“But you still could’ve told me.” His brow creases into a frown.
“I wasn’t just going to tell you I was gay. I was going to confess my deepest secret. That I was in love with my best friend.” I feel the tears well up in my eyes at the memory, and I don’t stop them running down my face. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, but he tightens his hold on my hands.
“You’ve been in love with me since you were seventeen?” he rasps.
“No, Gabby,” I croak. “I fell in love with you the first moment we met. When you looked down at me from your horse, like some golden-haired knight who saved me from my grief and loneliness. I didn’t have words for it back then, but when I really understood myself, I knew it was then.”
Tears track down his cheeks, and he presses his lips together and swallows deeply, trying to hold it together.
I pull one of my hands free and lean forward, cupping his cheek and wiping away his tears. He gives me a weak smile. I run my thumb across his bottom lip and see his breath hitch. Slowly, I lean in further and press my lips to his. They’re as soft as I imagined, and I take a moment to enjoy their feel before pulling back and resting my forehead against his. My throat is thick and my own cheeks still damp.
“Since I’ve known I was bi, I’ve never met anyone who was like you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time too. It was why it took me so long to get in touch with you.” His voice shakes.
“I’m here now,” I say and kiss him again.
“What about Oscar?” he asks when we part this time.
“I’m not interested in Oscar. His attention was flattering but it’s nothing more.” I stand and pull Gabriel up with me.
“Oh, thank god. I couldn’t bear the thought of you two together.”
“I never thought you’d be the jealous type.”
“Only when it comes to you, baby. Jealous, possessive, all of it. If he weren’t Oliver’s brother, I think I would have hit him. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, I kinda love it,” I say, kissing him again before we make our way back to the party.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHARLEY
A loud knocking on my door brings me fully awake from the lovely deep sleep I was enjoying. It starts again and I sigh, dragging myself out of bed and pulling on some sweatpants.
“Is there a fire? Have the horses escaped?” I wrench open the door and see Gabriel standing there, holding a paper bag.
“No, but I brought breakfast.” His eyes drop to my naked chest and a smile forms.
“What time is it?” I scrub my hand across my jaw. He looks suspiciously bright and awake. I know he’s a morning person, and I am too, but it’s Sunday morning, and to say it’s been a weekwould be the understatement of the year.
“About nine,” he replies. That is late for me, as I’m usually up before seven every day, but I still feel tired and drained.
“Okay, you’re excused.” I huff a laugh and stand back, letting him enter the cottage. He walks through to the kitchen and putsthe bag on the counter. When he turns round I move into his space and put my hands on his waist as he wraps his arms round me.
“Good morning,” I whisper and lean in for a quick kiss. When I pull back his smile is lopsided and his body is taught.
“I wondered if last night was a dream and I’d imagined what you’d said.” My heart breaks a little that he seems so unsure, but I understand. Despite wanting Gabriel for so long, this is new and odd for me too. We have a lot to talk about, but I don’t want it to get heavy right now, and certainly not before I’ve had coffee.
“Do you think I kiss every guy who brings me breakfast?” I raise an eyebrow and feel the tension leave his body.
“You might, how would I know?” he teases, and kisses me this time.
“Well, how about this? I’ll kiss you when you bring me breakfast...” I peck another on his lips. “And when you don’t...” Another kiss. “And every time in between.” One more quick kiss to make my point.
“I can live with that.” His lips touch mine this time, and he moves his hand to the back of my head, deepening the kiss. I open up and his tongue slides against mine. I dreamed of this moment, this kiss, for so long, never believing it would happen, that I let out a filthy little moan. He tightens his hold on my head and my body. I need it, as I don’t think my legs can hold me up any longer. I grip his hips, pulling him towards me. I can feel his trousers strained tight across his hardness, and my cock responds in kind. My body moves of its own accord, grinding against him, and he shudders slightly. I need to stop now while I still can. I’ve waited too long for this to allow our first time to beme rutting against him in the kitchen, especially as I still haven’t had coffee. It takes all my willpower, but I pull back reluctantly. His chest is heaving as he looks at me with his wet and glistening lips and dark lust-filled eyes. He’s gorgeous, and I nearly give in and dive back in. But instead I commit that look to memory, knowing I’ll see it again, and whisper, “Not yet. I want to wait.”
He nods and closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them they’ve returned to their usual bright blue.
I peel myself away from him and look down at my sweatpants, tented with my cock, which doesn’t agree with the decision my head just made. The small dark wet stain of precum tells its own tale. He takes it in and licks his lips, and my resolve nearly breaks.
