“You’re mine. I’m yours. Never alone when we have each other.”
The words of a promise made in the dark bring a smile to my lips for the first time today. Often, I’ve wondered what happened to the small boy from that foster home, but I don’t even know hisfull name to look him up. I’m sure he’s just another sad statistic.
“Knock, knock.” The words and accompanying sound make me jump where I’m standing across the room and pull me from my spiraling thoughts.
There stands the person I least want to see right now. He nearly takes up the entire doorway with his wide, muscular shoulders and too easy smile. His hand is wrapped around the doorframe. My eyes land on his thick, tattooed fingers—fingers that were inside me just days ago. I blush at the thought and divert my eyes. He smirks, clearly enjoying my embarrassment.
“You looked lost in thought,” he adds when I don’t say anything.
How long had he been standing there, watching me, without me even knowing?
“You should probably leave.” I stand and pace the far wall, refusing to look at him. “Friday night was a mistake.”
“And Thursday night?” Gabriel asks with a smirk that makes butterflies take off in my core.
“Also a mistake.”
I worry the cuticle of my thumb with my teeth as I wait for him to say something, anything. The skin tears slightly, causing sharp pain to sting along the corner of my nail. The metallic taste of blood hits my tongue.
“No.”
The sound of the door closing, locking, steps moving across the floor has my eyes flitting up. Gabriel hasn’t left. In fact, he’s sprawled in my desk chair, with his arms perched playfully behind his neck as he leans back.
“No,” he repeats. “I don’t think it was.” He smirks and a small dimple appears in his cheek.
“I’m married,” I state boldly as I take a step forward and place my hands on my hips.
As I briefly look down, I notice that a small speck of bloodhas fallen from my thumb and landed on my white blouse. I discreetly run the cut along the rough denim of my skirt, letting the slight pain ground me.
Displeasure flicks across Gabriel’s face. Just a little and just for a moment. He lets out a slow breath before leaning forward and steepling his hands together, elbows resting on my desk. Annoyance pricks at me as I notice his elbow shift my planner slightly, leaving it crooked. I like my things in order. Everything neat, everything perfect, everything how it should be.
I’m in control of my things, my life, myself.
He smirks as if he notices my annoyance, which only fuels the growing fire inside me.
“Get on your knees,” he says slowly and directly.
It takes me a moment to process what he’s saying. And when I do, my eyebrows shoot up.
“Excuse you?” I ask incredulously. “We’re at school!”
“The door is locked. We won’t be disturbed. Trust me.”
I want to trust him, to trust someone, and have it mean something. But do I dare?
When I don’t respond, he cocks an eyebrow at me. “I won’t ask nicely a third time,” he leans back, jutting out his chin and leveling me with a dark stare. “Get on your knees and crawl to me.”
“You’ve got to be fu—” my argument dies on my tongue as I watch the desire burning in his eyes.
I am a strong, self-assured, powerful woman. And yet, I can’t seem to stop myself from hiking up my skirt and bending until my knees hit the rough carpet.
“That’s it,” he says with a hint of praise in his tone. “Get out of your own head for a moment and just fucking let go.”
I hate that I’m on my knees. I hate that I’m giving in to this despite my earlier resolve. And most of all, I hate that he’s right. As I kneel on the floor, the coarse carpet digging painfully intomy knees, I feel the weight of anxiety lessen on my chest.
“Come here, beautiful,” he beckons, and despite my conscious brain telling me to absolutely not crawl to this man, I find myself sinking forward onto my hands and slowly scooting across the room.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Your ass up in the air like that is almost too much.”
