He finishes with, “… a very nice conversation.”
That grabs my attention. “He called youalready?”
The surprise in my voice has Gabriel looking at me strangely. I literally just gave Alex his number over dinner tonight. I hadn’t expected him to call so soon.
Now mildly irritated, I fake another yawn, hoping it will mask the itching crawling up my spine to text Alex and figure out what is going on.
“Well, I’m glad you got to speak with him,” I say, forcing a smile. “But, Gabriel?—”
“I know. I know. Relax, mi amor.”
He brushes his thumb across my ankle, causing the coarse hair on my leg to lift, and when he gives my ankle a light squeeze, I feel it all the way to my heart.
“I’m heading back to bed,” he says. “You treat your American model well, sí?”
God, this man. My chest swells with so much love, so much adoration, so much...everything. Gabriel meanseverythingto me.
“Of course,” I manage, snapping myself out of my fucked-up thoughts. “I most certainly will.”
“Muy bien, Elijah.”
Those stormy eyes hover over my body, and he makes no attempt at leaving. His soft touch wreaks havoc over my heart as his thumb drags lazily across the hair on my leg. It feels nice,soothing… fuckingintimate. It wrecks me in ways he doesn’t even notice.
“What happened to us, Gabriel?”
I hate that my voice is gravelly. Hate that I gave in to the pull of him again. Hate that I went ahead and askedthatquestion. Again. For the thousandth time.
I sound weak. Pathetic. And I’m neither one of those.
But when it comes to him, I just…
He drops his chin, causing layers of silky waves to fall across his too-handsome face.
Without thinking, I reach up and tuck a few strands behind his ear.
The feel of those silky waves sliding through my fingers every time we fucked flashes through my mind. Or how he used to fall asleep with all that gorgeous hair fanned out across my bare chest.
God, I miss that.
Miss the way I used to touch him—run my fingers through his hair, grab fistfuls of it at the back of his neck, and bunch it up on top while he bobbed on my cock.
Fuck. I need to stop thinking like this.
But there’s something he wants to say, and I can’t let this go. I can see the battle raging behind those eyes. Hell, I canfeelit.
“Jesus, Gabriel, just talk to me.”
His fingers do what mine so desperately miss—they slide through his hair, pushing thick waves away from his gorgeous face.
He meets my gaze, and I hold it, waiting. Waiting for an answer I already know won’t come. It never does.
I get silence.
Every time.
This time is no different.
“Good night, Elijah.”
