by Lily Harlem
“Yes, you’re right.” I settled back in the seat as Gabe pulled out onto the main road.
“You were lucky not to cut your feet back there.”
“God, I know. I can’t believe I was so clumsy.”
“Good job Brent plucked you out of it.”
“Yes.” I laughed. “Like a knight in shining armor.”
Gabe looked at me, his eyes narrowed a little. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Yes, what’s not to like?” I bit on my bottom lip. Should I bring up that I suspected Gabe liked him a hell of a lot more than I did?
No. I’d leave that one for now. Gabe needed to roll that around his own psyche for a while and figure it out.
But I would bring it up.
I wasn’t that patient.
* * *
My day in court was as fraught as I thought it would be. It was a complex case and I was up against an excellent defense team. But my weekend away from it all had left me fresh and ready for the challenge and by the time the jury were dismissed to deliberate I was feeling confident.
“How did it go?” Maria, my secretary asked when I popped into the office on the way home.
“Pretty well, we’ll find out tomorrow.”
She smiled. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Got to be after all that work.” I grabbed a file I needed from my desk and dropped it into my bag. “Could you adjust my diary for the end of the week? I have to squeeze in a meeting with Derek Lyle.”
“Sure, I’ll see what suits him then shuffle you around.”
“Thanks, see you tomorrow.”
I headed home feeling upbeat about my day at work. But as I drew nearer to the house my thoughts turned to Brent and Gabe. Seeing them kiss had been as sexy as it had been shocking.
But had it been shocking? Really? I’d known there was something going on with Gabe and how he felt about Brent. It had been pretty obvious by his reaction to my words in the shower. He was clearly having homoerotic thoughts about him.
I stopped suddenly.
Clasped the handle of my purse.
God, what if him wondering about anal sex and being curious as to what it was like was just a prelude to the real thing? Had his dildo experience with me made him hungry for more?
I carried on walking and turned onto our street.
It seemed, if that were the case, I’d stoked the fire, added fuel to his fantasy, and now he’d had a test run of anal, he wanted the real thing.
The thought, for me, of Brent and Gabe fucking was off-the-scale delicious. I would never have believed my libido would react to something like that, and had it been Gabe with another woman I wouldn’t be able to breathe, exist, it would be the end of me.
But Brent…
No, that was hot. My heart rate had picked up just thinking about it and excitement knotted in my belly.
Gabe had said that not all fantasies could be realized. But some could. And wouldn’t it be crazy there was a fantasy we both had but never let it see the light of day?
That would be wrong, wouldn’t it?
As usual I stopped at the base of the steps to the front door and rooted in my purse for my keys. I found them and let myself in.
“Hayley, is that you?” Gabe called from the kitchen.
“Yes.” I kicked off my shoes. “You’re home early.”
“Yeah, I wanted to stop off and get you these.” He stepped into the hallway, his body and face obscured by an enormous vase of pink and lilac flowers—gerbera and stock, baby’s-breath and foliage.
“Oh, wow, they’re lovely,” I said, moving close and breathing in the heady scent of the stock. “But you didn’t need to do that.”
“I know I didn’t.” He set them on the hallway dresser. “But I don’t buy you flowers often enough and I know how you like them to brighten the house.”
“I do.” I set a kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”
“How did court go?” He took my purse and laid it on a straight-backed chair that held an assortment of junk mail and old newspapers.
“Okay. I’m glad that it’s nearly over for my client. She is getting ready to crack.”
Gabe’s mobile beeped in his pocket. He pulled it out and a small smile twitched his mouth.
“Who is it?” I asked
“Brent, he’s back in Chelsea.”
I should have guessed it was Brent. How many of Gabe’s clients made him smile when he got a message from them. “What did he say?”
“Oh, nothing really.” Gabe started tapping away, replying.
I wandered into the kitchen and turned the kettle on. A pile of takeaway menus caught my attention and I began to flick through them.
Gabe’s phone went again, the sound echoing around the hallway.
Lebanese? Mmm, that was always nice.
“Gabe, what shall we eat?” I asked. “Fancy something from that Lebanese place?”
There was no answer, so I poured boiling water into the pot, shoved in a couple of tea bags then wandered into the hallway.
He’d gone.
I went into the lounge. He was standing by the bay window with his head bowed low, texting.
“Why don’t you just ring him,” I said.
“Who?” He spun to face me.
“Brent. That’s who you’re still texting, isn’t it?”
“Er yes…” He rubbed at his bottom lip with his index finger. “No, it’s okay. I might nip out, see him.”
“What?” I couldn’t help the surprise in my voice.
“He’s going to Bradley’s Brasserie for something to eat. He’s asked me if I want to join him. It’s only down the end of King’s Road.”
“Oh…” It looked like I’d be eating alone again.
He frowned. “He said he’s got something to talk to me about. He’s having a rough time with this divorce.”
“Well, you should go then. He is your friend after all.” I crossed my arms.
“But…”
“What?” I asked.
“No. I won’t go. I don’t want to leave you, Hayley.”
I huffed. “I’m a big girl. I can cope with an evening on my own.”
“I know but…”
I stepped closer. “But what, Gabe? What are you trying to say?” God, if the thoughts I’d had in my head on the way home from work were true, was this the moment he’d confess his new desires?
“I kind of want to see him too, and…” Gabe paused. “He did host us for the weekend.”
“So go. It’s not like you’re having an affair with him or anything.” I started to laugh but then stopped.
Gabe’s face had crunched up, as though he’d stubbed his toe or trapped his finger in the door. The color had run from his cheeks and his eyes had narrowed.
“Gabe?”
His gaze connected with mine. He opened his mouth as if to speak but no words came out. He shut it again and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing down to the top of his collar that was done up and neat, tie knotted.
“What is it?” God. I knew exactly what it was. My saying the word affair had jerked his guilt chain because his relationship with Brent wasn’t totally platonic. There was more to it.
“Hayley,” he said and clenched and unclenched his fingers. “I…”
“Tell me.” I tilted my chin but kept my voice quiet.
He shook his head, just a little, then slackened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt.
He couldn’t tell me. The words were stuck in his mouth, bolted to his tongue. Even loosening his tie couldn’t give his confession freedom.
I’d have to say those words for him.
“You kissed Brent,” I said. “On Saturday night. I saw you. I came to get water and when I found you both, cozy in front of the fire, you were kissing him.”
“Oh, fuck…” Pain seared over his face then he crumbled. His knees folded and he sank to the floor, hunching over his bent legs with his hands covering his face.
I’d never se
en my husband look so small or so wrecked. I’d certainly never seen him fall like a tree being felled.
It broke my heart.
“Gabe, please…don’t.” I rushed to him and knelt at his side.
A sob bubbled up from his chest, racking his ribs and spine.
“Please, it’s okay. It’s all okay,” I said.
“It’s not. You know it isn’t. God, I’m so sorry.”
I hovered my hand over his shoulder, unable to believe that I was hesitant about touching him, but this was all so new, so raw.
“Gabe.” I pressed my hand on his back. He was tense, shaking slightly. “Gabe, it’s okay. I’m not mad.”
“Of course you are.”
“I’m not.”
“Well you should be.” He looked up at me. “I kissed Brent. He didn’t kiss me, I instigated it. I don’t know what came over me.”
I smoothed a comforting circle over his shirt, caressing his flesh beneath. “You like him, it’s okay.”
“Fucking hell, Hayley. Don’t you see?” His face had gone from pale to flushed.
“See what?”
“I’m married to you, I don’t kiss other people, for crying out loud, and…” He frowned. “And I’m not fucking gay either.”
“No, you’re not gay. I know that.”
He shut his eyes and forced the heels of his hands into them. “So why…”
“Why what?” I rubbed my hand over his shoulder and rested it there. “Talk to me.”
“I’ve got to talk to you,” he said, taking his hands from his face. “Because if I don’t get this off my chest I’m going to go insane. And I always tell you everything, but this…”
“This you can tell me too.”
“But what if…if you leave me?”
“I won’t leave you, ever. I love you.” Tears were stinging my eyes. “I love you so much. And we’ll work through this, I promise, the way we’ve worked through everything else that’s thrown itself at us over the years.”
He nodded, swallowed and appeared to regain some control.
My heart was thudding and it felt as if the world around us had receded. There was only us and this momentous shift in our relationship. This new angle of Gabe’s sexuality we had to face.
“When did you start thinking of Brent as more than a client?” I asked.
Gabe took my free hand in his. “The first time I saw him. I just…” He paused. “There was something about him.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“But I swear, nothing has ever happened between us, except for that one kiss.” His gaze searched mine.
“It’s all right. I believe you.” I paused. “Go on, tell me how you feel about him now. What is that ‘something about him’ that you can’t resist?”
Gabe pulled in a deep breath. “I like him, a lot. I like how he talks, moves, smiles at me.” He paused. “The way his thick stubble arcs over his top lip and how his eyelashes droop down a little, rather than curling upward.”
I pulled in a breath. I’d noticed that too. “He has a nice way about him,” I said.
I hoped I appeared calm because inside I was having a million thoughts at once. My husband fancied someone else yet I didn’t feel jealous, just curious. More than curious, fascinated and intrigued. What was wrong with me? If Gabe’s new angle to his lust had shocked him, my enthrallment with it had also surprised the hell out of me.
“I love you, Hayley,” he said. “I want to spend my life with you and if I didn’t have you at my side I’d die.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” I said, attempting a smile.
“I’m not. I mean it. I might look at Brent and think he has a certain…allure and I enjoy his company but I would never swap you for him, or anyone else, ever. It’s me and you, till death do us part.”
“Yes. It is.” I realized that was why I didn’t feel jealous. My husband loved me and he made me feel wanted and secure. I had faith in him and his love and loyalty for me. “I love you, too. Which is why I want to work this out. What do you want? What do you need me to do for you, Gabe? Your happiness is my everything, nothing else truly matters.”
“This is what I need you to do.” He slid his thumb over my knuckles. “Just being here, letting me talk, because I can’t hide it. It’s screwed me up these last few weeks—no, months—thinking about…” He looked away.
My temples were squeezing with pressure yet heat was collecting between my thighs. This had been going on inside of him for months? “Thinking about what?”
“Brent. Fucking Brent. Him fucking me.” He’d blurted the words out in a fast string of sound. “When Nadia accused him of a relationship with a man I kept thinking about him in bed with a male lover…me…”
For a moment I was quiet, then, “I’ve done the same. I’ve thought about that too…a lot.”
I’d thought he might look surprised, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded. “Yes, what you said in the shower, about fantasizing about men screwing, I thought maybe you’d guessed my new desires. That you were winding me up. Goading me.” He tugged on his bottom lip. “Taking the piss out of me.”
“I’d never do that.” I shook my head. “No. It’s true. That night with the dildo, it changed something in me. I started thinking about men together, what they do, how they fuck, how they come.” My throat was tight but the confessions kept falling out. “I’ve looked at men on the Tube, at restaurants, on the street, wondering if they’re gay, how they kiss, how they show their desire…who bends over.”
“God…” He blew out a long low breath. “But why…?” His sentence tailed off. “Why would a woman…?”
“I don’t know why it turns me on. It just does. Isn’t that the thing about fantasies? They don’t have to make sense. You don’t have to explain them. They just are, they’re just hot.”
“I suppose.”
“And your fantasy is to have a night with Brent. A night being intimate with him.”
He didn’t respond.
“A night as lovers. Him taking my place.”
“No.” He gripped my shoulders and squeezed. “Never, never taking your place.” He shook his head. “I love you. I don’t love him, this…this attraction is consuming, it could be obsessive, but it isn’t love.”
My chest tightened. “Good.” As I’d spoken I realized that I was pleased it wasn’t love. Lust I could compete with. Lust turned me on too.
Love was a whole different ball game.
Gabe relaxed his grip and sank lower, lower still. He placed his head on my lap and wrapped his arms around my waist, his legs folded on the hearth rug.
I stroked his hair and he closed his eyes.
“It’s all okay,” I whispered. “You’ve told me now, and it’s all okay.”
“Thank you,” he said. “For being so understanding.”
“It’s not something I’m having to work at, I do understand.” I wiggled my fingers through the short strands of hair behind his ear. “I can see what you need and I’m going to give it to you.”
“What do you mean?” He kept his eyes shut and his cheek on my lap.
I pulled in a deep breath. This would change everything, but I was banking on it being a change for the better. Gabe couldn’t go on like this, consumed with need, racked with confusion, and he needed my permission to satisfy that curiosity. “Have your night with Brent,” I said. “Fuck him, let him fuck you. Do all the things that you’ve been thinking about.”
“What?”
“Go for it. Seduce him. Be seduced.”
He sat up, his eyes wide. “Are you really saying this?”
“Yes.” I knotted my fingers together. “I am, because I hate seeing you so confused.”
“But you?” He shook his head. “I can’t risk hurting you.”
“It won’t be hurting me.” I smiled a little. “You can tell me all about it afterwards.”
“Bloody hell.” He rubbed at his chin.
“I just have one rule,” I said. “Because hone
sty is always the best policy you have to tell Brent that I know. I don’t want him to think that it’s an illicit night together. Me being unaware and cheated on.”
“Okay.”
He still appeared in shock. But I guessed he had a right to. I’d imagine not many wives would be as open minded as me.
“I couldn’t bear to be thought of as a victim, an unknowing wife,” I said.
“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Fuck, that sounds as though I’m going to do it.”
I leaned forward. “You will, Gabe. I know you will.”
“I don’t know.”
He pulled me close, his big arms holding me tight and his body hard and solid against mine.
His strength was returning. He was becoming my pillar, my protector, my lover again.
I buried my face in his neck and breathed in his scent. I smeared lipstick on his collar but I didn’t care, I just needed to be near him.
“I won’t go out tonight,” he whispered. “I need to be with you.”
Chapter Eleven
I walked out of court the next day elated. I’d got my client the settlement she deserved from the company her ex-husband had interest in. They’d discriminated against her when she’d returned from maternity leave after remarrying.
It was being hailed as a landmark case and I’d given a statement to my client’s union as well as The Evening Standard about its impact on the future of employment law.
For a few hours, thoughts of Gabe had been absent from my mind. But now, riding the elevator back to my office, I wondered how his lunchtime meeting with Brent had gone.
I’d been pleased that Gabe had decided to stay with me last night. I’d felt it as acutely as him—this unburdening of fantasies—and I’d needed to be held.
We’d eaten light—soup and a sandwich—then lazed on the sofa, wanting to be physically connected. That feeling hadn’t changed when we’d snuggled into bed and we’d made love quietly, slowly, relishing the absolute and soul-deep connection we shared.
How was he feeling now? Had he spoken to Brent about what he wanted? How he felt about him?
My stomach lurched a little as the elevator reached my floor. It wasn’t entirely to do with gravity, there was excited apprehension mixed in.