I see Gabriel all day long, but we never mention what happened last night. We can’t. We’ve graduated from isn’t that bunny fluffy to the broad outlines of our lives: how he grew up an Army brat, never in the same place for more than a few years; how I used to have a dog named Goldie. But I can’t say I’m coming back tonight.

Still, even though our conversations are short and scrubbed clean of anything salacious, I like them. I feel like I’m finally starting to put together the pieces of Gabriel.

On one hand, there’s the polite consummate professional who quizzes me on exits and vantage points, who’s constantly on the lookout, who’s always close and protective and ready to take down a threat. Who makes me feel safe, no matter what.

And on the other, there’s the Gabriel who gets me wet with a glance, who pushes me against a wall and makes me moan. The Gabriel who left a light purple hickey on my inner thigh last night, which I found when I took a shower this morning.

That Gabriel finally finds me folding laundry in the family room, and as he leans against the doorframe, I can’t help but blush, even though I can hear my mother talking from the next room over.

He doesn’t say anything, but he raises one eyebrow and just looks at me, questioningly.

My mouth goes dry, but I nod once, doing my best not to smile.

Then Gabriel winks. I wink back. My mother appears behind him, and he steps out of the doorway as she asks if I’ve starched my father’s shirts properly this time.

Just then, I don’t even remember what starch is.

* * *

That night, it feels like it takes forever for all the lights in the house to go out. I’ve already got my stupid pantyhose off, wadded up in a ball in my underwear drawer, and there’s nothing I can do but lie here until it’s finally time to sneak out to the carriage house.

This is stupid. I know it’s stupid. I’m a grown woman — I’m divorced for Pete’s sake — and I’m sneaking out of my parents’ house through a window to go meet a man.

I need to leave. I’ve known that much for months, but I haven’t got anything in place yet, so for now, it’s all tiptoeing past floodlights and holding my breath every time I come back in.

Once it’s quiet, I grab my shoes in one hand and head down the back stairs, barefoot, treading to the far-right side where they’re less squeaky. I skip the sixth from the top and the second from the bottom, and I get to the hall between the laundry room and the kitchen without any sound.

And then I freeze, because there are voices.

I hold my breath and will myself silent and invisible, trying to shrink so I fit into the deepest shadow the stairway has to offer, just listening.

Say you came down for a drink of water. No one will suspect anything...

“But I can’t,” the first voice whispers, and I frown. “It won’t work, they’ll find it, they found the first one...”

It’s my youngest sister, Joy, and my heart tightens in my chest.

Joy, what are you getting up to?

“So hide this one better, dummy,” says my brother Zeke’s voice.

“I can’t,” she whispers, sounding completely miserable. “Pearl will find it again, and this time she’ll tell Mom and Dad and she’ll probably tell them that I’m worshipping Satan or something because she’s way too dumb to know what imaginary numbers are, and...”

In the dark, I raise one eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you’re sneaky enough to enroll in a college math class and not sneaky enough to hide a textbook from Pearl?” Zeke says. “Please.”

Now I’m grinning. I wish I’d been enrolling in college math classes when I was fourteen, but my rebellion was limited to kissing a boy a couple of times. Math might have actually been helpful.

Atta girl, Joy.

“Okay, okay,” Joy mutters. “I just...”

I slip away in the opposite direction, toward the pantry with the window, their voices fading into the background. The window slides up silently, and I get out, go behind the rosebushes, cross the yard in a wide circle. I’ve done this enough in the past six months that I know the route by heart, though when I get to the wall behind the bushes, I go toward Gabriel’s carriage house instead of the loose bar in the fence.

This time, I don’t even have to knock.

He pulls the door open before I have the chance and when I see him, I just stand there for the space of a few heartbeats, savoring the moment. Looking at him for as long as I want, as much as I want, not afraid that someone else will catch me and wonder if I’m thinking lustful thoughts.

Which I am. Obviously.

He’s in jeans and a t-shirt again, barefoot, the lines of his muscles visible through the thin fabric. My insides turn liquid almost instantly as I stare, wondering how on earth this is happening to me.

Gabriel grins and lets me through his door, shutting and locking it behind me. Before either of us says anything, he grabs me and pulls me close, one hand snaking through my hair as he kisses me hard and slow, our mouths opening, a low growl sounding in his chest.

“Do you know how fucking crazy you drive me sometimes?” he murmurs. “I have to make small talk with your mother while she arranges flowers and all I can think about is how wet you were last night.”

All the blood in my body rushes to my face.

“She was talking about her dandelions and all I could think about was my tongue in your pussy,” he goes on.

I somehow blush even harder and turn my face away, because I have literally no idea how to respond to that, even though I’m already wet and aching. But Gabriel just chuckles and lowers his face to mine, talking right into my ear.

“Let me guess,” he whispers. “Nobody’s ever talked dirty to you before, either.”

“No,” I murmur. “And my mother doesn’t grow dandelions, those are weeds.”

“I told you I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Apparently, you’ve never paid attention,” I tease.

“I’ve paid plenty of attention to the right things,” he says. “I know every way an intruder could get into your house, and I know the exact shape of your ass when you bend over to get something out of the oven.”

He reaches down and gives my butt a good, hard squeeze, and we kiss again, harder and faster, the words my tongue in your pussy still ringing through my ears.

Before I know it, his hands are under my shirt. He unhooks my bra and then flings them both off all at once, the cool night air touching my skin. Then he whirls me around, lifts me up, and suddenly I’m sitting on the stairs and he’s leaning me back, his hips between my legs again.

This all still feels wild and unfamiliar, like my body is a mess of competing impulses — to kiss him again, grab his hair, moan, grab his shoulder, tear his shirt off, bite his neck, all at once. I feel like a kid in a candy store, except I’ve broken into the candy store and all the candy is very off-limits.

Also, all the candy is sex.

But then Gabriel kisses my neck again and I gasp, my hands clawing at his shirt, and he nips at me.

“Please don’t leave a mark,” I whisper.

“I know better,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating against me.

“You left one last night.”

His hand slides up my ugly skirt — this one’s khaki — and his thumb finds exactly the spot where I’ve got a purple splotch.

“I know,” he says. “I couldn’t help it, and it’s not like anyone else is gonna see it.”

Then his mouth is on my collarbone, his hand sliding under my panties and at the exact same time, he brushes his thumb along my lower lips and closes his teeth around one nipple.

My whole body jolts, my hand tightening on his shoulder. He flicks his tongue over my nipple as his thumb slides between my folds and I gasp, toes curling.

I cannot believe what I’ve been missing out on all these years. Gabriel hooks his fingers over my panties and pulls, so I lift my butt off the stairs and they come off, flying down the stairs to somewhere on the ground floor of his apartment, but I’m not watching them.

My skirt’s around my waist now. I grab the banister with one hand as his thumb moves to my clit and starts moving in slow, steady circles, his mouth still on my nipple. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing myself not to moan or shout or make any noise at all.

Somehow, I’m once again pretty much naked while Gabriel’s still fully clothed. And somehow, once again, I’m pretty sure he’s going to make me come before I even see his penis.

Because already, the heat’s building inside me. I’ve been on edge all day, nervous and excited and aroused whenever he looks at me, and God knows I’ve been thinking about this constantly. So it’s no surprise that I’m already close, lying back on the stairs as he licks me and fingers me and I hold onto the banister for dear life and try not to make a peep.

A whimper escapes my mouth. Gabriel bites down a little harder on my nipple, and I gasp.

“Shh,” he teases me.

“I’m trying,” I whisper, panting for breath, but he just laughs and sucks my other nipple into his mouth.

As he does he strokes my lips with another finger. My fingers and toes tighten and then he slides the finger inside me, into my tight entrance, and moves it against my sensitive front wall.

I nearly shout, gritting my teeth together, but Gabriel just moves his hand harder, faster. He adds another finger and I clap my other hand to my mouth just in time, because seconds later I come, flying over the cliff’s edge and into the abyss below.

Gradually, it stops. Gabriel takes his fingers out of me and slides his hand around my thigh, kissing my neck again, nipping at my earlobe.

“There’s no windows in the stairwell,” he murmurs into my ear. “I thought maybe you could get all the noise out of your system.”

I’m still gasping for breath, my head back against the stairs. I don’t have a response, but he kisses me again, his hard body against mine, and finally I’ve got the presence of mind to pull his shirt off, tossing it down the stairs behind him.

Then we’re skin-to-skin, and he scoops me up off the stairs and half-carries me the rest of the way into his bedroom. My skirt’s off before the door is even closed, and I’m pulling at his belt, finally getting it undone as his hands drift down my back.

Gabriel groans when I pull the zipper down on his jeans, and then his cock springs out into my hand, long and thick and hard as rock. I hesitate for one second — oh my God what do I do — but then I take it in my hand and stroke him once, hard, from tip to root and back.

He grabs my ass harder and grunts, his eyes closed, so I do it again, then again, and then I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his neck. I can feel his pulse under my lips as I do, still stroking him hard, our bodies pressed together. I move my mouth lower, to his collarbone, then his chest, and then Gabriel groans again, a little louder, and I realize what I’m about to do.

And I don’t think. I let my body, throbbing with desire, take over, and I get on my knees, trailing kisses along his hard stomach, down his light treasure trail, until there it is right in front of me.

It’s big. Bigger than normal, I think, though what the hell do I know since all my information comes from my gay ex-husband and the porn I used to catch him watching. And I’m nervous, but I’m wet and I’m aching and dear God, more than anything I want to hear him make that noise again, I want to make him feel as incredible as he’s already made me feel.

Twice.

So I stick out my tongue and lick the rigid underside of his shaft, my heart beating so fast it’s practically a hum, and Gabriel gasps, so I do it again.

This time he groans, and I take his head into my mouth, moving my tongue around it, careful to keep my teeth away. I swear I can feel him get even harder in my mouth, a deep growl coming from his chest as I pull back, my lips sliding over him.

“Fuck, Ruby,” he whispers, and I curl my toes.

With the next stroke I take him deeper, then deeper, until his breathing is ragged and his cock is hitting the back of my mouth before I pull him out with a slurp, my tongue sliding along the underside. I bob my head up and down his shaft slowly, still getting used to this, but his breathing’s getting faster and he’s leaking pre-cum into my mouth.

“Jesus, that feels good,” he growls. “You like that?”

I do. Even if I’ve been told my whole life that this is dirty, wrong, something that sluts and whores do. I’ve got Gabriel in my mouth and he’s panting and moaning. He’s hotter than hell and I’m doing this to him.

He slides one hand over my head and just keeps it there, gently, while I keep going. Now he’s grunting with every stroke, his cock starting to twitch. I pull him from my mouth and suck at the tip slowly, and even though I feel completely dirty doing this, I don’t mind.

“Stop,” he finally gasps.

I ignore him and suck the tip of his cock into my mouth again, start to slide my lips down his shaft but then his hand locks into my hair and pulls me back with surprising force.

“I’m gonna come if you don’t stop,” he growls, releasing me.

I swallow.

“And?”

Gabriel takes a deep breath and then looks down at me.

“And,” he says, pulling me to my feet, “what I really want is to feel you come while I’m inside you.”

He kisses me hard, even though I’m sure I taste like him, as he winds his hands through my hair. Then he pulls away, a teasing smile crinkling the corner of his eyes.

“If that’s okay with you,” he says.

He walks me backward a step, his hardness practically throbbing between us. I’m wet and aching again, and even though part of me is quietly whispering you can’t have sex with someone you’re not married to, I ignore it.

“It’s okay,” I gasp.

I think that’s the least sexy possible response, but Gabriel just grins and keeps walking me backward, toward his bed.

“So you don’t mind if I just keep getting you off, then,” he teases. “It’s perfectly fine with you.”

I open my mouth to reply, but then we’re up against his bed. He grabs me and tosses me onto it and then he’s on top of me, laughing into my neck as he nuzzles me, one hand skimming along a nipple, his hips between my legs. I swallow hard.

“Right,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says. “Because God knows I’ve been thinking about it since the moment I saw you buying vodka at eight in the morning.”

He reaches into his bedside table and I reach between us, taking his cock in my hand again, my back arching and my hips digging into his. Everything I’ve ever learned is telling me that I should not be doing this, but I couldn’t care less.

How could something that feels so right — so, so right — be wrong?

“Shit,” Gabriel mutters, shutting the drawer of his bedside table. “I forgot I hid ‘em like a porn stash.”

He rolls off the bed and crouches next to it, reaching under the mattress. I raise myself up on my elbows and raise my eyebrows as he pulls out one foil packet and then winks at me.

“Police state,” he teases, leans over the bed, and kisses me hard again, rolling me onto my side.

He tears the package open and rolls the condom on, climbing back onto the bed, pulling my legs around his waist. The tip of his cock bumps against me, sliding between my lips and then up to my clit, and I grab the back of his head and sigh explosively, pressing our faces together.

“Come on,” I whisper as I roll my hips, trying to guide him back to my entrance. I need this, right now, because otherwise I think I might actually lose my mind.

Gabriel kisses me, guiding himself back to my entrance. I tighten my legs around his waist and then gasp as he enters me slowly.

Sweet Jesus, it feels good. He groans into my ear, his hand closing around my shoulder, every muscle in his back tensing, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You okay?” he whispers roughly.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp. He doesn’t respond, just grunts and sinks himself into me faster. I can feel every millimeter of him as he enters, every sensitive spot inside me lighting up with pleasure as he does.

All I can think is, so this is what the big deal is all about.

Then he’s all the way in and I’m panting for breath, filled and stretched because he’s way bigger than my ex, but oh my God does this feel good as we start moving together. There’s something completely intoxicating about it as he thrusts slowly at first and I can feel every single muscle in his body working, hear his ragged breathing as the heat inside me pumps and writhes, threatening to burst free at any second.

After a moment he pauses, then grabs my hips and pushes himself to kneeling, my hips suddenly off the bed, his cock still buried deeply inside me, and I nearly shout.

“Shh,” he teases me, pulling one knee over his shoulder.

“I’m try—” I start, but I just gasp again as he starts thrusting even deeper, reaching one hand up to tweak a nipple. The new angle has me seeing stars, and I bite my lip, eyes closed, hands locked on the sheets as I do my absolute best not to make noise.

I’m right on the edge, Gabriel moving slow and steady and hard and deep. I can hear myself whimpering, because nothing has ever felt like this and I had no idea it could, and then he’s got one thumb on my clit and rubs it in a slow circle.

That’s it. I come explosively, shoving one fist to my mouth as I half-grunt, half-shout, my toes curling as I surrender completely to the pleasure rocking through my whole body. I think I might be melting it’s so intense, but I don’t care.

Then Gabriel grunts, holding his breath, and even through the haze of pleasure I can feel him jolt inside me, again and again.

I don’t want this to end, but gradually, we both slow. I take my hand away from my mouth and my eyes open as he leans over me again, still inside me, and kisses my neck, my ear, my lips. We kiss for a long time until finally, he pulls out and rolls over, flopping next to me on his bed, his erection still at half-mast.

“Was that also okay?” he teases.