Something changes in Gabe’s eyes. The wild, angry, guilty man is gone. His gaze now holds need, loneliness, and something else I can’t quite place. But the look he gives me tells me our discussion is done.
I understand why no one told me about what happened last year despite my constant probing. With Uncle Dom involved, things are very complicated for the Hawkes. But it’s clear Gabe feels guilty about what happened for some reason, and it’s been eating at him. His father’s death is only going to compound it.
He needs to let things go and let himself be happy. I can make him happy. He just needs to muster up the balls to admit it to himself so he can tell Savage and we can end all this sneaking around.
I’m fucking done with that bullshit.
This needs to end soon, but I won’t push it tonight. He’s been through enough.
I take the empty tumbler from his hand and set it on the coffee table. Then I slip my hand up his chest to his neck and pull him toward me. Our lips touch, and I kiss him gently, not the heated, desperate way we usually do. He pulls back and searches my eyes before reaching down and lifting me by my thighs, urging me to wrap my legs around his waist.
Like I would say no.
He works his way back to his bedroom slowly, seemingly in no rush to get us there.
Before this week, seeing the mussed covers of his bed would have caused jealousy on my part, but now I know it was probably from another nightmare and, instead of making me angry, my heart aches for him. Gabe is a selfless, caring man, and he doesn’t deserve to have to struggle with any of this. No one does.
He lowers me to the bed, never stopping the languid exploration of my mouth with his along the way. God, can this man kiss…
Every swirl and swipe of his tongue ramps me higher and higher.
My body responds to him—fire scorching across my skin with every touch of his calloused hands. This man does things to me I never thought possible. He makes me believe I can truly be happy again.
But only if he’s willing to go all-in with me.
I love him.
No.
I’ve loved him forever.
I’m in love with him—the crazy, head-over-heels, fairytale romance type of love—the forever kind.
There’s no denying it. At least, not for me.
The void I’ve felt since Star died will never fill, but it’s no longer the black, bottomless abyss it once was. I can actually see a future I won’t just walk through blindly, miserable, and hanging on by a thread. I see one where I have a partner, someone who truly understands me and isn’t scared off by the wall of sarcasm and snark I live behind.
I can’t let him push me away anymore.
Tonight is the last night we are going to be together in secret.
Gabe tugs on the hem of my shirt, urging me to sit up so he can tug it off. As soon as I’m free, I release the clasp on my bra and pull it from my arms before lying back against the bed. He descends on me, pressing his warm mouth to my neck, and working his way languidly toward my stomach.
When he reaches the waistband of my pants, he pauses and probes along the edge with his hot tongue. My hips buck up against him and my clit pulses.
Fuck, Gabe is so good with that thing.
I need him between my legs more than I need oxygen right now—his mouth, his hand, his cock—I need it all.
Despite the numerous times we’ve been together over the last several days, it feels like we’ve never taken the time to truly explore one another. We’ve always been so hot and heavy, fast and frantic.
He slips his fingers between my skin and the band of my pants and tugs, taking them down my legs slowly, trailing his tongue and lips along behind them. Goose bumps pebble over my legs, and by the time he finally pulls my pants off, I’m practically shaking.
Instead of returning to hovering over me, he slides backward and steps off the bed.
I prop myself up on one elbow. “What are you doing?”
That damn smirk that makes my ovaries explode stretches across his face. He reaches over his shoulder and yanks his shirt off, tossing it into the corner. I take a moment to admire the artwork on his flesh. In the hundred times I’ve seen it, I’ve never really taken a moment to examine each of the tattoos or assess their meanings. Tonight, I’m going to explore every inch of ink with my tongue since my last attempt was interrupted with his impatience.
A dark image on his ribcage draws my attention. He didn’t have that there two days ago, I definitely would have remembered it. “When did you get that?”
He glances down and shrugs. “Thursday night.”
I have a million questions about the image of the man standing alone in a raging storm, but I suppress the desire to ask them. I don’t want anything to stop him from losing himself in me and questions tend to do that.
I smile at him. “Lose the pants.”
He grins at my order and instead of complying, his hand slides down past his belt, and he cups the giant bulge straining against the fabric of his jeans. “Why? Something you want in here?”
Watching him rub himself is almost enough to make me come on the spot. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he unhooks his belt, lowers the zipper, and shoves his jeans and boxers down, kicking them off to the same corner where his shirt landed.
Vivid memories of his cock in his hand at his office the other night only further soak my panties.
“I want to see you stroke your cock.”
A brow quirks up. “Do you?”
I nod and shift anxiously under his heated stare.
He grips his dick in his hand and slowly slides it up and down the hard flesh. My legs quiver, and I press my thighs together to ease the throb there.
“Watching you touch yourself has to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I swear, I came so hard in your office the other night, I think I actually saw Heaven.”
I freeze. My cock pulses in my hand, but I’m physically incapable of continuing after what she just said. Her eyes widen, and she bites her lip.
Did she just say she was in my office?
Holy fucking shit.
“You were there?”
She nods, unable or unwilling to respond verbally.
I knew something was off that night. Vanilla and honey—the scent that could only be Skye—had lingered there, driving me to the brink of insanity. Now, I know why.
“What were you doing in my office?”
A sly smile spreads across her face. “I went in to take a nap on your couch while I waited for Storm, but then you came in and started jerking off…”
Knowing she watched me make myself come while I was thinking about her is a bit trippy and a lot fucked up. She was right there. I could have walked across the room and been inside her instead of coming in my hand.
“And what did you do, Skye, when you saw me stroking my cock?”
Her eyes spark with amusement. “I was wet as fuck and made myself come.”
I know what she looks like when she touches herself. That first morning, watching her do it on her bed while I was on the phone with Savage, will be forever seared into my brain matter. And she did it ten fucking feet away from me without me even knowing it.
Fuck.
There’s no way I’m staying at the end of this bed any longer. Not after her admission.
The bed creaks as I climb on and work my way over to her. Skye’s eyes churn with something I can’t place. I can’t tell if she’s nervous about admitting her voyeurism or smug because she got away with it.
“You never should have admitted that to me.”
Payback’s a bitch.
She grins and reaches up, wrapping her hand around the back of my neck before dragging me down to her. My mouth stops a mere hairsbreadth from hers. I flick my tongue out and along her lips, savoring the lingering taste of the sweet bourbon mixed with her very own unique vanilla flavor.
It’s better than any twenty-five year Scotch I’ve ever had, and I relish it. But there’s something I want to taste more than her mouth.
I should have done it a long time ago—given her the attention she deserves.
I’m such a selfish fucking asshole.
The need to pound into her has been the only thing driving me, and even though I know she walked away satisfied each time, the fact I haven’t gone down on her every time we’ve been together only solidifies what a greedy fucking bastard I really am. I’ve only tasted her once, that first morning, and it was a race to get her off quickly, not the slow, sensual devouring she should be given.
She deserves so much better, and she’ll have it, once I let her go.
Her body undulates under me as I kiss my way down her body to the thin lace thong barely covering her pussy. I brush my finger across the soaked fabric, and she bucks against me.
“You’re so fucking wet.”
She brings her head up off the pillow and glares at me. “I know, now do something about it.”
I tuck my finger into her panties and drag it through her wet heat. She growls at me, and I chuckle, pressing a kiss to the inside of her quivering thigh. “I don’t know, you let me go on jerking off when you could have just crossed the room and helped me out. Maybe I should make you do it yourself.”
Her fingers twist into my hair, and she tugs my head up until our eyes meet. “Don’t you dare.”
The words go from her mouth straight to my cock.
This is how it’s supposed to be—this give and take, the ability to tease and jab at each other on an equal playing field.
How am I ever supposed to stop wanting this woman?
I won’t. I’ll just have to be better at hiding it and avoiding her.
But for now, for tonight, I’m going to give her something we’ve never had before.
Concentrate on now, not tomorrow.
With a grin and a wink, I yank her panties down and off her legs. They end up tossed over my shoulder without care just like the rest of our clothes.
Skye watches me intently as she’s sprawled out on display for me. It certainly isn’t the first time, but it’s the first time I’ve really taken a moment to appreciate all she’s offering me.
She squirms under my exploratory gaze. The glistening moisture between her legs calls to me like a beacon in a storm, and I drop down between her thighs, setting my mouth exactly where we both want it.
Her taste is even more delectable and addictive than I remember. She shudders and rolls her hips in time with my probing tongue. I delve as deeply into her as possible before spreading her open and slowly licking my way across her wet flesh.
“Oh, God…Gabe…”
Her trembling words make my cock throb and my heart swell. Skye deserves to be worshipped every single minute of every single day like this.
I wish I could be the one who does it.
She grabs my hair and directs me up to her clit. I chuckle against the wet flesh.
Of course, Skye would force me to give her what she wants. She’s not a “wait around and hope it happens” kind of girl.
Frankly, I’m surprised she ever let me push her away in the first place. Getting her to let me go now is going to be near impossible.