It’s strange to see these familiar wounds reflected back at me from someone I’d categorized as privileged. I’d assumed Gabriel’s confidence came from a lifetime of security, of knowing who he was and where he belonged.
But he’s been desperate for a validation I recognize all too well.
I don’t offer empty comfort or platitudes. Words like “it doesn’t matter” or “they’re still your family” would ring hollow between us. Instead, I reach out to flatten my palm over his chest, where his heart races.
As the seconds stretch into minutes, his breathing steadies, his heartbeat relaxing. “You’re the only person I’ve ever told. Not even my brothers know how much it eats at me.”
“We all have ghosts that haunt us.”
Gabriel’s hand moves to cover mine, feather-light as if expecting me to pull away. When I don’t, his fingers settle, warm and solid on my skin. “Thank you.”
I shrug with discomfit. “For what? Not being an asshole about it?”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a fragile smile. “For listening. For not telling me it doesn’t matter when it does.”
I study Gabriel, realizing that what I once thought was arrogance hid a fragile uncertainty. Slowly, I shift closer, my hand trailing from his chest and down the center groove of his abs to toy with where the sheet covers his hips.
Gabriel goes still, his breathing shallow. He tracks the movement, uncertainty visible in the tightness around his mouth as he waits to see what I do next.
“I lied,” I whisper. “This does change things.”
Disappointment flashes before he locks down his emotions. “Worried you might not have bagged a billionaire?”
“No.” My hand dips below the sheet to trail through the curls that frame his cock. “I don’t need your money or your gifts. But I like knowing you’re not perfect.”
His body relaxes at the words, tension draining from his shoulders. His hand rises, pausing inches from my cheek, asking permission without words.
I lean into his palm, his skin cool beneath my cheek. The touch remains light, exploratory rather than demanding.
His thumb traces my jaw, following the line to the corner of my mouth. “Can I kiss you?”
My eyes narrow. “Don’t think, just because I let you top last night, that it will be a regular thing.”
His cock stirs, begging for my hand to move lower. “I’d never dare to presume.”
“Good.”
When our lips meet, there’s none of the desperate clash of the night before. No teeth, no battle for dominance, no driving need to escape or forget. His mouth moves over mine, learning the shape of my lips without rushing toward more.
The kiss deepens, my tongue sliding along the seam of his mouth. He opens for me with a groan as his hand cups the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair without pulling or controlling.
I shift closer, pushing the sheet aside so that nothing separates us. Our hard lengths align, and I grip his ass, my hips moving in a languid roll.
His breath hitches, and his leg hooks around my hip. Taking the hint, I push him onto his back, sliding my body over his, chest to chest, legs tangling. The friction of skin on skin sends electricity through my nerve endings.
Gabriel’s hands settle on my hips as he writhes beneath me. “Want you inside me.”
“No need to rush,” I murmur against his throat,feeling his pulse jump beneath my lips. “We’ve got nowhere to be.”
His fingers flex on my hips. “We can go slow next time.”
“Be good and show some patience.”
My hands map the planes of Gabriel’s chest, fingertips tracing the definition of muscle beneath smooth skin. His breath catches when I circle his nipples, the small buds hardening under my touch.
I bend to replace fingers with mouth, tongue flattening over his sternum, tasting salt and sleep and the faint trace of expensive cologne that clings to him even after a night in my bed. His hands slide into my hair, his back arching.
“Why do you always smell so fucking good?” I murmur, lips caressing his skin, and the vibration of my words pulls a soft whimper from his throat.
