“Gabe!” she cries out.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her. “Eyes on me.”
Her lashes flutter open to lock onto mine, and unlike before, I don’t fuck her with abandon. I make love to my girl, showing her with my body what my words have failed to.
As our bodies move together in a rhythm as old as time, I pour every ounce of love and remorse into our embrace. With each thrust, I tell her that I’m sorry. With each caress, I promise never to hurt her again.
Cecilia's breath hitches in her throat as I whisper words of devotion against her skin, my lips tracing the curve of her neck with reverence.
I bury myself deep inside her, losing myself in the feel of her beneath me.
“What are you doing to me?” she mutters.
Pressing my lips to each of her breasts, I dip my hand between us and begin stroking her clit. “Showing you I’m sorry,” I tell her.
Cecilia’s back arches as she reaches the edge at breakneck speed.
“Taking care of you in a way that only I can.”
She shudders beneath me, her release crashing over her in languid waves. “Gabriel,” she sighs my name with her release, and I lean forward, stealing the word from her lips.
My own release is quick to follow, and it only takes a few more pumps inside of her before I’m emptying myself between her thighs.
Collapsing beside her, I pull Cecilia close, her heartbeat echoing against mine.
Her leg hooks over my hip and I press myself back against her core, feeling the warmth of my release dripping out of her.
Something dark and possessive sweeps through me, and for a moment, I’m tempted to shove my cock back inside her, if only to hold my cum in.
Perspiration dots her skin, and I press a kiss to her shoulder.
“We can’t keep doing that,” she says, her breath fanning over my chest.
“Yes, we can.” My arms around her tighten. “You can be angry. You have every right to be,” I tell her. “But don’t …” My voice grows thick. “Don’t push me away.”
Cecilia pulls back. Lifting her chin, her dark brown eyes meet mine as she bites on her bottom lip. “I don’t think I can get past this,” she whispers.
Her confession breaks something inside of me, but I refuse to allow her words to take root.
“Then don’t,” I tell her, shoving my emotions in a box and tucking them away. If I’ve learned one thing in dealing with all the rejection from my own family, it’s that I’m great at compartmentalizing. “Don’t get over it. Don’t forgive me.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Hate me if that’s what you need to do,” I tell her, and I mean it. I’ll take her anger and hatred. I’ll accept whatever she decides to throw at me. “Just don’t push me away.”
39CECILIA
I’m honest enough with myself to know I’m avoiding Gabriel, but I no longer ignore his calls and texts.
We fall into a pattern of sorts over the next two weeks.
We talk on the phone almost daily. He keeps it short and sweet. Casual check-ins and hellos. But I avoid him beyond that.
Sleeping with Gabriel again was a mistake. I know that, and I think he does, too. It’s why I haven’t allowed myself to go to him again.
There’ve been plenty of opportunities.
He invites me over or asks to come see me virtually every other day. And every now and then, I catch sight of him outside my bedroom window, leaning against his motorcycle across the street. He never lingers for long, but he always parks somewhere where he knows I can see him. It’s his way of telling me he’s not giving up on me. That he’ll always be there.
It’s sweet, but despite his efforts and pleas for me not to push him away, it’s exactly what I do.
I don’t know how else to get around it.
