by Dawn Tomasko
In the kitchen, she washed her hands and went to work on slicing the hard cheese and then arranged fruit on a platter. There'd been grapes and melon in the refrigerator, and alongside them, she placed the crackers.
After she had filled the wine glasses, she brought the food and drinks over to the coffee table by a blue and white striped sofa. Onion lamps in green and red sat on each end table. A twisted piece of driftwood lay on the coffee table. A darker blue area rug complemented the polished wood floors. His cottage possessed a casual seaside quality she found charming.
The only other time she came inside was the day they rushed to pack for his trip to Connecticut. Gabriel kept a tidy house. No dirty dishes in the sink, or clothes strewn around. Perched on the edge of the sofa, she folded her hands in her lap and waited. Would he accept her offer or send her on her way?
When bathroom door opened, steam escaped and rose to the hall ceiling. Gabriel stood wrapped in a towel, rubbed at his hair with another. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his naked torso, and long muscled legs. Water beaded on his skin, gathered to roll down his body. A body that not long ago, was hers for the asking. God, he was beautiful. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and her fingers curled in on the desire to touch.
"I'll be right out,” he said, stared at her a moment, as if fully aware of his effect on her. Then he closed the bedroom door behind him. Shut her out of his room, a place which, not so long ago, she would have been infinitely welcome.
Sara silenced her phone, then stood to pace the living room. She loved being in his space, surrounded by his belongings. Hunger for him snaked through her, nearly as powerful as the need to bring balance back between them. At the sliding glass doors, she stared out over the sandy dunes in his backyard. Seagrass bent in the breeze, and a gull briefly hovered above the deck railing before something caught his eye, and he flew off into the bright blue sky.
Sara sensed Gabriel's presence before her eyes or ears confirmed it. Eyes closed, she breathed in and out, slowly. How to bridge the gap between them? The words she chose mattered. How their relationship proceeded from here hinged on this moment and required great care.
Heat radiated from his body to hers. Her shoulders tensed, and she turned toward him. Gabriel looked down at her, his dark eyes serious. The lines around them she associated with joy seemed drawn and taut. Guilt swamped her.
"Gabriel,” she whispered, cleared her throat. Draw on your strength. No signs of weakness. "I've never met a man like you before. The way you are with me, talk to me, respect me? It’s all different from what I’m used to. We’ve known each other for a short time, yet you bring so much to my life. We argue, work hard and have fun. I can’t even tell you how incredible the lovemaking is for me. Our time together adds up to more than I ever experienced with anyone."
His silence allowed her to think, to let emotion roll and truth come naturally. "At the same time I’m working to make a new life for myself, you've become part of it. You make me laugh. You taught me how to play. When I'm upset, you sense it. You care about me, think of me, make gestures of kindness and consideration."
Had she imagined a softening in his eyes? Still, he waited, made her earn every inch of ground. "You give me time and space. The only relationships I ever experienced ended because of intrinsic flaws. In the relationship, in me. Emotional distance became commonplace, automatic. I needed that buffer. When you and I first met, I could be more open and honest because I didn't expect this to happen, to get so close to you. What did I have to lose? But things changed. So when someone this different, and extraordinary comes into my life,” she swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I don’t always know how to navigate our relationship. You became so much more than I ever expected. I'm not sure how to do this,” she confessed. "Do you understand?"
Her words must have reached deep because his chest rose and fell as if it took great effort to remain silent and still. His face was no longer devoid of emotion, Sara knew what the look in his eyes meant. At least, she hoped so.
Love, and it both thrilled and scared the hell out of her. To give more involved massive risk, and not to give more came the absolute certainty of losing him. No longer an option.
"I'm sorry I hurt you,” she confessed, as her chin trembled. He put up a hand as if he would touch her face, then stuffed it in his pocket. "Will you give us a chance? Give me the opportunity to find my way."
When he spoke, his voice sounded raw. "That part of you I’m after?"
"The part I keep to myself,” she finished.
He nodded. "I know you hang on because you're afraid to let go entirely. It's a defense mechanism you taught yourself a long time ago to survive. You needed to protect yourself. Maybe you feel unworthy of love. But you loved David on some level. Otherwise, you couldn't have married him. Even friendship and respect is a type of love. Commitment matters. You love Brianna, yet look at the situation now. It hurts. Then I hurt you."
"Gabriel, I hurt you,” she retorted.
"Yeah, you did. But I'm not going to cut and run. You can bet on the fact that I won't back down because of arguments or disagreements. We will hurt each other now and then. It's part of the deal. I expect you to stay and ride them out."
He meant what he said, but it still scared her. "You're right. I realize I've forgiven my mother for giving me less. If she could have done better she would have, right? But I can't be free of it completely. It's part of my process, what drives my reactions. But I promise I'll do my best to be as open and honest as I can. If I struggle, I'll tell you. Let me try. It’s a learning curve for me."
The soft look in his eyes nearly undid her. Hope blossomed in her, and she began to shake. With a sharp burn, her eyes filled.
"I know.” Finally, he brought his hand up to cup her cheek.
Relief flooded her heart. Her body went limp. Her eyes closed and she leaned into his palm. "I need to be with you. Our being apart made me miserable. It gave me time to realize what you mean to me. I can't do this anymore. You have become vital to me. I don't want us to be apart. Ever."
"Do you know what your problem is?” he questioned, stroked his fingers over the soft skin along her jaw.
"Which one?” Her eyes snapped open. Sara looked him straight in the eye, ready to take responsibility for every last thing she’d done to hurt this man.
A soft laugh escaped him. "No one ever told you how special you are. How smart, creative, funny.” He brought his other hand up to hold her face. "Beautiful. Precious. Loveable."
She shook her head.
"Damn it, yes, Sara. You still can't quite let yourself believe, can you?"
A sob escaped her throat. Sara held his wrists in a tight grip. "Be patient, please. Don't make me go. I promise—"
"Enough,” he cut her off. “Sara, right now, it's enough for me that you came, and told me what’s in your heart. Being together is better than being apart.” His mouth silenced her with a quick, hard kiss.
"You made a promise, and it's sacred. Now, make me another one. I want to tell you something, and after I do, promise me you will never, ever say it back until you let go of that final piece. Every bit, every cell. I'm greedy. Greedy for you. Not just your body, not just spending time with you in and out of bed. But for you. Until you're ready, do not repeat these words to me. Do you promise?"
Tears blurred her vision. Her heart thrummed in her chest, both afraid and desperate to hear the words. Knowing what they were going to be. "Promise."
"I love you. With all I have, and all I am. If you know me, you know it will never change."
The tears spilled over, trailed down her face, down under her chin. For a long time, they stood, held on as if to absorb each other. To connect in a deeper way, make a commitment without words.
The rich silk of his black hair slid through her fingers. He leaned down and she pressed soft kisses to his eyes, cheekbones, and chin. Her tongue met sharp friction along the stubble on his jaw.
When she sank her teeth into
the cords of his neck, his breath hissed in. Bending, he wrapped his arms tight around her waist and lifted her against him, her feet left the floor.
Her pelvis snuggled against his. The hard ridge in his jeans pressed into her belly, created a sweet ache only he could fill. Boldly, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and he cupped her bottom with his hands. Mouths fused, he walked them into his bedroom, shades drawn, the semi-darkness a cocoon around them.
Without preamble, he fell to the bed, came up on his elbows. Pressed full length along her body, he shifted in subtle, stimulating pulses, aroused them both feverishly. Soft sounds of need rose from her throat.
Impatient, she tore at his clothing, stripped him bare. In her haste, she tore buttons from their moorings, they popped and scattered on the floor. Seconds later, she was naked. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses against her flesh. When he would have savored, she wanted him too much to go slow. She pushed at his shoulders. He smiled as they rolled on the bed.
Appreciating her urgency, he gave a sensual smile as she levered up over him. The curtain of her hair nearly obscured her face. Palms flat on his chest, she rose above him, and he anchored his calloused hands on her hips.
Poised, ready, he watched her in the dark. Ready at the soft gate of her, she held them there, neither advancing nor retreating. Barely joined in the slightest way.
"Gabriel,” his name rasped from her throat in the hushed half-dark, half-light, not a question or a request. More like a prayer, an invocation.
Unable to wait much longer, he dug his fingers into her hips, let her wield her power, let the moment spin out. Her eyes half closed, her hands gripped his wrists, and she let herself fall, to envelop him in one swift, sharp movement.
A harsh cry escaped her lips, a groan of ecstasy ripped from him. Still, she held them there, he, thoroughly embedded in hot silk and she, in possession of him. Body and soul.
In unspoken agreement they began to move, slow, then fast, soft then hard, until neither knew where one of them began and the other ended. The intensity of the build became too much, razor sharp. His long fingers reached down to touch her. In unison, they hurtled into the wild night sea.
Gabriel held her, his hands ran in soft strokes over her silken skin. She'd melted down, sunk against him, limp, their bodies still joined, slick with sweat.
Her face rested on his chest, and he could feel the wetness of tears. If he didn't already know he loved her, this night sealed the deal. To him, Sara and the island were one. Sweet, beautiful, rugged, and capable of invoking depths of emotion previously unknown to him.
The magic of both held him spellbound.
Chapter Twenty-One
The twin aromas of coffee and breakfast sausage drifted into the bedroom. Sara rolled onto her back. Gabriel's scent surrounded her, embedded in the pillows, sheets and summer quilt. Hugging his pillow, she inhaled deeply, drank in his scent and stretched. Body sore in places he’d marked her, she smiled, and stretched languidly.
Out in the kitchen, Gabriel stood at the stove, tongs in hand. Naked to the waist, she stared in open-mouthed shock. It would seem Sara marked him too, as evidenced by the red marks on his back. As she approached, he turned to grin at her. "Morning. Don’t you look cute?"
"You think so?” she looked down at the shirt she wore, one of his denim work shirts he'd set out on the bed for her. Her long legs and feet were bare.
"Yeah,” he agreed in a sexy, sleep-roughened voice. He tugged her hand, hidden by the long sleeve of his shirt. "Your hair is wild, your eyes are sleepy. My shirt looks better on you."
Sara gave him a crooked smile and ran a hand down his bare arm. She slid her arms around his waist. Since they came together, she couldn’t keep her hands off him. "I love how warm you are.”
He pulled her tight along his body, swayed a little, then dropped a kiss on top of her head. “I’m sorry I scratched you,” she whispered and ran gentle fingertips over the lines on his back.
“I’m not,” he gave a wolfish grin.
Face hot, she nodded toward the coffee pot. "Can I have some coffee? Smells great."
"Sure,” he laughed and reached over to pour a cup. After laying a kiss on his stubbled jaw, she spooned in sugar and added cream from the refrigerator. "What are we having besides sausage?"
"Eggs, if you like.” At her nod, he started to crack them into a bowl and scrambled them with a fork. "Fresh from the farm. I wanted to make pancakes but didn't want to jinx it. Last time we planned pancakes, we got a morning phone call, and everything went haywire."
Gabriel tossed trimmed scallions and shredded Swiss cheese into the eggs. "The same thing occurred to me, so I silenced my phone last night."
"Me too.” Done with the sausage, he poured the eggs into the pan. "But I checked mine this morning. No emergencies."
"I'll check mine later. If anything happened, we would hear from Charlotte.” Loathe to break the mood, she stood behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist while the eggs cooked. Rubbed her cheek on his back. "Being with you makes me happy."
"Thank you, baby.” He lifted her hand, kissed the back of it.
"Now I get to find out what kind of cook you are."
He grinned over his shoulder. "Wait until you try these eggs. Want to set the table?"
"Sure.” Sara searched his cabinets and refrigerator for plates, napkins, utensils and juice. A steady breeze blew in through the sliders off the deck, the morning air fresh and cool.
They ate at the table, enjoyed breakfast and soft smiles in the quiet morning light.
"Gabriel, the supply order came in this week. I told the delivery crew to stack it in the driveway on the crates like you said. I covered them with a tarp."
"Good, I'm anxious to get back to work on the house. With the porch nearly done, we can get the kitchen going. Bet you can't wait to tear up those countertops."
"Got an extra crowbar? I'd love to help. The rest of the downstairs looks so good it'll be great to get it done. Making meals in a brand new kitchen will be fun."
He raised his juice glass, clinked it to hers. "Then let's clean up and head on over."
They rode in Gabriel's truck, nearly at Sara's place when she remembered to dig out her phone and turned on the ringer.
"Damn it.” Texts, calls, and voicemails blew up her phone. “David called."
Gabe frowned. "Does he call often?"
"Not unless he's mad about something or wants to pick a fight.” Her long fingers drummed on the console. He reached over to still them.
"I expected he would call after Bree left so abruptly. Maybe she challenged him as I suggested."
"Are you going to call him back?” His face stayed passive, banking any emotion he might harbor.
"Once we get home. Best get it over with.” Sweat broke out on her upper lip, and her hand shook when she wiped it away. On instinct, she reached down into her purse and the pill bottle. Once she clutched it in her hand, she stared at it. Without a word, Gabriel handed her a bottle of water from the drink holder.
"No, it's okay,” she huffed out a breath, tossed the pills into the bag on the floor. "I can do this."
“You did great,” Gabriel removed the tarp to catalog the delivery against the invoice, then set up his tools to work on the porch. Sara stayed near him, helped him set up.
In spite of their sweet reunion, since David’s call, tension vibrated in the air. Her body language and quietness spoke volumes. "Baby, I appreciate the help, but I see a lot is going on in that head of yours. You’re going to make yourself a wreck. Call him. Get it over with,” Gabriel suggested, firm in his tone.
"You're right.” David must have picked up on the first ring. "You called?” Gabriel watched her even as he went about his work. Nervous energy thrummed through her. Whatever he said to her caused her body to coil with tension. She paced and kicked at the broken shells in the driveway.
Sara pulled the phone from her ear. The jerk must be yelling in her ear. With shaky hands she fumbled
with the screen, putting the phone on speaker.
"Have a nice visit with our daughter? Since she got here, she's been all over me about the divorce. Claims there's information I neglected to share with her. Wants to know what happened, what part I played in it. What the hell did you tell her?"
A bitter laugh escaped her. "The truth, David, which is what she deserves. I told her I was done taking the fall for you."
"Is that right? You two are having problems, and you put it on me?” Gabe kept his hands busy, but it took everything he had not to wrench the phone from her grasp. He knew Sara tried to be fair to him, but the way he spoke to her right now, Gabe would like to smash him in the face.
"Are you serious? When things didn't work out, you let me take all the responsibility for it. You should have come clean a long time ago. I never said anything to her because I didn't think she'd believe me. I also didn't want to make things harder for you when you were trying to get better. But I'm out of the picture now. Clean up your own mess."
Silence followed. He was seething. “You're a fucking bitch,” he spat the word out.
"Maybe I am, but if you don't tell her, and she asks me about it, it's no holds barred, David. You're out of time,” she ended the call, tucked the phone into her pocket. Wild-eyed, she paced, and for the first time, he saw fury claw at her like a live thing.
"Sara.” Moving closer, he held his hand out. “Sara.”
At last, his voice penetrated the haze of frenzy in her eyes. Hands on her hips, her gaze snapped to his. "Do you have a hammer?” she snapped.
"Yeah,” he dragged the word out. "What do you want it for?"
"Hit something, I need to hit something. Give me a big hammer, a box of nails, and show me what to do."
Elated, he flipped open the lid on his toolbox, withdrew a hammer. Let her work it out. Rather than eat the anger, she’d express it, get it out of her system. Much healthier, in his opinion. When she would have ripped it from his fingers, he tightened his grip.