you all right?” Gabe asks, concerned as he stares at me, as his eyes search for what is wrong. He takes a step toward me, then stops. “Are you?” he repeats hesitantly.
I stand limply in front of him, an empty shell, but I nod.
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Would you like a glass of wine? I really don’t want to be alone.” My eyes burn, but I manage to get the words out.
Gabe looks at me, his stormy eyes focused on my face.
“Of course,” he finally answers. He doesn’t even say that he prefers beer and I know that he does.
He takes my arm as I lead him through the house to the terrace. His hand is gentle, and strong, and warm on my elbow. I revel in the feel of it, in the warmth of his fingers, and I hate the coldness when he pulls it away. But we’re on the terrace now, so he steps back, watching me, hesitant.
He’s waiting.
He doesn’t know what I want.
It’s lightly raining now, but neither of us acknowledges it. I pour him a glass of wine and hand it to him with shaking fingers. I see the crimson liquid splash upward against the side of the glass, sliding back down into a pool. In my head I see the crimson blood running down Mila’s legs and I cringe, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to block it out.
“Maddy,” he says uncertainly, his voice deep and husky. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
I open my eyes and am distracted by the shape of his mouth, by the slant, by the full but firm lips. The lips I’ve thought about for days. The lips that licked me from his fingers.
I swallow, then I lift my fingers and trace his lips, sliding my fingertips over the softness. He stands still, completely still, as he waits to see what I’m going to do. As his dark eyes find mine, I decide that for this moment, I don’t care what his issues are.
This isn’t a game anymore, if it ever really was.
“Maddy,” he murmurs quietly, but firmer this time, his eyes frozen on mine even as he remains still. “Tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“I’ve just had a bad day. And I need you to make it good again.”
He stares at me in shock. I can’t blame him.
Confusion fills Gabriel’s eyes as he stands there facing me, not sure of what to do.
So I show him.
Reaching up, I press my lips softly to his, tentative at first, enjoying the taste of salt that lingers there, loving the way his chest is so rock-solid beneath my fingers.
The kiss is so soft, so gentle; barely there. But the intensity of having wanted it for days makes it fierce. His lips ignite a fire that flashes through my mouth and down into my chest and buries itself between my legs.
It roars to life there, burning bright, the flames licking up into the rest of me.
Gabriel’s strong arms automatically close around me as I deepen the kiss, plunging my tongue desperately into his mouth, tangling with his. I glance up and his dark eyes are open, staring into mine.
“Are you sure you’re OK?” he asks against my lips, almost desperately. I nod.
“I am now.”
My voice is a whisper and he groans, kissing me again, pulling me closer.
My hands are everywhere, running over his hard chest, his chiseled waist, his toned backside. Our mouths are hot and wet and open, our breath panting.
The friction from his warm skin against my fingertips is delicious and for a minute I remember that night in the taxi, how his dark eyes burned for me then, how he licked his fingers. That mere memory turns my knees weak yet again, just like it does every time I think of it.
I grasp his hand and shove it between my legs, but my pants are in the way. I step out of them as I push my wet hair out of my face and he reaches down, ripping my panties away from my body… ridding us of the barrier between him and me.
He stands there, the shredding tatters of my underwear dangling from his fingers, then he flicks them away and they fall onto the wet ground at our feet.
I’m throbbing now as I stand facing him, waiting for him to touch me, the heat between my legs almost more than I can take.
Every nerve ending waits for him.
I hold my breath.
The rain pours down.
And then he touches me. His fingers, so long, slide into me and suddenly I find myself balanced on the palm of his hand, like everyth
ing in my being is tied to him. Waiting for him.
It’s been waiting for him forever.
He slips farther inside and everything in me moans. My eyes flicker up and catch his; his are hooded and dark as his eyelashes flutter down.
I run my fingers along his waistband.
“Is this OK?” I whisper, my lids lifting to meet his gaze, watching the rain run off his face.
“Hell, yes,” he mutters, guiding my hand to his hard crotch. It strains against my hand, pulsing and hot, and need for him flows in me everywhere, hot and rough and impatient.
I know that I need him to put the fire out.
I shove his shorts down and discard them to the side. It doesn’t matter to me that we’re outdoors. Nothing matters now but this.
This heat, this need; this blur of colors and feelings. This explosion of things that I can’t control, can’t even name.
Gripping him in my hand, I slide him easily in my fingers, wet from the rain. He’s as enormous as I remember, slick and hot and pulsing.
He’s hard for me.
He wants me.
He groans again, grabbing my face and pulling me to him, crushing my lips with his own, hard and yet soft.
I nip at his neck, dragging my teeth along the curve of his shoulder, aching to have him fill me up already, but knowing that we should wait. I want to drag it out, to prolong this exquisite agony of waiting for it.
Of waiting for him.
He stands naked in front of me now, tall and proud, and he’s so fucking beautiful.
Around us the rain pours down and the thunder rumbles, the electricity in the sky colliding with our energy. It’s a heady combination and I drop to my knees, taking him into my mouth. He’s huge and hard, and I move my lips up his length, letting him slide in past my teeth, down my throat.
“Fuck, Madison,” Gabriel groans, his fingers buried in my hair, guiding my speed. “God, that feels so good.”
I slide him in and out for a few minutes more, until he pushes me away, grabbing at my shirt and almost ripping it off. The raging heat from our bodies pressed together pools between my legs.
“I want you,” I murmur to him. “Right now.”
“I want to ask why you’ve changed your mind,” Gabriel says roughly, dipping his head to trail his lips along my neck. “But it doesn’t matter right now. I want to be inside you, Madison. I’m finally going to fuck you and you’re going to like it.”
He pulls on my hand, urging me back toward the house, but I plant my heels.
“Here,” I tell him simply. “Right here, in the rain. I want you right now.”
Gabriel looks sharply at me, but he doesn’t argue. He simply eases me onto the large stone table behind us. It’s cold and wet, but it doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters but this.
His body covers mine, rubbing against every inch of me, bringing every nerve ending singing to life. He hovers above me now, just as I’ve imagined him hovering above me, waiting to enter me.
Reality is even better than my imagination.
I grasp at his back as he slides his fingers into me again, my muscles flexing as he moves. Everything around us ceases to matter; the wind, the rain… it all fades away and all that I can see is him.
“God, you’re so wet,” he rasps into my ear. “And so fucking tight.”
He fingers me softly, then harder. And then he withdraws his fingers. Before I can protest at his absence, I hear a wrapper crinkle and then he slips into me, hard and full.
I gasp, then hold on as he thrusts into me.
I needed this so much.
I needed him and I didn’t even realize it.
My legs wrap around him, pulling him to me, as close as he can possibly get.
Intimate feelings, strange and foreign feelings, threaten to overwhelm me as I clutch him to me, as I absorb his warmth, his vitality, his scent.
Everything about this moment is exactly what I need, even if I can’t define what I’m feeling, or why I’m feeling it. All my sadness, all my worry, all my fear culminate and explode in this moment. It makes everything blurry, makes everything happen so fast. I just want to take and take and take… everything he has to give.
Gabriel reaches between us and, using his thumb, brings me to climax a scant moment later.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he tells me raggedly, still thrusting into me, filling me up. His strength is apparent as he moves against me, every muscle flexing with every movement.
He pulls my leg up and over his shoulder, deepening his penetration. I call out, scratching into him, holding tight; and then he shudders with his own release a minute later.
He collapses onto me, holding me close as we recover.
“Holy shit,” he finally says, after a few minutes. “That was incredible.”
My chest almost hurts from the feeling of completion that is filling it. I reach out and slide my fingers along Gabe’s jawline, along the stubble that always lingers there and turns me on.
“It was,” I agree. “Except for the rain. I didn’t care about it a few minutes ago, but now…” My voice trails off as my teeth start to chatter.
Gabriel sits up and then stands, pulling me to my feet. He hands me my clothes, then gets dressed himself.
“Come on,” he tells me, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the house.
“What are we doing?” I ask curiously.
“Taking a hot shower. That rain is fucking cold.”
We tumble through the door and I lead him to the bathroom, stopping only to let the shower water get hot. Gabriel turns to me and helps me into the shower, and then lathers up his hands, running them over my back.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers into my ear. “You have no idea how much I think about you.”
He does? That thought makes my heart race.
Gabriel drops to his knees and lathers his hands again, paying close attention to my thighs, then to the crevices behind my knees. When his soapy hands slip to the apex of my thighs, I inhale sharply and watch him smile.
“Do you like that?” he asks knowingly. He rinses his hand, then slips a finger into me. I nod and another finger slips in. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Open your eyes, Maddy,” he tells me. “I want to see you when I do this.”
The idea of being vulnerable right now while I’m so exposed makes me nervous, but Gabe doesn’t give me the time to think about it. He pushes me back onto the ledge of the shower, and then, while I watch, he detaches the shower nozzle. He rinses away the water, then holds the nozzle between my legs.
“What… the… hell…” I murmur in amazement as waves of pleasure ripple through me, buoying me up, teetering me on the edge of another orgasm.
I close my eyes again, allowing myself to give in to the pleasure, to the sinfully good sensations stemming from the water hitting me at just the right angle. I’m self-conscious and nervous that Gabe is watching me, but it feels so freaking good that I can’t help but to just let him do it. If I protested, he might stop. And there’s no way I want that.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs into my neck. “Let yourself go. Relax.”
So I do. I just focus on the building waves of my orgasm. And just when I am grabbing at the shower wall, almost ready to come, Gabriel pulls the shower nozzle away and replaces it with his tongue.
“Holy fuck,” I practically scream, as I shudder against him. My legs go weak with the strength of my orgasm and I hold tight to Gabriel so my knees don’t give out.
His face is clouded, his eyes slightly unfocused as he pulls me up and flips me over. I see him reach for his wallet and there is another rustle of foil. Then without another word he slips inside me from behind, thrusting harder and harder.
Even though I already came once, the sensations start building again. He wraps his hand around and moves his fingers against me too. I moan, my hands slipping down the wet wall in front of me, my cheek resting against the wall.
“Your ass is
amazing,” Gabriel murmurs, his lips resting against my shoulders. “Tell me what you want, Madison. Tell me.”
I breathe in, then breathe out, slowing down the moment.
“I want you to come,” I finally tell him, loving how he fills me up. “I want to know you like it.”
He groans as he thrusts again. “Oh, trust me. I fucking love it.”
“So come then,” I tell him. “Show me how much you love it. I want to feel it.”
He moves his hands to my hips now, clutching tightly there, his fingers digging into my skin as he moves. Rhythmically, he moves with me until he finally sucks in a breath and pulses into me. I can feel the heat spreading into the condom and I close my eyes, enjoying it.
We stay that way with the water beating down on us for several minutes, before Gabriel straightens up and rinses us off. We step out of the shower and as I’m drying off, Gabriel looks at me.
“I could use some coffee. Can I go make some?”
I nod. “Of course. The kitchen is… well, you know where it is. We came in through the kitchen door.”
Gabriel ducks out and I join him in the kitchen after I’ve gotten dressed. He’s still shirtless, maneuvering about the kitchen with ease. The smell of coffee percolating is already filling the air and I watch as Gabriel finds two cups, filling them both. He sips at one, then dumps sugar and cream in the other, simply assuming that I want it. And he’s right. That’s exactly how I take it.
He sets a cup in front of me and then sits down across from me at the table.
The air between us has cleared, the frenzied sexual tension is gone. The need, however, remains… only it’s quiet now, latent.
Waiting.
Gabe stares at me. “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”
I think about my poor sister, huddled in her bed back at the hospital. I think about the possibility that I could lose her. I think about the fact that I’m always afraid and the only time I’ve not been afraid in as long as I remember was a few minutes ago when I was wrapped in his arms. I think of all of that.
As I do, my eyes well up again, against my will. I hate to cry. And I’ve never been a crier. Until today, apparently.
If You Leave: The Beautifully Broken Series: Book 2 Page 14