And there he is.
I laugh. “It’s you.”
His brows shoot up toward his curls. “It is.” He’s wearing khaki shorts and a gray Tom Petty t-shirt—and socks.
I laugh at his socks.
He shrugs, moving his hands out of his pockets. Which draws my attention to the fact that Gabe had his hands in his pockets. “No need for shoes.”
I step back, waving him in. “Come in.”
“Damn. You cooking something?” He eyes the stove, and I smile.
“Chicken and dumplings. Oh, and pecan pie. For me.”
“I’ve made my peace with pecans.”
“Yeah?”
He shrugs. “Up in New York, I kinda missed them.”
“Yeah, I had to learn to make pecan pie in Chicago. Short of going to a Southern-type restaurant, I wasn’t finding one in any stores.”
His eyes close as he inhales.
“Feel free to take some with you.”
When his eyes open again, he presses his lips together and puts his hands back into his pockets.
“Jesus, Marley.” He gives a shake of his head, like he can’t believe we’re really doing this, and for a heartbeat, I feel almost dizzy with fear that he’s about to back out. Then his eyes rove up and down me, and his mouth curves. “You’re looking fucking good in that thing. Sweater? Tunic? I should know this shit for character descriptions.”
“I would say sweater.” I run my hand along it. “I think tunics are more flowy?”
His gaze tugs up to mine, and I watch his face go serious. “You sure?” he says quietly.
“Is it too crazy for you?” I whisper. “No, don’t answer that.” I hold my hand up. “Are you ready to do something crazy?” I ask, sounding breathless.
“This’ll be the second something.” His words are low and slightly drawled. With his earnest eyes and that low, Southern voice, he sends memories of us driving down The Strip and smoking cigarettes and kissing on a hotel roof cartwheeling through my mind.
I look down at my feet. “I should have made The Plan more thorough.”
His face is thoughtful as he steps a little closer. “What do you need?”
My eyes sting. “I don’t know.” I laugh. “I guess I’m nervous now.”
I can see a bolt of anguish cross his face, and it’s a gift from God. It lets me know he cares.
“You’re not the only one,” he says in that low rumble.
“No?”
He nods, poker-faced, and then I see him bite his cheek as he looks down at my rug. He doesn’t give me more, but then he doesn’t need to.
“I’ll sign papers. Anything you want, so you don’t ever have to worry. I don’t want my child to be without a father, Gabe—like I was.”
For a second, his eyes shut. When he opens them, they’re molten.
“Come here,” he says softly.
I step to him, feeling small and soft and fragile, and his hands cup my shoulders. He looks into my eyes and, with a small squeeze of my shoulders, he says, “One thing, Marley.”
“What?” I whisper as my body tingles.
“No more stealing pork chops. No more shit like that—from me.”
I smile. “You were just being a dick because you wanted me.”
“Not gonna deny that.” His eyelids are heavy as he runs his hands down my arms.
“You wanted me?”
He cups my breasts through my shirt. “Oh yes, Marley. That was never our problem.”
And then he’s kissing me. Soft then hard, tender and then deep, gentle and distant and then rougher, with his arm around my head and our chests pressed together…our hips pressed together.
“Oh God.” When I can breathe, I’m gasping.
Gabe’s mouth is annihilating mine. It’s like…an attack. I’m stunned to find I’m sagging in his arms, my shaking hands are fumbling at his pants. When I can’t get into them, I rub him through the smooth fabric… I rub myself against him and then try to go up his shorts leg. I catch him by his long, hard cock, and Gabe groans roughly into my mouth.
Bedroom.
It’s as if he hears me. He picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and spirits me to my room, where he sets me on the bed, peels off my sweater, and pushes my bra back, freeing my heavy breasts.
“I’ve missed these,” he rumbles, tracing my hard nipple with the tip of his tongue.
I shut my eyes and let my head list back as he sucks, and I moan. He rubs me through my leggings. I open my legs.
“I want your pants off,” I whisper.
“Not so fast.” He rubs my nipple while kissing down my tummy, lying me on my back as his mouth crawls, hot and tender, toward the top of my pants.
He works them off my hips, pushes them down, groaning at the sight.
“Fucking hell, you’re beautiful…”
He leans over me and, with his hands and fingers, starts to play me like a tune. I come so hard and fast, it’s like an out-of-body experience. When I open my eyes, I find him kneeling between my legs with a smirk and a rock-hard boner jutting up in his pants.
“Gimme…” I tuck my legs beneath me and take his pants down. As I look at Gabe McKellan in a pair of boxer-briefs, I think he might be the sexiest man alive. And is it weird that he doesn’t feel like my ex-husband? Just some fuck hot guy I know, a good lay… Someone to have fun with. God, it’s weird, but still, I feel dizzy with desire as I peer at his massive hose of a cock curving as it fights to spring free from the boxer-briefs’ elastic waist.
“Here we go,” I murmur as I free it. I’m rewarded with a nearly audible boing and a moan as Gabe’s head tilts back. “This is kind of crazy, you know that? It’s almost at your belly button…”
I pet the head: little, light strokes with my fingertips, making Gabe man purr. The sexy rumble comes from deep down in his throat, and turns into a growl as I trace my fingers gently up and down his shaft.
When I give his balls a tug, his mouth falls slightly open. “God…”
“You like that, don’t you? Balls are hot. I don’t care what anybody says.” I remember what he likes, the teasing tugs and cupping and the rolls as I stroke his prototypic dick and then, when he’s gripping my shoulders, already panting and on his way to wasted, the way I suck his head into my mouth and squeeze him in between my cheeks. I don’t know for sure, of course, but what I hope is that it feels like hot, soft velvet all around him.
I’m good at deep-throating because of Gabe. One night after we first moved into his apartment in Las Vegas, I begged him to teach me how to give a good blow job, and what he taught, I learned. I feel a bite of pain as I remember younger Marley on her knees like this, wanting so badly to be a good wife. I shove those thoughts away and swallow him back carefully, taking him so deep I feel his clenching fingers grip my hair. I can suck his cock right now and be an awesome baby mama. We’re not in a box, a little box for exes. This shit can be fluid.