“Gabriel.” Her trembling fingers touch my cheek.
And suddenly I’m terrified. Because she does see me, every dark corner and imperfect edge. It sparks something between us. I can’t look away or stop myself from rocking into her, saying with my body what I’m too afraid to utter.
Take me, have me, love me.
But I don’t need to say those things, because I know in that instant that she already does. On rumpled, linen sheets, she claims me, body and soul, and then offers herself right back. In that moment, I am no longer Scottie or Gabriel, I am something more. I am home. Finally. At last. Forever.
* * *
Sophie
* * *
All good things must come to an end. I knew my time with Gabriel to myself had a limit; he’s too much of a workaholic to stay on vacation for very long. But though we had two glorious weeks to ourselves, it doesn’t feel like enough. Still, I cannot deny that it’s done him well.
Days of sleeping until midday, spending lazy hours in bed making love, or lounging by the pool soaking up the sun, have given him a healthy glow and an easy smile in his eyes.
Days of drinking rich red wine and sopping up olive oil with crusty bread, devouring ripe tomatoes and creamy cheese, have filled out the hollows in his cheeks.
I thought Gabriel was gorgeous when I met him. Now I realize I hadn’t gotten the full story. He’s robust, deeply tanned, and so attractive in his tailored linen suit that I get a little lightheaded whenever I look at him.
He flashes me a quick, happy grin as he navigates the Ferrari over the switchbacks along the Italian coast, and I’m thankful I’m sitting.
“I can almost hear you thinking,” he says, downshifting with authority. Good Lord, the way his thighs strain against his pants…
I cross my legs. “All dirty thoughts, I promise you.”
His grin grows but he keeps his eyes on the road. “Behave yourself, chatty girl. I need to concentrate.”
“It’s like I’ve fallen into the cover of Suit and Car Porn.”
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “There’s no such magazine, Darling.”
“There should be.”
Laughing, he shifts again and accelerates. I’m thrust against the seat as the car leaps forward. Squealing, I throw my hands up and let the wind catch my hair as we race down the coast.
We arrive at our hotel in Naples all too soon. Kill John is doing a show tonight, and then we’re headed up to Milan, and finally Bern in Switzerland.
Gabriel takes my hand as we walk into the lobby. I wouldn’t have expected it, but he loves holding hands. Whenever we’re in close proximity, he finds a way to thread his fingers with mine, his thumb caressing my knuckles or the back of my hand as if touching me soothes him.
One evening during our vacation, I sat with him on the terrace, me drinking wine and him playing with my hand, looking down at it as if he wasn’t sure how he’d arrived at the place were he could freely touch me.
I’d smiled at him then, and he’d tugged me onto his lap. He put his hands to better use after that. And I’d licked wine from his skin until he shivered and growled and demanded dirty things of me in that bossy, manly way of his.
A wistful sigh escapes me, and Gabriel gives me a squeeze. “What’s that all about, chatty girl?”
“I don’t want to say.”
“Which only makes me want to know more. Talk to me, Darling.”
We reach the elevators, and he hits the up button. I shake my head, but give in.
“I’m just being ridiculous and greedy. I already miss it being just the two of us.”
His brows draw together, and he takes a step closer, wrapping me up in his scent and the strength of his arms. Warm fingers slide to my nape.
“Where we are is simply a matter of geography.” Soft lips brush my cheek, and his voice rumbles in my ear. “Remember, chatty girl? I’ll never truly be apart from you because you’re always in here.” He takes my hand and puts it against his temple as he did that night backstage.
I smile and rest my cheek against his chest where his heart beats strong and sure. “And in here.”
“Precisely.”
I love him. I love him so much it doesn’t feel real. I love him so much it terrifies me a little. I’ve never been in love before. I don’t have any experience with processing the emotion. How can it make a person so happy and yet so afraid? I can’t lose him. I can’t. My heart won’t survive.
But he’s here, holding me as if he’ll stay right here, giving me comfort for as long as I need it.
The elevator dings, and I step back. That’s when I see him. He’s looking a little worse for the wear, with a sunburn on his face, but I’d recognize him anywhere.
The bottom falls out of my stomach, and I swallow hard, feeling dangerously close to throwing up.