Her manicured fingers traced my pecs and abs as her eyes wandered down to my pants. I had nothing for her yet. “You can touch me, too,” she said.
I knew that. Normally, I’d be touching them first, taking control, turning them on, doing all the work until they were ready for a marathon fuck. Most women, even though they appeared to be in charge, paying for the illusion of control, wanted me to take charge and guide them through the night.
But tonight I was just standing there like a fucking log, making her do my job for me.Just move your hands, put them on her dress and take it off.
My arms barely budged. All I did was wrap them around her waist and pull her into me.
She let out a little moan, pressing her tits against my chest, her fingers digging in the back of my hair. She reached and kissed each head of the three-horse tattoo on my shoulder. Then she made her way up to the neck.
When her lips were on my cheek and her eyes on my mouth, I should have just kissed her, but the feeling of a woman’s lips on mine other than Gabriella’s felt like the last thing I wanted right now. “Hey…would you like to dance?”
A shy smile curved the corner of her mouth while her eyes stayed on my lips. “I’m not a good dancer.”
“How about I dance for you?”
“Like a lap dance?”
“I’m very good at those.”
“Uh… I don’t really like dancing.” Her hands dropped to my belt. “Let’s get you out of those pants.”
Fuck. “Oh, yeah, sure. Let’s get you out of that dress, too.” I put my best performance laugh on as I stepped back. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this. “Sorry, I know it doesn’t sound sexy, but before anything do you have something for nausea? I shouldn’t have ordered those oysters.”
“What? You think the oysters were bad? I had some, too.”
“I don’t know. I just…” I pretended I was gonna be sick and raced into the bathroom. Swearing under my breath, I got my phone out and texted Jared that I got sick and he should issue Margret a refund.
He texted back immediately. A picture of him giving me the finger.
Whatever. Cut it out of my paycheck. I texted back.
I apologized to the lady and left, cursing myself for what I’d done, cursing Gabriella, too. Who would have thought me, Fab, wouldn’t be able to go through with a quick lay because of a woman who wouldn’t even sleep with me, who called me a whore and couldn’t wait for the moment she no longer had to deal with me in her life?
I should want to hurt her the way she was hurting me. I should have fucked Margret just to piss Gabriella off. Why was doing that felt like I was cheating on her? She wasn’t my fiancée. She wasn’t my girlfriend. She wasn’t anything. Why did I give a fuck about what Lady Brighton wanted or didn’t want? Why was I risking everything that had once made my life good for her sake?
One answer flared in my head, but I refused to believe it. But when after that shitty day all I could think of was seeing Gabriella again to tell her I didn’t go through with it, I didn’t want to touch another woman but her even if she didn’t want me, and the whole time I was thinking about no one else but her, it had to be true.
The only logical explanation was that I was in love with Gabriella Brighton.
CHAPTER37
Gabrielle
March 25thwas the only day I took off work. The only day I went through my Pandora’s box and slept in the second bedroom. The day I reopened my wounds and relived the moment that changed my life forever. The moment when I’d lost everything.
Tortured myself much? Yes. I deserved it and then some more.
I must never forget. Never let the pain fade away.
Especially this year because I’d allowed myself luxuries a person like me should never have. I’d allowed myself to hope, to smile, to dream of happiness again. How could I have done that when I’d failed my whole family, when I couldn’t do my most important job, when I couldn’t protect the one person I should have protected with my life?
I took my box and opened the door to the empty room.
Adam’s room.
My son.
