“Quit.” He reached my hand, but I pulled away.
“You’re ticklish.” I laughed out loud. “The wolf is ticklish.” I grazed all four of my fingers across his back, and his entire body convulsed. I couldn’t stop laughing.
“I can’t believe it.” I found it hysterical that my guy, who could be so damn fierce and strong, almost came apart from a few light touches across his back.
“Believe this,” he growled before moving from beneath me, pinning me against the bed on my back.
Slowly, he lowered his head, dipping to suck my bottom lip into his mouth. I was amazed that after the round we’d just finished in the shower, I could feel moisture pooling in between my legs again.
I’d always enjoyed sex but never had been this insatiable.
“The wolf is ticklish,” I sing-songed when Gabe released me from the kiss.
“I’ll fucking show you ticklish.”
He started to reach for my panties, but I pushed him away and rolled to the other side of the bed. I pulled open the top drawer of his nightstand to get the box of condoms he kept there.
I felt for the box, but instead of making contact with it, my hand grabbed something else. When I lifted it, I realized it was an envelope. The words ‘For Gabe. My Wolf” were written in cursive on the outside of it.
“What’s this?”
As soon as I asked, Gabe snatched the envelope out of my hand and tossed it back in the drawer. He grabbed the box of condoms and slammed the drawer shut.
“Looking for these?” He threw the box onto the bed, but he avoided making eye contact with me.
“Gabe, what was that?” I asked, sitting up on my knees.
“Nothing.” His voice was tight, laced with tension.
“If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be so pressed about it. What was it?”
“I said it was nothing, Lena. Let it go.” The increased volume of his voice only spurred my curiosity.
“A woman wrote it,” I said. I could tell from the handwriting. “Are you keeping letters written by other women in your nightstand?”
I felt stupid for even asking. Maybe it was an important letter from an ex of his that he didn’t want to part ways with. A part of his history that he didn’t want to let go of. I should’ve been sensitive to that, but I wasn’t.
“If you’re keeping letters from other women, tell me now because I am not going through any of the bullshit I dealt with in my last relationship again.”
Gabe pinned me with a scowl. “Don’t ever compare me to that douchebag.”
“Then tell me what that was? Who is it from?”
I wanted to know more than I wanted my next breath. The fact that Gabe’s entire demeanor changed when he saw that letter in my hand told me it was important to him in some way.
I wasn’t sure if my heart could take it if it was something from another woman he was in love with, or at least seeing.
“It’s from my mother,” he finally said, his voice barely audible.
Frowing, I sat back on my heels.
Gabe slowly pulled open the drawer, retrieving the letter. He held it up, turning it around. “It’s a letter from my dying mother.”
“Gabe.” I glanced up at the envelope in his hands. “It’s unopened,” I said, staring at the closed seal.
His jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth. He stared at the envelope in his hands. “I’ve never read it.”
I did the math in my head. Gabe was only twelve when his mother died, and he was twenty-eight now.
