Jesus.
She must be trying to kill me wearing that. The tiny cotton shorts and loose tank leave nothing to the imagination. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before, and seen even more skin when she prances around in her bikinis, but something about seeing her casually dressed and comfortable like this gives me the chills and awakens my cock at the same time.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
Tendrils of her dark hair have fallen out of her messy bun to frame her face, which has a white splotch of flour on the cheek. All I can think about is tugging that band out of her hair and burying my hands in it while I lick her face clean.
Skye quirks her eyebrow at me and crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up and out toward me.
Fuck me sideways.
I take a deep, cleansing breath and carefully consider my words. It’s too damn hard to think straight when she’s looking at me like that, when she fucking looks like that. She’s every man’s wet dream, and I can’t have her.
And isn’t that a fucking bitch.
“Well?” She taps her bare foot impatiently, and the dark red paint on her nails is just another nail in my coffin. Absolutely everything about her is sexy, and my willpower is waning.
Where do I even start? I guess at the beginning.
“I did the right thing, Skye. We would have regretted it.” The words leave my mouth, but I know they’re a lie the moment I speak them. We might have hated the fallout from our actions, but us, together, could never be something to regret. I know that deep down, no matter how much I’ve been fighting it.
Her eyes spark with anger, and she shifts her weight to her other foot. “I wouldn’t have regretted it.”
“You were drunk, and on something, don’t tell me you weren’t.”
She sighs and narrows her eyes at me. “I took a Xanax. It’s not a big deal. I have a prescription, and I fucking needed it.”
“I know that day was awful for you, being there without Star. We all felt it, but you were not in your right mind when you kissed me, Skye. I did the right thing by leaving.”
The more I talk, the more I know I’m trying to convince myself more than her.
“I may have been drunk, but I knew exactly what I was doing, Gabe. And you know that.”
Do I?
I try to think back to before the wedding, to how things were between us before the kiss that started all the shit. It’s a haze, so many years of interactions blurring together but one thing stands out in striking contrast.
Well, one person. Savage.
My best friend.
My business partner.
My brother in every way but blood.
Which makes Skye my sister.
Remember that, Gabe.
“No, you didn’t, Skye. What do you think would happen if we hooked up? What would Savage say? What would your mother say?”
Her cheeks flame, and she clenches her fists. “It’s none of their fucking business what we do, Gabe. We are both adults. We have the right to be happy and, as much as you may try to deny it, we can make each other happy.”
Happy is something I haven’t been or even considered for so long, I can’t even remember what it felt like. I left a huge part of me in the desert, a piece of my soul disappeared with every life I took, no matter how justified it may have been. And the shit with Abello last year only intensified my guilt. It was the right thing to do. I know that. His goons would have killed Dani without a second thought, and where would that have left Savage? Sacrificing my sanity for Dani’s life and their happiness was well worth it. But no amount of sex or therapy has brought me happiness; it’s beyond my reach. Skye should know that.
“What makes you so sure of that?”
Her eyes drop to the colorful linoleum, and she shifts as if she’s uncomfortable under my stare. When she brings her gaze back up to meet mine, the stormy blue there breaks my heart. Skye has been tortured since Star’s death—that much has been obvious—but now, knowing she thinks I am the way for her to find happiness and knowing I can’t give her that, it shatters me.
“Because it’s what I’ve wanted since I was sixteen. Because we know each other better than anyone. Because I’ve seen the way you look at me, and I know you want this too.”
Shit. She isn’t wrong.
I’ve always known she felt something for me, something more, but hearing her say it, lay it all out there like she just did, is something else completely. Skye always plays it close to the vest when it comes to her feelings for people. She keeps everyone at arm’s length and pushes away anyone who tries to get close with her singular brand of attitude and snark. When Star died, Skye essentially closed herself off. But she’s not closed off now. She’s wide fucking open to me, and I don’t have it in me to lie to her. If nothing else, she deserves the truth.
“I won’t lie to you, Skye. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the wedding, and it’s been killing me to fight it.”
A spark ignites in the depths of her hungry gaze, and she drops her arms to her sides. “Then don’t. Don’t stop thinking about me. Don’t fight it anymore. I’m right here, and you know what I want.”
“But what about—”
“No!” She takes a step toward me and holds up her palm, effectively silencing my protest. Challenge dances in her eyes. “None of that matters. What matters is you and me, right here, right now.”
I watch him struggle—with the situation, with himself—and I wonder if I pushed too hard.
Christ, Skye, why can’t you just take things slow instead of trying to force his hand.
Easing him in to the idea of an “us” would probably have been the better course of action. Because right now, he looks like he’s ready to turn tail and run. If he does, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do, because I can’t go on seeing him and pretending there’s nothing between us.
I may have to move.
Biting my bottom lip, I contemplate potential places to relocate.
I think Portland is supposed to be nice, and about as far from New Orleans as I can get.
Just when I’m about to abandon all hope, the look in his eyes flips in a second, from wary to something darker, more primal. He steps toward me, and I instinctively move back until my ass hits the counter.
Hunger.
That’s what it is—hunger. He’s the predator, and I’m his helpless prey.
His hands tunnel into my hair, and his lips are against mine before I can even say another word. He plunders my mouth—our tongues thrashing and ragged breaths mixing. This is Gabe unhinged, and boy, it is fucking beautiful.
My head spins with a thousand questions, but my body won’t let me ask them. If I voice them, this will end, I know it will.
And I need this. I want this more than my next breath right now.
He presses me into the counter, and his hard cock meets my lower abdomen.
Damn this height difference.
With a frustrated groan, he drops his hands from my head to down under my ass and lifts me up onto the counter, aligning his cock in just the right place to rub exactly where I want him. I grind against him and bury my hands in his thick, blond hair, holding him in the perfect position for me to devour his mouth.
“Fuck…” he mumbles against my lips.
I chuckle and tug his bottom lip between my teeth playfully before pulling away to grin. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
It’s like he’s reading my mind.
His left hand slides up under my tank to grasp my breast. He pinches the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending a zing of pleasure straight to my clit. I gasp into his mouth and press my core against his dick, making it abundantly clear what I want.
“You sure?” The question comes out rough and on a ragged breath. He’s hanging on to any restraint he has left by a thread, just like I am.
“Please don’t make me beg, Gabe, not now.”
When his lips find mine again, it’s with a barely-contained hunger. My body hums in anticipation, and he slips his free hand up my shorts. I’m always wet when I think about him, but having him here, about to get what I’ve wanted for over a decade, has me absolutely drenching his fingers.
He pushes two into me.
Fuck yes!
I squeeze down around him, and he breaks away from our kiss and leans forward to groan into my ear. “Christ, you’re so fucking wet.”
He has no idea how many nights I’ve spent dreaming of this moment and imagining all the things he would do to me. I’ve made myself come more times than I can count thinking of his face, his touch, and his cock.
Fantasy be damned, the real thing is so much better.
His thumb slides up and presses against my clit, causing my hips to buck up of their own volition and pushing his fingers deeper inside of me.
“Jesus, Gabe…”
A slow, torturous swirl around my clit has me grinding my teeth together and biting back another curse. He tugs at my nipple and thrusts his tongue into my mouth all in time with his fingers. I’m spinning into orbit, and I haven’t even gotten my hands on him yet.
I need to touch him.
All I can think about is that goddamn nipple ring and how much I want to tug and bite it. My hands tingle, and my mouth waters just thinking about it. And now, I can actually act on the desire I’ve built up for years.
With a brush of my hand, I lift his shirt, and my palm finds the warm expanse of his abs. He shivers and flexes under my touch. The rippling of the tight muscles there is testament to how hard he works to stay in shape, and it leaves no doubt in my mind that he will work just as hard at sex.
Shifting my hand up, I search for the object of my exploration. When my fingers find the metal ring in his left nipple, I can’t suppress my grin and have to break away from our kiss. I tug on it and revel in the widening of his eyes and the gasp that escapes him.
A sly smirk spreads across his lips, and he growls—actually fucking growls—before taking my mouth again.
I can’t wait any longer. His hot skin under my touch and his ministrations are just too much.
Cock. Now.
I reach down and unbutton his jeans before lowering the zipper. His hot mouth on my neck as he kisses his way up to my ear makes my breath stutter. He bites and tugs at my lobe, and when my hand finally grasps the base of his cock, he groans in my ear and a litany of curses fall from his lips.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Skye. Just…fuck…”
I revel in his hard flesh in my hand and tug on it to liberate it from his jeans completely. His cock springs free and a heavenly chorus of angels sings the hallelujah chorus. But when my palm finally contacts the head of his dick, I freeze.