“Perfect. Thanks, Gabriel. I’ll text you the address.”
I don’t say another word. I just hang up, slip my phone into my pocket, and ride.
Because seeing Amber again, helping her with her new house, feels like a trip down memory lane I have no interest in taking. No matter how nice of a guy I am.
And by the fifth mile I’ve already forgotten about her and I’m back to thinking about Alessia and what I’m going to do to show her she should want more with me.
Chapter 26: Alessia
I think I got the best sleep of my life.
Okay, no—Idefinitelygot the best sleep of my life last night. Or at least the best sleep I’ve had in the past two years since dealing with the revelation that my husband was cheating on me and got his mistress pregnant while surviving the war zone that was our divorce.
When I woke up this morning, I could stillfeelGabriel between my legs. The soreness where he’d lingered, the way that the heavy weight of his cock had stretched me like no one had ever done before. And the moment I swung my feet on to the floor a gush of him trickled down my leg. Again. It’s exactly the way I’m sure he was hoping my morning would start. With a very clear, physical reminder of him.
I wish there was a way to make it linger for a guy too. Like, imagine if they had to walk around all day dripping from the tips of their cocks with our cum? Dick’s leaking and smelling like us because they came so hard the night before. But no, biology decided that’s a woman-only built in feature.
After showering, I went downstairs, not sure what I was evenlooking for—maybe to somehow casually or not so casually bump into him while he drank his morning coffee. But the house was quiet and empty which is of no surprise. Gabriel works in New York City which means he probably wakes early to catch the train or make the drive.
And instead of feeling disappointed, I felt...relieved. No awkward morning-after discussion. No trying to decode what last night meant to him or me. Because last night was… intense and I’m not sure how to process any of it. I’m not sure I should.
So, I threw on some clothes and ran up to the grocery store, grabbed ingredients for my grandma’s favorite oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and got to work. Baking, cleaning, making sure I left no trace behind in his very nice, recently remodeled, kitchen that he clearly takes great pride in. I’ve already damaged the paint by his front door with my heels, the last thing I need is to create more rework for him while he’s graciously letting me stay here.
I’m not sure what it is about knowing he can fix anything in a home, but it’s nice.Provider of the familyenergy worthy.
Don’t think about that. Don’t think about how much you like that.
My gaze lifts almost without my permission, drifting out the kitchen window to the table that’s still sitting in the yard. The one he built for Natasha and me. It looks even prettier in the sharp morning light. The wood grain catches the sunlight; the surface is smooth and pale against the cold.
And instantly I feel him again. Between my legs. His rough fingers. The heat of his body pressed inside me. I picture him out there working on it. Thinking of me. Seeing a need and fixing it. The buzz of the table saw as he cut the boards down to size, the steady hum of the sander smoothing the surface until it was perfect with his strength. Strong hands turning something raw into something beautiful without any sort of blueprint.
Now there’s a thin dusting of snow across the top of it. Like he never bothered bringing it inside after he finished to protect it. Like after what happened on the rug in front of the fire with me, patience was the last thing on his mind. Like he just looked at the table, looked at me, and decided…fuck it.
A flush covers my cheeks, and I divert my eyes back to the dishes I’m rinsing. The suds in the basic are cold now and my hands are dry but my whole body still feels hot with need.
When noon rolled around, the cookies were packed up, the dishes were washed, and I had nothing left to do but sit and stew, over-analyzing everything that happened last night for the hundredth time.
No real plans—because whatever that was with Chris last night went nowhere thanks to Gabriel’s dick and dirty mouth. And Gabriel is still nowhere in sight.
I bite down on my bottom lip, considering my options and then decide it’s a good thing he’s not home. I’ll head over to grandma’s and come home later when he’s already asleep. No awkward run-ins. Nowhat happened last night?Yes. This is for the best.
I grab my coat and my purse off the hook by the door, but before I can open it, it’s opening and Eden’s walking inside. She smiles easily when she sees me.
“Oh, hey, Aly.” She gives a little wave. “Good to see you again.”
Eden—with her dark auburn hair and pretty green eyes that look almost like Gabriel’s hazel ones but lighter. She’s the youngest of the family, twenty-two, in her senior year at NYU’s design school. From what little I’ve heard from Gabriel, she’s a creative at heart and helped him remodel and redesign all the furniture in their home which is impressive because it’s beautiful and there’s wooden pieces everywhere.
“Hey Eden,” I twist my hands together nervously. “I hope it’s okay I’m staying here temporarily,” I say, suddenly feeling likemaybe I should’ve asked her permission too before moving into her sister’s old bedroom.
She waves me off, already making a beeline for the coffee maker. “Totally. Gabriel told me. Stay as long as you like. I’ve missed having another girl around, though I’m barely here between classes and the boyfriend.”
I step forward, following her into the kitchen. “How’s your last semester of school going?”
She takes a sip and sighs with a smile. “Really well. I’ve applied to full time positions with two design firms I’ve had my eye on. One in Hartford and one in New York City. Hoping for an offer before I graduate.”
“What type of products would you be designing?”
“Furniture. I know it’s niche, but I’ve always loved working with Gabriel to repurpose stuff for the thrift store before we closed it and I kind of always knew it’d be what I did long term.” She smiles. “Eventually, I want to find ways to design pieces using repurposed and recycled materials—really bring it full circle instead of creating more waste. There’s a lot of that in furniture development.”
