My thoughts fade out of focus, everything I just learned from Noah retreats to the back of my mind. Not gone, just… quieter. Distant. For now.
“Did you drug me?” I mumble, eyeing Gabriel with half-lidded suspicion.
He chuckles, tossing my socks off to the side of the bed and tugging at the drawstrings of my lounge pants. Except… these aren’t mine.
I squint. “Are these yours?”
That smug smirk answers for him.
For fuck’s sake. I’m wearing his pants.
I flop back, missing the pillow entirely. I’m so mentally drained, I can’t even bring myself to care. Gabriel, of course,fixes it for me, sliding it under my head with ridiculous gentleness.
This—this—is exactly what I meant when I said he cares. He could have just dumped me on the bed and called it a night, but instead he helped me out of my clothes, made me some coffee—with coconut liquor—his idea, naturally, and hummed some off-key Spanish lullaby in the kitchen. Against all logic, it relaxed me, which is surprising, coming from the one person who’s an expert at getting on my last nerve.
I take a sip of the coffee, the warmth settling what’s left of the tremor in me, and then he takes it from my hands, setting it beside the bed.
“Mind if I lie down with you?” he asks, yawning, looking as wrecked as I feel. I’d nearly forgotten he was up all night at the hospital with Noah.
Under normal circumstances, that would be a hard N-O. But right now, I don’t have an ounce of energy to care.
“Go ahead,” I mutter. The mix of coffee and liquor has me so relaxed, I can’t seem to muster up a single flying fuck about whether he stays or goes.
Kicking off his shoes, he stretches out beside me, leaving a respectful amount of space between us. His shorts hang low on his hips, the red waistline of his underwear peeking out at the top. He crosses his ankles and laces his hands behind his head.
As we both settle, he clears his throat. “What happened with Noah tonight?” he asks softly. “Talk to me, Alex. Because I need to understand some things too.”
I fling the pillow aside. “Talk? Really? Because the last time I tried, you slapped your mouth on mine.”
He smirks. “That was babbling. And it worked.” He runs a hand through his hair. “And no, I’m not apologizing. I’ve wanted to taste your lips for a long time.” He turns to the side, fingers lightly brushing my bottom lip. “Now I have my answer.”
“I didn’t realize you had a question,” I snap.
“Mm. My question was, ‘What do your lips taste like?’” He tugs my lip gently. “Answer? Strawberries. And sin.”
“Good thing you love both,” I reply, breathing through the panic tunneling through my chest.
“That I do,” he drawls in that thick Spanish accent. His expression shifts. “I love Noah too. Just… not a fan of sin.”
And just like that, my mood sours. “Then maybe you should get out of this bed.”
“Maybe,” he taunts, smirk sliding back into place. “But Elijah asked me to stay by your side until he gets here, so that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“I don’t think he meantliterally, Gabriel. And besides—how does he even know I’m with you? You were on your way to see Noah, not me,” I quip, needing to set the record straight.
“I called him,” Gabriel admits. “Told him I found you barely able to speak—though we both know you were running your mouth like an expert… all over mine.”
The wink he tosses my way makes me flinch—and he doesn’t miss it. His hand softens against my cheek.
“I’ll keep that between us,” he purrs. “Anyway, Elijah said he was going to stop by Noah’s to check on him. Naturally, he was worried—especially after what you told me, and then… what we found.”
I lift my head. “What did you find?”
“Poems,” he says, nonchalantly, brushing a finger across the arch of my brow. “About you.”
“Poems?” I echo, trying to breathe through the sudden weight in my chest. “I wasn’t aware he wrote poetry.”
“Me neither.” He sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. “Eight months together and somehow I missed that.”
