Thank God for small miracles.
I couldn’t keep dragging her along forever. That wouldn’t have been fair—to her or to me.
And… I’m okay now.
Really okay.
I’m breathing without a shiver racing down my spine. Without that familiar clench of fear settling behind my ribs. It feels good.
Safe.
I’ve always wanted to feel safe. And now… I finally do.
Surrendering to this little oasis of quiet, I press my lips to Gabriel’s warm neck and taste his olive skin with a gentle lick.
“Can we swing by my apartment first so I can pick up some clothes?” I murmur against him.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs, resting his chin on my head as his hands slip beneath my sweatshirt, warm against my skin. “Wecould… but clothing isn’t necessary.”
His fingers knead the muscles at the base of my spine, slow and sure, and the sigh that leaves my body feels like it’s been waiting all day.
“However,” he adds, his voice sliding right into my sigh. “I’m thinking that black lacey thong would look spectacular on you tonight.”
His wooing sends a smile tugging at my mouth before I can stop it. Gabriel chuckles and kisses my grin. My lips are glossless today, but judging by how many times he’s kissed me already, I’m guessing he prefers them like this—bare and crisp.
He pulls back and brushes a leaf from my shoulder as I reach into my pocket and pull out my lip balm. He watches closely as I smooth the strawberry-flavored balm over my lips, his eyes soft, curious, and just a little mischievous.
I pause mid-swipe, drop the cap, and roll my eyes as a giggle slips out. He always manages to make me giggle. Tossing out smiles like candy seems to come so naturally for him. It’s one of the things I love most about him.
I wish I had that effect on people.
Maybe I do?
At least, I’m trying.
I glance up at him, cap pinched back between my fingers.
Then, I look away. But he gently cups my burning cheeks, turning my face back toward his.
“Sweetheart, talk to me. What’s going on? Why are you holding back?”
A laugh almost escapes me—almost—but I trap it behind a small wordless smile. That’s all I can manage. Because the answer isn’t funny.
Laughter and sex.
Both of them are landmines.
It sounds ridiculous, I know. But sadly… it’s the truth.
Growing up, I only knew how to do three things—cry, dance, and dream. Laughter wasn’t part of my vocabulary. It wasn’t even allowed close to my world.
But dreaming?
Dreaming was mine.
Dreams were my sanctuary. My playground. My entire universe. In them, I played in the park with my brother. I skipped through the woods with my dog. I smiled constantly—so much that my cheeks would ache. I think I might have even laughed. Especially when Mom tucked me in, tickled me, kissed me goodnight.
I’d lie in bed beside my brother with the biggest smile stretched across my face until it hurt.
