He relaxes against me, his body going soft and pliant. His breathing starts to even out, becoming deeper and slower. I lie there in the dark, listening to the lake lap against the dock outside the window.
That’s when the fear sets in.
It starts as a tightness in my chest, a cold knot forming in my stomach. I just confessed to my stepbrother what he truly meant to me. I laid myself bare in a way I’ve never done with anyone, not even my ex-wife. I told him I’ve been running from him for years because I wanted him too much, because I knew I could never have him.
And he took me to his bed, let me inside his body.
But what does it mean to him?
The question circles in my mind, gaining momentum. What if I’m just a distraction for him? What if I’m just a temporary fix, someone to help him get over Blaine? What if all of this means something completely different to him than it does to me?
Gabriel’s breath deepens as he falls asleep wrapped around me, his body going heavy and slack. His face is peaceful in themoonlight, his lips slightly parted, and I watch him for a long time, memorizing every detail.
I should feel satisfied. Happy. I just had the best sex of my life with the person I’ve wanted for years. But all I feel is this gnawing anxiety, this fear that morning will bring revelations I’m not prepared for.
What if he wakes up and regrets this? What if he decides it was a mistake? What if he wants to go back to the distance we’ve maintained for so many years?
What if I’ve ruined everything?
17
Gabriel
I wake up to warmth. Not the sticky, uncomfortable warmth of summer nights when the sheets cling to your skin, but the kind of warmth that seeps into your bones and makes you want to stay exactly where you are forever. Marshall’s arms are wrapped around me, one hand splayed across my chest, the other tucked under my side. His breath is steady against the back of my neck, and I can feel the solid weight of him pressed against me.
Content. That’s the word. I feel content like I’ve never felt in my life.
I don’t move, just lie here and let myself feel it, this perfect moment where everything makes sense. The morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. I can hear birds outside, the distant sound of water lapping against the dock, but it all feels like background noise next to Marshall holding me.
Carefully, I shift in his arms, turning over so I’m facing him. He doesn’t wake, his breathing still deep and even, and I take the opportunity to study his face.
He looks younger when he’s asleep. The lines around his eyes are smoothed out, the tension that usually lives in his jaw completely gone. His hair is a mess, sticking up in differentdirections, and there’s a crease on his cheek from the pillow. His lips are slightly parted, and I remember the way they felt against mine last night, the way he kissed me like he’d been starving for it.
I could look at him like this for hours.
Several minutes pass, maybe five, maybe ten. I lose track of time, just watching the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyelashes rest against his cheeks, the small freckle near his temple that I never noticed before.
Then he stirs.
His breathing changes, growing shallower. His eyelids flutter, and then they open, revealing those dark gray depths that have been haunting me for years.
He blinks at me, looking dazed and confused, as if he’s trying to remember where he is.
“You’re still here,” he mumbles, his voice rough with sleep.
I can’t help but chuckle. “You’re in my bed,” I point out.
He blinks again, processing this information. “Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
His eyes focus on my face. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I reach up and brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you think I’m going to bolt.”
