Chapter Twenty-Nine
Gabby
“Gabby!” Jonathan’s voice rings through the quiet of his apartment. “Gabby, where are you?” He sounds almost frantic.
I sit up from the bed, wiping my eyes. I managed to hold back my tears while waiting for the car to pick me up and the whole way here. But I wanted to indulge, get it all out of my system before letting Jonathan know what happened at lunch with his mom. And I texted Lauren, needing a sympathetic ear to vent to. I don’t want to insult Jonathan’s mother to his face. But I needed to get rid of some of my vitriol.
“In here,” I call, moving to the living room.
Jonathan meets me at the door to his room, pulling me into his arms, squeezing me close to him. “Oh, thank God. You’re here.” He’s breathing hard, like he’s been running or working out, but he’s not sweaty.
I pull back a little to look up at his face. His eyes scan over me, taking me in, and his hands cup my cheeks, his thumbs brushing over the tear tracks, a sound of distress coming from him. “I’m so sorry.”
My brow furrows. “What? Why? Did you do something to be sorry for?”
He shakes his head, his eyes meeting mine. “I’m sorry for my mom.”
Nodding, I step back enough to make his hands drop from my face. He lets out a frustrated sigh and runs a hand through his hair. I sniff and wipe at my own face, nodding some more. “She told you?”
“Yeah.”
“And what do you think?”
He lets out another sound of distress, pulling me in again. “I wish you wouldn’t,” he whispers against my hair.
“Of course I wouldn’t.” I pull back again, wanting to see his face. “I promised you before that I wouldn’t break up with you again. And if I wanted to for some reason—which I don’t—it wouldn’t be because your mother tried to convince me to do so.”
He rears back, confusion marring his features. “What? What did you say?” His fingers tighten on my arms where he’s holding me. “My mom tried to convince you to break up with me?”
Slowly, I nod. “She said that a long distance relationship would never work, that you’d end up begging me to come on tour with you, and then I’d resent you for making me give up my dreams.” I shake my head. “I got so mad that I left. I called an Uber and came here. I didn’t want to sit there and listen to her tell me that I was a distraction and that giving you up would be the right thing to do, for both of us.”
He makes a strangled sound, almost laughter, but like he’s choking on it. Then he pulls me in, settling his chin on my head. He huffs out another humorless laugh, shaking his head above mine. “She made me think that you were changing your tickets and leaving early. She tried to convince me to let you go, basically saying the same thing. That it was better for both of us if we weren’t together. That we want things that pull us in opposite directions. That we’ll never be able to make it work.”
“You thought I was leaving?”
He nods.
I let out a snort. It would be funny—maybe—if it were happening to someone else. “Why does your mom hate me so much?”
“Oh, Gabby. No. She doesn’t hate you.” His voice is soft and pained. “She just thinks she knows best for everyone. Even when she doesn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If I’d known she was going to do this, I never would’ve let you go to lunch with her. I promise you don’t have to talk to her again.”
With a crooked smile, I look up at him. “Never again? Somehow I doubt that. She’s still your mother. And unless you’re planning on breaking up with me or cutting her out of your life entirely, I’m sure I’ll have to speak to her again at some point.”
He sighs. “Fine. You won’t have to speak to her again on your own. And probably not at all for a long time. I don’t plan to either. I’m too angry with her for trying to pull this.”
I want to say something. Tell him that he shouldn’t treat his mom like that. But when I see the hurt on his face, the drawn and tight set to his jaw, I realize that anything I say now will only upset him more. And if he decides not to talk to her for a while, well, she brought that on herself. I can’t bring myself to feel any sympathy for her.
Instead, I wrap my arms around him again, snuggling against his chest. I feel him relax by degrees, a sigh coming out of him that sounds like surrender and relief.
This time when I pull back, it’s to go up on my toes and press a kiss to his lips. He responds immediately, his hands sliding to my hips, pulling me tightly against him. One hand slides up to cradle the back of my head, and he holds me in place while he feathers light kisses over my lips, along my jaw, across my cheeks, and then back to my mouth. He seals his mouth over mine, sucking my lower lip between his teeth, biting gently, then swiping his tongue across it. I open for him, sliding my tongue against his, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing myself against him as much as I can.
His hands glide down my back, pausing to squeeze my ass and press me against him where he’s hard and ready beneath the fabric of his shorts. A needy sound escapes my throat and Jonathan growls in response, his hands cupping and lifting me up. I hold onto his shoulders and wrap my legs around him, which presses him harder against my center, the seam of my denim shorts giving enough friction over my clit to spike my arousal even higher, wrenching another sound of need from me.
He moves swiftly to the bed, laying me down, his hands roaming my body, sliding my shirt up and over my head with something akin to reverence. His eyes take me in like he’s memorizing everything. I reach for him, and he comes to me, the soft cotton of his shirt brushing against the bare skin of my belly. My hands skim under the fabric, pushing it up so his skin can touch mine. We still have too many clothes on, but I want his mouth on mine.
Like he reads my mind, he kisses me slowly, his arms braced on either side of my head, holding himself above me. His knees spread my thighs apart enough for him to settle between my legs, his kisses deep and drugging. I never want this to end.
Except when he rocks against me, I wish our clothes would just disintegrate so we wouldn’t have to stop kissing to take them off. I want him inside me. Now.
He rocks against me again, drawing a moan from both of us. My hips lift against him of their own accord, which seems to be some kind of signal he was waiting for. He breaks away from my mouth, leaving me gasping as he rocks against me harder this time, the firm ridge of his erection rubbing over me right where I want him. But I don’t want all these clothes between us anymore.
“Jonathan,” I manage to gasp, but he’s focused on kissing his way down to my breasts, pulling the cups of my lace bra aside and drawing a nipple into his mouth. Arching, I gasp again as his fingers tug on my other nipple, then he switches. “Oh my God.”
He smiles against my skin, and now that he’s moving down my body, I can’t even get the unsatisfying friction of feeling him through our clothes.
But then his hands tug at my shorts, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. I lift my hips as soon as he’s done, ready to be rid of my shorts and panties.
His fingers slide over me, rubbing around my wetness before delving inside. Then his mouth is on my clit, his tongue drawing lazy circles. My hands claw at the comforter underneath me, clutching handfuls of the fabric as his fingers and tongue play over me. My hips rock against him, finally getting something close to what I want.
He doesn’t play with me, doesn’t take his time today. He ramps me higher with each swipe of his tongue, each plunge of his fingers, each tap against my G-spot. And in almost no time, I’m there, shuddering as I come.
Before I have any time to recover, he’s standing, stripping off his clothes and rolling on a condom. He’s back in place, kneeling between my legs, rubbing the head of his cock all over me, making me shudder with each pass. Finally, he lines himself up and presses inside me.
He lets out a groan, his forehead touching mine once our hips meet. “You feel so good, Gabby,” he whispers, his breath fanning over my face.
“So do you,” I whisper back, and his mouth hitches in a hint of a smile.
And he moves, drawing a groan from me, one of his hands going under my thigh to pull my leg up and back, changing the angle, making it better, letting him press deeper. With what leverage I have, I lift my hips to meet every slow thrust, loving the drag and friction, the way our bodies move and fit together, knowing how to make each other feel good.
His pace is deliberate, but he starts to move faster. I move my other leg, holding myself open for him, raising my hips so that each stroke hits me in just the right place. “God, you make me feel so good.”
He groans at my words, picking up the pace even more, and the first sparks of impending orgasm tingle through my body.
“Come on, Gabby,” he rasps. “I can feel you almost there. I need you there. Come with me. Come for me now.”
He thrusts hard once and then again, and that’s all it takes for him to wring another orgasm out of me, my arms and legs wrapping around him, clutching his body to mine as we shudder through our bliss together.
We lay there, holding each other for several minutes before either of us stirs. Jonathan gets up to dispose of the condom, then comes back and gathers me against him, one arm under my head, the other across my body, his legs tangled with mine. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips.
I almost want to cry as we lay together, wordless. But I hold back the urge. I’m not sad. I’m overwhelmed. The emotional rollercoaster of today is catching up to me, and I sigh as I release his lips.
With me tucked against his body, Jonathan sighs too. “Why didn’t you call me?”
I don’t pretend not to know what he’s talking about. His hold on me keeps me from shrugging. “I was so mad. I wanted to calm down before I talked to you. She’s your mother, and I didn’t want to vent my rage about her at you. I was going to call you. I just needed to chill first.”
He seems to mull that over for a minute. “I wish you’d called me to come get you. Or texted to tell me you were leaving. I would’ve met you here, at least.” His lips skim over my temple, and he lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry she ambushed you like that. I had no idea.”
“Me either. I knew she wasn’t my biggest fan. I feel like I should’ve seen it coming, but she caught me completely off guard.” I turn my head to meet his eyes. “Is this going to be the way things are the whole time? It seems like no one wants us to be together. First your manager, now your mom.” I shake my head.
His green eyes spark with anger and frustration. “What are you saying, Gabby? You want to call it quits because two people think I’d be better off without you?”
“No! No.” I shake my head. “No, Jonathan. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just … sad, I guess. My parents think I’m too young for a serious relationship, even though my mom was nineteen when she married my dad. Your mom and your manager both think I’m a distraction for you. I just wish there was someone on our side.”
His arms tighten around me, his eyes softening. “Let me worry about my manager and my mom. For the record, they’re wrong. You’re not a distraction. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if they can’t see that, then they’re the ones missing out. I’m not going to change things around just to make them happy, especially when I’d be hurting myself in the process.”
I kiss him, needing to show him that I appreciate his faith in our relationship. When I pull back, the spark of anger is completely gone, replaced by love. I draw in a deep breath. “And my parents?”
A sad smile pulls at his mouth. “You’ll either have to convince them that this is the real thing, or learn to live with their disapproval. I’ll do what I can to help, but I’m afraid that the only thing you can hope for is proving them wrong.”
“But how do I do that?”
His smile gets a little bigger, a little brighter. “Stay with me. Make it work. And get older.”
I laugh at that. “So you’re saying I have to wait. I guess that’s all I can do.”
He kisses me again, soft and sweet. “I love you, Gabby. And I’m in this thing. I want you forever.”
Smiling, I snuggle in closer. “I love you too, Jonathan. And I’m in this thing forever too.”