by Alexis Daria
As Gabe got ready for bed that night, exhausted from a day of travel and riding the emotional roller coaster that had become his life, he reminded himself that this was why he’d left. Being here, around the people he’d left behind, pulled him into a hurricane of drama and doubt. Yeah, there were times he felt alone, but he was strong in his convictions, and that mattered more. Better to be alone and focused than surrounded by people who didn’t believe in him.
With that in mind, Gabe picked out his clothes for the next day, zipped his suitcase, and set an alarm for early the next morning.
He didn’t need these reminders of who he’d been. As much as he still wanted her, he couldn’t let Michelle trap him here, in such close proximity to painful memories.
Tomorrow, he was leaving.
Chapter 6
Michelle woke early the next morning. Too early, but she couldn’t get back to sleep, her mind full of thoughts of Gabe. Beside her, Jezebel was curled into a warm ball.
The summer morning light seeped past the bedroom curtains, which at one time had been pink, like the bedding, walls, and carpet. She’d shared this room with her sister before Monica had gone off to college and Michelle eventually moved down to the basement. Since then, it had been repurposed as her mother’s craft room and painted a soft yellow with white furniture and plastic drawers full of jewelry-making supplies and washi tape.
To an extent, Michelle understood how Gabe felt. It was weird to be sleeping in her parents’ house in her now-unfamiliar childhood bedroom. It had to be even stranger for Gabe, who hadn’t been back for many years.
When Michelle had conceived of this plan, some part of her hoped that having him here would make her feel . . . happy. She remembered being happy when they were young, whereas these days the best she could hope for was mild contentment. Plus, she’d missed Gabe more than she cared to admit. She’d expected some nostalgia, some reminiscing about the good old days. Excitement about the Agility project and catching up on what they’d been up to since they’d last seen each other. After all, they had college and all of their twenties to rehash.
What she hadn’t expected was the simmering arousal. Like all of her cells prickled with awareness of him. Like he was a giant magnet pulling her inexorably toward him, and she was powerless to stop the attraction. It was a force of nature, undeniable in its strength, laughing at her to just give in. To stop fighting it. You want him, dummy.
Michelle shoved the blankets aside and slid from the bed. This line of thinking was doing nothing but making it impossible for her to get back to sleep, and now she had to pee. Jezebel immediately burrowed into the warmth Michelle’s body left behind, making herself at home in the center of the bed.
Michelle stepped into her chancletas and left the room silently, making sure to avoid the creaking floorboards under the hall rug and on the stairs. She used the downstairs half bathroom so as not to wake Gabe by flushing the toilet on the other side of the wall from his bed, then went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. If she was going to be up and about, she might as well caffeinate.
She was taking her first glorious sip when she heard the toilet flush upstairs. Odd, it was the hall bathroom closer to her parents’ room. The pipes made a different sound in that one. Maybe Gabe didn’t want to wake her up?
It was barely 6 A.M., and for Gabe, it would be three hours behind. She stayed quiet, sipping her tea slowly. He would probably go back to bed. But then the ceiling creaked overhead, followed by the sound of footsteps moving toward the stairs.
Setting the mug on the counter, Michelle left the kitchen to greet him, intending to ask if he wanted tea or coffee. She hadn’t thought he’d be up yet, so she’d made only the one cup for herself.
“Morni—” she started, then stopped short when she saw Gabe, frozen mid-step, right on the middle stair that always creaked.
He was already fully dressed . . . and carrying his suitcase.
Surprise and a rising wave of anger made her heart pound.
Eyes narrowed, Michelle propped a hand on her hip. “And just where do you think you’re going?”
Oh god, she sounded just like her mother.
And like a teenager caught sneaking out—because really, what else could he be doing?—Gabe cringed. His shoulders hunched up near his ears and his lips parted in a grimace.
“Um . . .”
He seemed to be at a loss for words, but despite the early hour and minimal caffeine, Michelle was not. Besides, she didn’t need an explanation. His intention was clear.
This motherfucker was leaving her again.
Michelle stomped to the bottom of the stairs and glared up at him. “You’re sneaking out. Don’t even try to make up some bullshit excuse.”
Gabe’s eyes flashed, anger rising in their dark depths, and he straightened, setting the suitcase down on the step beside him. “I’m leaving.”
Michelle scoffed and crossed her arms under her breasts. “Yeah, I can see that. You’re really fucking good at it.”
His gaze flickered to her breasts. She hadn’t put on a bra yet, and her pose had pushed up her ample tits.
Her nipples tightened as she thought of how, the last time she’d seen him, he’d had his hands and mouth on her breasts. She adjusted her stance slightly to make sure he could see the points of her nips poking through the thin fabric of her sleep tank. Why should she be the only one plagued by sexually frustrating memories? Besides, she was pissed.
“Get your ass back upstairs,” she said, in a tone that brooked no argument.
Gabe’s lips tightened, and he gave her an exasperated look, one she remembered well. It was the look that said he thought she was being a bitch but wouldn’t dare tell her so.
And fine. Maybe she was. She hadn’t told him they’d be staying here, suspecting that he never would have agreed to it if he’d known about the change in plans. But she’d also hoped that the familiar surroundings, the nostalgia, would bring them closer together than staying in a bland hotel room would.
Well, so much for that.
Gabe picked up the suitcase but instead of going back up, he started down the rest of the stairs. “Michelle, you know I can’t stay here.”
She held her ground and used the only leverage she had. “What I know is that you agreed to stay with me in exchange for me taking on this project.”
He came to a stop where she blocked the bottom of the stairs like Gandalf on the bridge declaring, You shall not pass. They faced each other, him towering over her from his greater height and the added boost from the last step, her gazing up at him with nothing but cleavage and chutzpah as her weapons of choice.
Michelle fought a shiver of awareness. He was so close, the sleepy annoyance in his eyes too fucking endearing. And she was wearing practically nothing, just a thin tank top and little shorts. Her pulse fluttered, and she saw he was breathing hard too. She didn’t think it was from exertion, since he was still holding the suitcase like it weighed less than Jezebel had when she was a kitten.
“I agreed to stay with you in Manhattan,” he said, breaking into her thoughts before she could undress him with her eyes. “I did not agree to stay with you here.”
“So you’re leaving again.” Michelle couldn’t help the emotion in her voice, although she would have banished it if she could. “Just like that. Without a word.”
“Michelle. You lied to me about where we’d be staying.”
Ah, so they were on Michelle now instead of Mich. He must really be mad. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. Maybe she hadn’t set out to deceive him, but in the end, that’s what she’d done. Still, she wasn’t letting him go without a fight.
“What were you going to do? Sneak out while I was asleep, call for a car, and have them drop you off at a hotel?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” From his defensive tone and the look on his face, she could tell she’d hit the nail on the head.
“You’re supposed to stay and deal with your problems instead of running aw
ay again,” she shot back. “You and I have a lot of unfinished business, Gabe.”
He stepped down to the floor and set his suitcase beside him. Michelle didn’t back up, though, and the move left them toe to toe, both breathing hard.
Her heart thumped at his nearness, at the spark of anger in his dark eyes. Maybe it was perverse, but she liked him like this, pissed off and prickly. The Gabe she’d known had shied away from conflict, never raised his voice, and let her take the upper hand in all their arguments. This Gabe wasn’t backing down, and it was as sexy as it was infuriating.
He leaned down to look her right in the eye. In a deceptively soft voice, he asked, “Do you know why I left?”
“No, I don’t know why!” The memories flooded back—the betrayal, the hurt. How much she’d missed him. The missing had been like a sickness, taking up permanent residence in the pit of her stomach. “You didn’t even talk to me about it.”
“I did, actually.” His jaw was like granite. “I tried to talk to you about my parents. But every time I brought it up, you defended them. You didn’t see that I was drowning here. If you had, it wouldn’t have surprised you that I wanted to leave.”
“Fuck your parents!” She pressed her hands to her face, embarrassed by the outburst. “Sorry, I don’t mean that. But this isn’t about them. You also abandoned me.”
In a nervous move she remembered, he took off his Yankees cap and smoothed a hand over his hair. “I had to get away from here, get out of this life.”
“That doesn’t explain why you ghosted me.” Her voice hitched, and she hated it. “It doesn’t explain why you didn’t reply when I reached out, why you—”
“Michelle.” Gabe interrupted her tirade and wrapped his fingers gently around her wrists. She hadn’t even noticed she’d been waving her hands around. His thumbs stroked her skin, right over her pulse, and she calmed slightly.
“I needed a clean break, and you . . .” He let out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. “You were the only person with the power to drag me back here.”
The silence that followed his words settled onto her skin, making her feel tight and tense.
“Why?” she whispered.
He released her wrists. “What do you want from me, Mich?” He sounded tired. Defeated.
But he’d called her Mich.
She stepped closer, if such a thing were possible. Their bodies brushed, the points of her breasts nudging his torso.
“Why was I the only person?” she pressed, her tone insistent. “Why, Gabe?”
The spark in his eyes was her only warning.
“Because of this!” The words burst out of him like a storm. He curled his big hands around the thin straps of her tank top, clinging like they were a lifeline, and lowered his forehead to hers. His voice was harsh with longing. “God, Michelle, I want you so fucking bad I can’t think straight.”
Desire coursed through her, hot and dizzying. Was it the answer she’d expected? No. Would she take it?
Hell yes.
She leaned in further, pushing her body into his. Her hands came up to grip his thick forearms. “This is why you ignored me?” she demanded, her voice breathy. “Because I’m too sexy and amazing?”
He groaned, his fingers tightening on the delicate straps of cotton. She imagined him ripping them, her shirt falling off her body.
Yes. Take it off. Touch me.
It was what she’d said back then, the memory burned into her brain. She was very close to saying it again now.
“It’s because I can never say no to you,” he ground out. “Seemed smarter to keep my distance, in case . . .”
“In case of what?”
His voice was low, the backs of his fingers hot against her skin. “In case you asked me to stay.”
“And what if I had?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you ever do anything about it before that day?” This was another thing she’d wondered about. She’d known him too well to think he was just an opportunist taking advantage of her teasing.
“We were friends.”
“Well, we’re not anymore,” she murmured, searching his expression as if it held more answers.
“You’re right. We’re not.” He sighed and some of the tension left his body. In a move that surprised her, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft kiss. “I never wanted to hurt you, Mich. I’m sorry that I did.”
Her pulse beat heavy and thick in her throat. The moment held a note of unreality. Gabe was here, his hard, hot body pressed to hers, his hands wrapped in her clothing, his cheek resting against the top of her head. The scent of his cologne was faint, the world around them quiet, save for the light chirping of birds outside.
I want you so fucking bad.
The words she’d pulled from him mingled with her own feelings, her own memories, her own needs.
“Gabe?” She waited for him to meet her gaze again. When he did, she licked her lips and said, “I think it’s time we finished what we started.”
He blinked, eyes going wide. “You mean . . .”
“We’re never going to move on until we get this out of the way.” And then she went up on tiptoe, leaning her body flush against his. Lowering her voice, she whispered in his ear, “Let’s fuck.”
Chapter 7
At some point during the argument, angry tension had turned to sexual tension. Gabe’s jet-lagged brain couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but it was impossible to mistake where they were now.
Let’s fuck.
Michelle’s words rang in his ears, heating his blood. His need for her overwhelmed his senses, and even though some part of him knew it was a bad idea, he preferred to see the logic in her suggestion.
He’d held back in the past, but once he’d known the taste of her, he couldn’t stay in touch, because he’d always be drawn back to her.
Like now, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but he slammed a mental door on it.
They wanted each other. They were alone together. And right now, she was pressing those stunning tits right into his body.
Let’s fuck.
Well, okay then.
Curling his hand around the back of her head, he slid his fingers into the warm mass of hair clipped up in a messy bun. She leaned into his touch and he moved closer, backing her against the wall, where a framed photo showed seven-year-old Michelle dressed in white, holding a tiny children’s bible and a pink rosary. She looked angelic, with her head bowed and her eyes downcast—except for the slight smirk twisting her mouth.
Gabe grimaced. “I’m going to hell. Why is this picture still here?”
“My mother believes it’s my greatest achievement. And no, you probably shouldn’t sex me against the wall under my First Communion glamour shot.”
Gabe looked into her eyes while his hands roamed down her curves to cup her sweet ass. “Is that what I’m doing, Mich? Sexing you?”
She sucked in a breath and he was gratified by the way her lashes fluttered when he squeezed. “I will be severely disappointed if you don’t.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the living room. “Sofa?”
Michelle gave a firm shake of her head. “My mother will kill us if we have sex on her new couch.”
“Upstairs, then.”
He grabbed her hand to pull her up the stairs, but she tugged him back and sent him a withering glare.
“Bring the fucking suitcase,” she hissed. “You’re not going anywhere.”
He gave her a long look, then grabbed the suitcase and stepped back, extending a hand toward the staircase. “Lead the way.”
That sexy glare shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. He was still angry with her, still didn’t want to stay here, but he’d never stopped wanting her. The thought of getting her naked and finally learning his way around that hot little body of hers was convincing him that maybe he could stay here for just a little longer.
The one who got
away, Fabian had called her. And even though they’d never technically dated or had sex, Gabe couldn’t deny that it felt that way with Michelle. She was the one person who’d haunted his thoughts all these years, who made him wish things had been different so they could be together.
Michelle ascended the stairs like a queen. Gabe followed with his eyes glued to her shapely butt—barely covered by her pajama shorts—as it swayed side to side, entrancing him. He gripped the wooden bannister so tight, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it splintered under his hand. His heart felt like it was going to burst from needing her, and his cock was rock hard, tenting the front of his sweats.
Holy shit.
They were really doing this.
Really about to have sex.
He was really about to have sex with Michelle.
At the top of the stairs, she grabbed his hand and they moved down the hallway, but when he would have turned to her old bedroom, she pulled him toward the room he’d slept in the night before. Gabe balked, rearing back like a horse spotting a snake.
“I can’t have sex with you in your brother’s bed,” he whispered.
“We’re definitely not doing it in my mom’s craft room,” Michelle shot back. “She’ll know. And why are you whispering?”
He didn’t know why he was whispering. Something about being in this house full of old memories made him feel like a kid again.
“Come on.” She pulled on his hand. “It’s not my brother’s room anymore and besides, the bed in there is bigger, and you, my friend, are a very big boy.”
And then she shot a look at his crotch and smirked.
For years, Gabe had imagined this moment. Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed it would go quite like this. Shit, it wasn’t even seven in the morning.
Gabe took a deep breath and let Michelle draw him into the room, which thankfully no longer looked like it had when her brother, Junior, lived here. The posters of cars and Janet Jackson had been replaced by watercolor paintings of Old San Juan and Rome. And the window overlooked the backyard, which meant he didn’t have to worry about his parents being able to see inside.
