Haze

by Deborah Bladon

  I rake both hands through my hair. "I went to the club that night because I wanted to fuck you, Isla. You had been in my office the day before. I'd been up all night aching, wanting. I had to get you out of my mind, so I went there."

  Her head shifts slightly, but her eyes don't move from her lap.

  "Sage had someone she thought I'd like but I felt nothing when I looked at her. Then I saw you. I didn't know it was you. All I knew was that it was a woman with the most beautiful body I'd ever seen. She moved unlike any woman I'd ever known. The attraction was immediate and intense. It was exactly what I felt when I walked into the boutique and saw you the day before. Everything around me disappeared at the club that night and then you turned and I saw your face."

  "You told them to throw me out?"

  "Yes and then I watched them do it," I confess. "I saw what happened. I saw how humiliated you were. I wanted to go to you, hold you. I wanted to take you home."

  "That's why you kissed me before my birthday in this car." Her hand slaps the seat of the car. "It's because you knew I liked those things. You knew I wanted to be handcuffed."

  Jesus, please. Please don't let this steal her from me.

  I move to her then, because I can't stand the pain she's in. I wrap my arm around her. She doesn't resist. "I kissed you because I wanted to. I kissed you because I have never wanted to kiss a woman more."

  She turns then, her eyes a stormy shade of blue that pierce into me. "No. You kissed me because you knew I liked to be handcuffed. You saw them on the club floor, didn't you?"

  I reach for her chin, cupping it in my palm. I tilt her head back. "If I never cuff you to another bed, or draw a crop across your skin again, it won't change how I feel about you. That is not what this is. I love you, Isla. I love you."

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  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Isla

  I rest my head on his shoulder. I'm not mad that he was at the club that night. I was there too, for the exact reason he was. I wanted to fuck someone. I wanted to forget things. We ended up in the same place, under very different circumstances, but it brought us together.

  "Would you have told me, Gabriel?" I look up at his face. "Do you think that you would have ever told me?"

  "I would have tonight." He traces his finger over my forehead. "I hated that restaurant. It was too close to the club. I knew there was a chance someone would walk in. I also knew the chances were slim that they'd say something but the secret was suffocating me. I intended to tell you."

  "Did you see me talking to the dentist?" I drop my gaze back to my lap. "I was talking to a dentist that night."

  "You were talking to an asshole," he corrects me. "When I saw you turn and I knew it was you, I almost tore you away from him myself."

  His arms tighten around me. "What would have happened to me that night if you weren't there?"

  He rests his head against mine, his lips pressing on my forehead. "I think about that sometimes but the thoughts that it provokes terrify me. I'd go to the ends of the earth to protect you."

  I know that he would. I saw it tonight, in the way he looked at me. I heard it when he told me he loved me.

  "I need you to know that when you left the club that night, I did as well." His voice is deep and gruff. "I went home. I thought about you the entire night."

  My heart stutters for a beat. "Have you been back there since?"

  I know the answer isn't my business. I shouldn't care if he went back the next night or any night after that. I should only care that he wants to be with me now, yet, I can't help it.

  "I don't have any intention of ever going back to the club or that hotel room."

  That's an extra assurance I never would have expected. "I'm scared to be too hopeful. I don't want to feel things and then have it taken away."

  He tugs me into his lap, just as he did the first night he kissed me here. He cradles my face in his palms, his dark eyes pulling me in. "If this ends, I will break into two pieces. I will fight for this. I will do whatever I need to in order to help you understand that I cherish you, Isla. You tell me what you need, and I will do that for you."

  I run my finger along his brows, first the left and then the right. His face is so strong, so masculine. It's beautiful, if a man can be that. "How is it possible that you love me?"

  His body shudders as he swallows. "It's impossible for me not to."

  "Gabriel." I lean forward to rest my lips over his. "Don't ever stop."

  ***

  "I should have been the one spanking you," I say breathlessly into his chest. "I didn't deserve that."

  "You did." His voice is deep, husky and still filled with want. "Tonight it was a reward. I saw how wet it made you, Isla. Don't try and argue that point with me or I'll take you back over my knee."

  He never technically had me over his knee in the first place.

  After we got back to his penthouse, we'd sat in a chair in the living room, kissing and talking for hours. I'd asked more questions about the club and he'd answered each honestly. He helped me understand his drive to go there and the hole it had been filling within him.

  I never belonged there. The scope of my experience didn't measure anywhere near his, but that night, when he saw me trying desperately to find a man to help tame my desires, he'd felt an unexplainable pull towards me.

  He told me that he tried to fight it for weeks after that, but then on my birthday, when he tasted me for the first time, he lost all sight and memory of anyone else.

  I believe him. I trust him. I know it's true because it's what I feel too.

  He carried me to his bed after that, undressing me then. He'd licked me, and touched me, and when I tried to control his fingers on my flesh, he'd slapped my ass, over and over, all while he said my name woven into declaration of his love.

  I reach down, stroking my hand over his cock. It's so long, thick. It's as beautiful and striking as he is.

  "Fuck me, Gabriel," I whisper as I slide my body over his. "I want you to fuck me."

  "Jesus, Isla," he hisses, his eyes closing with the words. His hands roam down my back, to my ass.

  I move slightly, skimming my breasts over his chest before I kiss him, deeply, passionately.

  "There are condoms in the nightstand." His arm circles my waist as he moves to the left.

  I fight him, pulling him back, quieting him. "Please, just don't move."

  His breathing slows as I inch back to glide my pussy over the entire length of his erection before I reach down to grab the thick root of his cock in my hand.

  "Like this." I curve my body back. "Just like this. Just us."

  He moans loudly as the first inch of his cock enters me, skin-on-skin, no barriers.

  "You're sure." He halts my movements with both of his hands on my hips. "Isla, tell me. Tell me you're sure."

  "I love you," I whisper the words into his trembling lips as I lean back, push down, and take every inch of him inside of me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Six Months Later

  Gabriel

  "I've never been more proud of you than I am right now, Isla."

  She turns on her heel and pulls on my tie, tugging my head down to meet hers before she crushes her beautiful mouth into mine. The kiss is fevered, lush and deep. "It's been so long since you've fucked me. Will you fuck me now?"

  "We're in the middle of Central Park." I gesture around us as I glide my hands along her back, over the thin fabric of her dress. "I fucked you last night. What's gotten into you?"

  "You." She taps her hand over my chest, smoothing the tie back into place. "Tonight, after work, will you fuck me in the swing?"

  The swing had been a gift. I wanted it there, in the extra bedroom waiting for us the da
y she moved in two months ago. I'd fucked her in it, as she moved back and forth, giving herself wholly to me, as she does each and every time we're together intimately. She's as demanding as me. She loves my body, craves it, and each and every time she touches me with the unmistakable nuance of desire, I give in.

  We've experimented more. She's been responsive at times, less at others, and through it all we've found exactly what works for us. Implements complement our intimacy, but they never define it.

  "Tonight, after work, I'm going to ask you to marry me, Isla."

  Her eyes tear, uncontrollably. Her mouth forms a small 'o.' She doesn't make a sound, She doesn't move at the approaching chime of a bicycle bell or the loud screams of children as they come racing down the paved path towards us. Time stops.

  Six hours from now or this minute won't change the course of the rest of our lives. We're not typical, we're far from ordinary. Our love story is unique as the woman standing in front of me.

  The same woman who was accepted into Julliard two hours ago because of her immense and undeniable talent. She'll begin her studies in the fall, just as the spring lines at our boutiques are launched.

  One day, when we've been married for a time, I'll go to the concert hall with my mother and I'll hear my wife play with the Philharmonic. I know it will happen. I'll have seasons' tickets and I'll enjoy each performance more than the last. I will fulfill each of her dreams and if I can't, I will stand next to her as she does it herself.

  I scoop the small jewelry box into my hand as I pull it from the pocket of my jacket. I slide down to one knee.

  "Marry me, beautiful, Isla. Let me love you every day for the rest of my life."

  She's on her knees in an instant, her blonde hair blowing in the wind, her blue eyes still lost beneath a veil of tears. "Yes, yes."

  I slide the pear shaped diamond onto her finger, kissing it after it's settled. "You have changed every part of my life. I wasn't alive until I met you."

  "Me too." She nods, her eyes glued to the ring. "You changed everything, Gabriel. You gave me my life back. You took me out of the haze."

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  EPILOGUE

  One Year Later

  Gabriel

  "We need to hurry if we're going to make it to Zeek's birthday party on time." She stretches out on the bed. "You bought him a gift, didn't you, Gabriel?"

  "Three gifts. I couldn't choose one. Why am I the only one getting dressed?" I pull a black sweater over my head before I finish zipping my jeans. "You're not going to the party nude, are you, Mrs. Foster?"

  She looks at me under heavy lidded eyes. She'd been napping before I walked into the bedroom and woke her with a kiss. I wanted more. I always want more but I'd made love to her this morning when I first woke. It was slow, tender and perfect.

  "I have a dress picked out." She points to the closet. "It's the blue one from Arilia that you gave me for my birthday."

  It's the dress I'd seen her wearing in the photograph on her phone shortly after we'd met. I had gone to the boutique the next day and had taken it, guessing her size. I'd kept it here, in our apartment for months until I gave it to her on her twenty-second birthday. She was touched. She's worn it often since, even now that it's not fitting as it once did.

  "Are you going to tell your mother today?" She slides her legs to the side of the bed. "I think we should wait. Today is for Caleb and Rowan. Their little boy is having his first birthday."

  "We'll wait," I agree as I kneel on the floor in front of her. "We can tell her in a few days, or next week."

  "Tomorrow," she counters with a kiss to my forehead. "Can we tell her tomorrow?"

  "She's going to be as excited as the day you were accepted to Julliard and the day of our wedding."

  That day had been the best of my life. It was a simple wedding, at Isla's request, here in our penthouse. It was my family, some of my friends, and her friends, Cassia and Nigel. She'd worn a dress my mother helped design and as she said her vows to me, I cried. The words were so tender and giving.

  "She'll be happy about it, yes?" Her finger traces over my left eyebrow. "I want her to be as happy as we are."

  I place both my hands on the bed, next to her naked thighs. I lean forward resting my lips over her small, swollen belly. "My mother will love that we are naming our daughter, Ella Gianna Foster."

  She lowers her hands to my hair, stroking it gently as I kiss her stomach. "We will have her in only four months. I'll be a mom in four months."

  "I'll be a dad," I whisper into her skin. "I'll have everything any man can ever want and I'll never, ever let it go."

  THANK YOU

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  Preview of TORN

  The Standalone

  Featuring Asher Foster

  "Are they low enough?"

  "Pull them up." I wave my arm in the air towards one of the three female assistants he walked in with. "I need them higher."

  He pushes their eager hands away as he adjusts the waistband of his button-fly jeans. I'd told him to strip down to just his pants as soon as he stepped foot into my studio. He had done that effortlessly. His hands tugging the white sweater he was wearing over his head to reveal a toned chest and stomach covered by the expected tattoos.

  I'd walked closer to ask him to remove the bracelets and necklaces he had on. His eyes had been glued to mine the entire time.

  I admit he's much more attractive than most of the men who traipse through here. His hair may be a tousled mess of brown but his eyes more than make up for that. They're framed by long lashes, the irises a shade of chestnut I haven't seen before.

  It's no surprise that he warrants the attention he does in the media.

  Asher Foster has the number one song in the country right now. On top of that, he wrote it. I listened to it on my phone before he arrived. It's moody, soulful and surprisingly brilliant.

  I look through the lens of my camera. "I need that light moved to the left."

  My assistant, Remy, darts into action. She pulls it over just a touch. I'd be lost without her, especially right now, given that the small space is filled with at least ten people, all part of the entourage that arrived with the Asher.

  I take another glance. It's almost perfect save for the fact that when I asked him to show me some skin, he took it to a level that's bordering on obscene.

  I step around the tripod and walk back towards where he's standing in front of a pale, grey canvas hung from the ceiling.

  I point towards his jeans. "You can button those back up."

  He looks down. "I thought you wanted me almost naked."

  He's taller than I am, but only by an inch or two. It helps that I'm wearing boots with heels today. I wouldn't have chosen this short of a skirt if I'd have known that he'd be here. I try my best to always look professional but when it's over 100 degrees outside, you have to make concessions. I'm tha
nkful I at least took the time this morning to wash and sweep my curly brown hair up so it looks controllable.

  I've already established myself as the go-to photographer for celebrities in New York City. Granted, it only constitutes part of my business, but it's the most lucrative part. I'm making enough off this shoot today to pay my rent for both the studio and my apartment for the next two months.

  "It was my understanding that the photograph needed to be tasteful."

  "You don't think this is tasteful." There's a low growl to his voice. "Tell me what's not tasteful about it."

  The room may be milling with people, but his focus is entirely on me. I've felt that since he walked in. I imagine he's used to women taking him up on everything he offers to them. There's no denying it's tempting. I only need to look down at the top of his cock visible through the opening of his jeans to know that the man is very comfortable with his body.

  "I'd prefer if you buttoned your jeans up."

  "Why?" His eyes darken. "Tell me what you don't like about the way I look."

  There's no way in hell this man needs his ego stroked. If that's what fuels his fire he need only turn around to where every single woman in the room, including Remy, is standing with their lips at the ready.

  I've always been mildly curious about why so many women are drawn towards musicians. I don't have to wonder anymore. His confidence is undeniable but it hasn’t crossed the line to cocky yet. He's just the right balance of rawness mixed with blatant aggression.

  "I think I look good." He playfully nods towards his groin. "You think I look good too, don't you, Falon?"

  I look around the room before I rest my hand against his shoulder and lean in just a touch. "As impressive as your dick is, I don't want it in my pictures."