Phone call from America.
18
ELIJAH
“Ah, the memories,”Gabriel coos as I push open the door to my private suite.
It’s a place we’re both familiar with; the closest hotel to my parents’ house on the island, and one in which we’ve shared many whispered words and wild sex.
He makes a beeline for the fully stocked minibar and grabs two bottles of whiskey, uncapping them both as he walks across the room.
“Do you really need another?” I toe off my shoes and stand by the corner of the bed, planting my hands on my hips. “I’m almost certain you must be feeling those shots you threw back downstairs, not to mention the ones I’m pretty damn sure you ordered on the plane.”
Holding both bottles in one hand, he strides unsteadily over to me, crowding himself into my space. “What I’mfeeling, Elijah, is a desire to be fucked.” Those stormy gray eyes drop to my lips, and I take a hold of his shoulders to steady him.
“You know that can’t happen. I’m with Alex now.”
Defiantly, he places a hand on my waist, dragging his thumb against my skin. “The way I see it, Elijah, is you’re withmenow.” He pulls me closer, testing my patience… and my willpower.
Ignoring him, I remove his hand from my waist and grab the two bottles of whiskey, placing them down on the nightstand. “Let’s get you in the shower, love.” I spin him around and nudge him gently in the direction of the bathroom.
“Now we’re talking,” he slurs, stripping out of his shirt and unbuckling his shorts as he wobbles over to the spacious shower.
I roll my eyes, following his movements as memories rush in—the way he used to pull me into showers after long nights just to talk, forehead to tile, skin soaking wet and radiant; the soft way he’d hum when he thought I wasn’t listening.
But this version of him—slurring, stumbling—is someone I barely recognize. He’s grief in motion.
I flick on the light, dousing us in brilliant white light, sharp and exposing, before everything plunges into darkness again.
A flare of annoyance sparks in my chest.
“Don’t fuck around, Gabriel. Turn the lights back on.”
“I’d rather be turningyouon,” he says, voice low, taunting, but trembling on the edges.
He closes the distance, his bare skin pressing against my fully clothed body, and he takes my face gently between his palms.
“Shower with me, Elijah,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing my cheek like a memory. “Like old times.”
He pauses, eyes searching mine, voice breaking just enough to crack something open inside me.
“I need you.”
My cock thickens, but I ignore it. I’m not doing this. I’m not cheating on Alex. What happened downstairs was a mistake—just a momentary lapse in morals. Nothing more.
I turn away, reaching blindly into the shower and twisting the knob. Water bursts from the nozzle, sharp and cold, makingme flinch, just as Gabriel’s hands slide over my ass and he hums low against my skin.
I straighten back up.
“I’ll be waiting for you in the other room,” I snap, my voice tight as a wire. I dim the lights on my way out. “I’ll call the front desk and have them prepare another room for you.”
Silence.
Not even a breath behind me.
I should ignore that too. Really, I should. But I don’t.
Against my better judgment, I glance over my shoulder.
