Rainis what I almost say.
But his lips land on mine, stealing my breath and my words.
“Okay,” he says simply, brushing his thumbs across my damp cheeks. “One thing at a time, chulo. Start with today. Today, you are safe. You’re choosing to be here… with me.”
I swallow, pulse fluttering like wings beneath my skin.
He’s right—Iamchoosing this. Choosing him. Even if the storm inside me still hums, still rains, still trembles.
Gabriel brushes his nose against mine, soft and warm.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dipping into something gentler. “I know you’re scared. And in time, you’ll tell me why. I’ll listen… and I’ll still be here. Because I love you. But right now, you’re safe with me.” His palms settle at the small of myback. “You don’t have to give me everything all at once. You just have to be here.”
Something loosens in my chest at that—like a knot I’ve been carrying for years finally giving way.
“I am here,” I whisper. And it feels true. It feels like a beginning.
He kisses me again, slower this time, deeper, more like a promise than a tease—and my fingers curl into the front of his jacket, holding him close.
For the first time in a long time, the storm doesn’t swallow me.
It softens.
Almost clears.
I shift direction, walking backward so I can keep watching his face. God, he’s beautiful. And his eyes are really something—thick bands of light gray swirling through deeper shades of the same color. Like clouds twisting through a storm.
But I’m not afraid of this one.
This storm doesn’t thunder. It doesn’t chase me. It doesn’t swallow me whole.
This one I can see myself living in.
12
NOAH
Gabriel’s handssurf across my hot skin, making waves in my veins. I push myself against his body, groaning loudly when he latches onto my lips and sucks them into his mouth like a vacuum, running circles over the flesh with his tongue.
“Oooooo…” I moan, parting my lips to grant him full access.
“Ah, Noah… Jesus.” He exhales into my mouth, tongue curling around mine, erections rubbing together through the silky material of our underwear.
I can’t stop the soft whimpers falling from my lips as he lifts himself up with one hand and grabs my cock with the other.
“Christ, Noah. Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”
I push into his hand.
“Ooooo…putain,” I hiss, and he sucks the French swearword right out of my mouth. He slips my underwear down past my knees.
“You speak French?” he murmurs, pulling away just long enough to catch a breath—then his mouth is on mine again, cutting off my reply.
I hum in answer, the only sound I can manage as he rolls to the side, keeping my lips captive between his teeth, gentle but possessive.
“Lube, sweetheart,” he pants, releasing my lips and reaching across the bed, granting me a nice view of his cock.
It’s long and thick, veins like threads of ink, resting against his olive-toned skin. He looks like a dream.
