by Jean Haus
My lip quivers as emotion engulfs me until I burst into loud, gulping, messy sobbing.
“Hey,” he says softly, pulling me off the chair and into his arms. “I thought you wanted more too.”
My face is buried in his chest, but I nod against his soft T-shirt. “I do,” I say into the cotton before another sob escapes. Wrapping my arms around him, I add in a tiny voice, “I just don’t deserve you.”
I feel him shake his head as he shifts his arms around my body, then carries me across the room. He settles on the couch and just holds me, his fingers a soft whisper in my hair. “Not sure I’m worth deserving.”
“Oh, you so are.” And I hold him back, for once not feeling alone.
Chapter 27
~April~
We sit holding each other for quite some time. Much later after my sobbing stops and my breathing evens, I drag away from his chest to look at him. His expression is gentle as he brushes a strand of hair from my face.
“You sure you want to try this?” I ask referring to us, my voice raw and hoarse from crying.
“Well,” he says in a dry tone. “The last couple weeks have been completely fucked up caught between what I should do and what I want.” His gaze roams over my face, telling me without words what he wants. “It’s like I’ve been leaning on the edge of a knife, either waiting for it to cut me or wanting it to cut me to escape in the pain. And now, except for a tiny part of me that wants to save you from me, knowing you want more, I feel relief.” His fingers graze the side of my face. “And wonder.” His palm slides down my neck. “And hope.” Fingers trace my collarbone. “And that I’m the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth.”
He is such a beautiful soul, a blend of sweet and tough and resilient. I trace his upper lip like that night months ago. His skimming fingers pause. His eyes bore into mine, obviously remembering that night too.
I let out a contented sigh. “I’m the lucky one here.”
He starts to shake his lovely face, but I push up, grasp his jaw in my hands, and catch those beautiful lips with mine, kissing him softly. Hands holding my scalp, he kisses me back. Again and again. His tenderness burns through all of my doubts. Everything fades away, except his touch, his lips, and hands on me. When gentle, warm kisses turn demanding, he sits back, his eyes concerned.
His thumbs rub strands of my hair. “We don’t have to rush things. You’ve had an emotional night.” He slides his hands to my waist and attempts to pull me back into his lap, but I twist myself up until I’m straddling his lap and holding onto his shoulders.
“This isn’t about rushing.” After weeks of confusion, I’m filled with an emotion that borders on euphoria because I can be with him. “This is about need. I need this. I need you.”
Tension creases his forehead. Anxiety fills his lovely eyes and hardens the lines of his face.
I draw in a breath and try to explain that wonderful feeling of intimacy that I remember with him. “It not about the sex, though I want that too. It’s about being close to you. Not knowing where I start and you end.”
The lines in his forehead deepen until he lets out a, “Fuck,” puts a hand on the back of my head and slams into me, his mouth a bruising force.
This intensity, this desperation, this is what I want from him. His fierceness sends music into my veins, the notes a fast, rhythmic crescendo that exposes his need for me, and drives my need to equal the wildness of his. Together, we’re a flying, building tempo, our sensual energy changing to prestissimo—the fastest tempo—in an instant.
In between hot nips and rough bites and gripping hands, I lose my sweater and jeans, Gabe his T-shirt and belt. Within the storm of another kiss, I’m blindly working on the button of his pants when he breaks our kiss, flips us around, and kneels on the floor in front of me.
My underwear hit the floor as I grasp his intent. “Um, I’m not sur—”
“Shhh. I’ve wanted to taste you forever.” He lifts my legs on his shoulders and my hands hit the bottom cushions of the couch.
Between his eyes on me and his words, a wave of heat hits me, but I’m still a bit mortified. “Um—”
His hot, wet mouth touches the center of me, and all words are lost. I nearly melt into the couch. My hands find his shoulders and grip tight before I do dissolve in the cushions. Mortification dies. With his hands cradling my butt and his tongue on my hot skin, this is the second most intimate moment of my life. After I practically bend off the couch, sing like an alley cat, and nearly tear Gabe’s hair out, I slowly open my eyes to find him leaning on my thigh staring at me.
I’m mortified all over again. And not just a bit.
He shakes his head, brushing his scruff on my inner thigh. “Don’t look like that. You were beautiful. That was beautiful.”
Mortification dies at his words.
He stands and holds out a hand for me. Dressed only in a bra, I let him take me by the hand around the couch toward the bed. Along the way, he flicks off the lamp, leaving the light above the kitchen sink to illuminate the apartment.
As he unclasps my bra, I undo the button of his pants. I push his jeans and boxers down, and he kicks them off. Curiosity mixed with a fierce lust has me reaching for him. Standing motionless, he watches me with slitted eyes as I learn the contours of his hard, hot skin. Too soon, he’s setting me on the center of the bed, then rolling on a condom before he follows.
We lay on our sides for a long moment staring at each other in the shadows.
He grips my shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about this, all the time, nearly every second of the day, since that night,” he says softly, his breath a whisper on my lips.
“Me too,” I admit, as every cell in my body buzzes with anticipation.
“All that waiting has me wanting to go slow, make it last.”
I nod, thinking I just want it to start. As in now.
Gabe moves first, sliding his palm from the side of my breast over my hip to my thigh, causing my skin to buzz as much as my cells. He leans in and kisses me softly as he wraps my leg around his hip. Then he shifts closer, sliding into me, hard and hot and smooth.
A moan escapes me at the marvelous feel of him.
His lips form another smile against mine as he drives deeper. We’re soon breathing hard, our kiss a press of open mouths as we move together. My calf grips his hip. My fingers wrap around his biceps. My heel digs into his buttock. Closer! my body screams, along with faster, but Gabe keeps it slow and meltingly torturous, his face a rigid, sexy picture of holding back.
Sweaty, muscles straining, and glued to him, I’m truly not sure where I end and he begins. And he does make it last and last until the leisure tempo ends in a fury, our interwoven bodies becoming a mass of shuddering, sweet trembles.
We lay glued together for quite some time, allowing our breathing to calm. Later Gabe draws the covers up and over us, pulling me to his chest.
“Someday, I want to hear you play,” he says into my hair.
My full heart tightens. “I wish I could but it’s gone.”
He shakes his head and kisses my temple. “You’ll play again.”
His certain tone has me sighing and softly saying, “Maybe.”
Even though I don’t believe it.
Chapter 28
~April~
I wake to a sensual dream. Spooned against Gabe’s hot, hard body. His mouth on my neck. His hand between my legs. Half asleep, I’m floating on a warm cloud of lust, and I wiggle closer. When he enters me from behind, the cloud soars amidst panting and straining. A bite on my shoulder sends me tumbling in pleasure from the cloud back into Gabe’s bed.
A tinkling bell sounds somewhere from the floor.
“What is that?” I ask, coming down from the amazing wake up sex.
“My phone. Alarm,” he says in a harsh puff of breath that whispers on my back.
“How long has it been going off?”
I feel him shrug.
Worried for him, I try to squirm out from
under his warm body. “You’re going to be late for work.”
He draws me close, still breathing hard. “Don’t care. This is where I want to be.”
“Gabe—”
He kisses my ear. “I’m getting up but you sleep.”
“Huh?” I say groggily.
He scoots out of the blankets. “I want to imagine you here in my bed while I’m at work and know it’s not a fantasy.”
I giggle, then sigh dreamily at the notion of him imagining me.
After another kiss, this one on my shoulder where he bit me earlier, he rolls out of bed.
I lay in bed content to fill his imagination while he works, listening to him getting ready. Shuffling in drawers. Showering—that has my half-asleep imagination wandering. Opening the fridge. His footsteps coming back to me and another kiss landing on my forehead.
“Dinner? Tonight?”
“Yes, please,” I say, smiling into the pillow.
I hear him chuckle prior to the sound of the door opening and closing.
Bone tired, it doesn’t take long for me to fall back to sleep and fulfill his fantasy.
***
When I wake again, the apartment is bright from the sun. I stretch with a smile, thinking of the night before and the early morning. The slight tightness of my body reminds me of Gabe. Wanting him, I roll onto the far pillow, breathing in his scent. A warm happiness fills me at the familiar smell until a nagging guilt hits me.
I shouldn’t be this happy. I don’t deserve it.
I flop back over and stare at the ceiling as tears threaten to fall.
I don’t deserve them either. And I definitely don’t deserve Gabe.
This is where I want to be.
My hands grip the edge of the sheet.
Though I don’t deserve him or the happiness he brings me, I don’t want to hurt him.
In all the confusion of the last few months, I never anticipated this bone wrenching guilt, never imagined this happiness.
Because I never thought we would be together.
My head and my heart churn in a dark whirl.
I need to get out of here. Get my head on straight. Perhaps ignore my heart, and the warm feelings.
After flying out of bed, I quickly find my clothes strewn all over the room. Dressed, I detangle my hair with my fingers, then search for my shoes. I find one under the table and spot the other under the couch. I’m slipping on a flat, when someone starts banging at the door and turning the handle. Muffled shouts come from outside next.
I quickly grab my purse, as the wrenching grows louder. “Just a minute!” I yell, wondering who it could be. Gabe, who forgot his key? Romeo, who somehow saw my car parked outside?
The open door reveals an older man wearing crumpled clothes. His face is red and angry with a purple vein raised along his temple under messy brown hair.
His brows lower. “Who the hell are you?” he asks in a mixture of a growl and sneer.
Totally baffled, I merely blink at him.
“Jim!” Someone cries from behind him, and I notice Sharon, trying to push in front of the man. “That’s April. She’s one of Gabe’s friends.”
Wobbling into the apartment—forcing me to step back—he pushes her back on the porch. His bloodshot eyes roam over my disheveled appearance. “Ah yeah, more like a fuck buddy.”
My mouth falls open as a red-hot blush hits my cheeks.
Lips in a sneer, hands fisted at his sides, and swaying a bit, Jim quickly inspects the one room apartment, then marches over to the kitchen and whips open the cupboard above the fridge.
“So sorry, April,” Sharon says quickly as she comes in. She goes to Jim and tugs at his shirt while he throws everything out of the cupboard, items crashing onto the floor. “He said he didn’t take it. Just wait until he gets here!”
“Little fucker’s been a liar since he was in diapers,” Jim mumbles.
Jim must be Gabe’s father, I realize as he furiously tears out the contents of the next cupboard. Cereal boxes, crackers, and jars thud to the tile.
Standing next to the door, I’m frozen. Part of me wants to flee. The other part doesn’t want to leave Sharon alone with Gabe’s irate father who I know is dangerous, and is probably drunk—at ten in the morning.
“Stop it!” Sharon yells. “You’re destroying his apartment!”
Jim turns around, his eyes drilling fury at Sharon. “The damn gun didn’t just disappear.”
Gun? Alarm bells go off in my head.
Plates begin falling and smashing onto the floor.
Sharon keeps pulling at his shirt and telling him to stop. My purse falls to floor as I wring my hands. My mind is blank. I have no idea how to deal with this.
Suddenly, Allie comes through the door. Her eyes widen on me before she turns to where the racket is coming from. “What the heck is going on up here?”
Sharon glances over her shoulder.
Allie looks to me.
I point to Jim. “Gabe’s father. He just showed up. He thinks Gabe has his gun hidden here.”
Allie’s expression turns alarmed as she faces Jim and Sharon. “You need to leave. Now.”
Jim opens another cupboard and Sharon’s whining grows frantic.
“This isn’t your property,” Allie says firmly. “You need to leave now.”
“Fuck you,” Jim says.
“All right then, I’m calling the police,” Allie says, before rushing out.
“Jim!” Sharon wails. “You heard her! We have to go!”
He keeps yanking items out of the last cupboard. The floor in the kitchen is littered with destroyed food and broken dishes.
Sharon starts feverishly yanking on his shirt and arm. “Jim!”
He turns, then grabs her by the neck, yanking her on her tiptoes.
“Shut the fuck up.”
I finally quit the hand wringing and race across the room. “Let her go!” I heave on his hand wrapped around her neck.
Sharon wheezes.
“Let her go!” I scream, frantically tugging on his arm, clawing at his skin.
When I scrape his arm, his blood shot eyes spit fury at me, but he lets her go. She falls against the counter. For a split second, I’m relieved, then a meaty hand covers my face and violently shoves me back.
I’m falling. Arms flailing. Some yells—an angry roar that fills the apartment. Leaning on the counter several feet from me, Sharon’s face twists in distress. I’m about to splat on the kitchen floor covered with spilled food and pieces of broken china. Muscled arms catch me inches from landing on the broken shards. Strong hands lift me and set me on a chair.
“You okay?” Gabe hoarsely asks, leaning over me.
I can only nod.
After assessing me with a long look, rage creates deep lines around his mouth and he flies across the room, taking his father with him. He slams his father against the wall. Twice.
Jim shakes his head, dazed from his collisions with the wall.
“I told you! I told you!” Gabe snarls as he draws his fist back. “You don’t hit women! Especially her! Never her!” He hits his father hard and fast. Once. Twice. Three times. Then more. In the face.
Blood drips from Jim’s mouth.
“Gabe!” Sharon yells, pushing herself from the counter.
I get up too. Though my legs are wobbly, I grab Gabe’s arm as he pulls it back. “Stop! He’s not worth it!”
Gabe’s arm tenses, but he doesn’t release another punch. He just stands there, staring furiously at his father, and breathing hard.
Jim starts sliding down the wall.
Gabe’s fist contracts.
“Leave him alone!” Sharon wails, rushing toward Jim.
I grip Gabe’s shoulder. “You have to stop,” I say as loud and calm as possible. I lean closer to him, trying to get him to hear past his rage. “I’m fine. Sharon’s fine. Just leave him alone.”
Gabe steps back. He stares at me, but I can tell that he isn’t seeing me past the rage in his e
yes. He weaves as if drunk too.
Appearing dazed, Jim lays on the floor and Sharon kneels at his side. Sobbing, she whispers in a voice full of despair, “I took the gun. I didn’t want you to do anything stupid or get hurt. I took the gun.”
I wrap my arms around Gabe, holding him tight and bury my head in his chest. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” I repeat into his work shirt, waiting for him to hug me back. “I’m okay. Sharon’s okay.”
But his arms never rise. Instead, the door whips open and two policemen flood the room, followed by Allie.
Obviously confused and blinking in shock at the scene in the kitchen, Allie points to Jim lying on the floor. “He’s the trespasser.”
Sharon’s still crying.
The police look from Gabe, who has blood on his knuckles, to Jim, who is passed out cold on the floor. One of them asks, “What is going on here?” While the other radios for an ambulance.
Gabe steps from me and raises his wrists. “I punched the shit out of him.”
The cop who radioed for an ambulance goes to Jim. The second one studies Gabe, reaching for his handcuffs.
“No. No. No,” I say, moving in front Gabe. “His father choked the woman on the floor and shoved me down by my face.”
Gabe steps in front of me, holding out his wrists. “I’m already on probation for assault and battery.”
At that the policeman, clinks the cuffs around Gabe.
“He was defending us!” I say.
The policeman looks to Gabe, whose face is granite. “We’ll figure this out, ma’am,” he says and takes Gabe.
“Gabe,” I sob, but he doesn’t look back as they go on the porch and down the stairs.
Allie comes and puts an arm around my shoulders. “What happened, April?” she softly asks.
I cover my face and shake my head. Since Gabe’s father came through the door, everything has been surreal. But Gabe ignoring me…I drop my hands and whisper, “I don’t know.”
Chapter 29
~Gabe ~
I’ve lived on hope for too long. Reality has raised her ugly head, and I’m face to face with her, accepting and despondent all at once. It was a good ride, but the shit is over.