Touch me Not

3. sweet and tender

"Come in." He stepped aside to allow me entrance. I passed by, and as I did, he let his hand drift along my side, sending shivers up my spine. Letting out a small gasp, I stopped and closed my eyes. The sensation of receiving his touch, a touch I had craved for so long, ground my entire world to a halt.

He came up behind me, his chest against my back, moist air from his lips traveling down my neck. I could feel his heart beating through our clothes, and for a moment, I imagined our beats were aligned.

"I'm glad you're here," he whispered into my ear.

"Me too."

He nibbled on my ear lobe and trailed gentle kisses along my jaw. My lips parted with a sigh as I pressed closer, feeling his arousal against my hip. It was a heady sensation. I still couldn't believe this was happening.

Not listening to the rational part of my brain—that told me to wait, to talk first—I spun around in his embrace, tilting my head to reach his lips with mine. My thoughts quieted as he nipped at my skin with his teeth. The slight, almost teasing pain startled me alive, and I had enough lucidity to register that the room was clean and that he tasted of toothpaste. Embarrassment tugged at my core—I hadn't taken the time to prepare like he had. My mind swirled with that thought. He had made an effort. The apartment was clean, he was shaved, showered and tasted nice. For me.

The kiss softened. It was nothing like the one we had shared in rushed desperation. This was different. He was careful—patient. He waited for me to respond, and I did. Filled with confidence that I was doing the right thing—that we were doing the right thing—I pressed my lips firmer against his, letting my fingers tangle in his damp hair to pull him closer. When he replied in turn, I was unable to contain the need that had simmered within me for years. The rough, unsettling session we had shared yesterday hadn't sated that need because it was a need for intimacy, not just sex.

It felt as if I ripped my chest open for him to step inside, and it felt as if he did. He was there with me, restoring me with his affection.

It felt as if he loved me.

Tender lips and heated breaths, roaming hands and sweet words whispered into my ear. He dispelled every fear, every apprehension.

* * * *

We awoke early when darkness still lingered outside our tiny world. Gabriel stirred, his muscles growing tense. I reached out with my hand to keep him with me, running my touch against his warm skin. I didn't know why it felt like I should, or even that I could, but he grew still. His breathing stayed calm, and I kept stroking his chest with my fingertips.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice less laden with sleep than I had expected.

"I don't know. Haven't checked."

He grabbed my hand and put it aside, sitting up in the bed to reach his phone. "It's only seven."

"Do you want to sleep more, or should I get us some breakfast?" I wanted to treat him to something, still bothered that he'd been alone on Christmas Day. He deserved to be spoiled with attention.

"I need a shower," he said instead, rising from the bed without a glance in my direction. A pang of insecurity struck me silent. I tried my tongue, but it didn't work.

While he padded across the floor, my eyes followed his back, watching his defined muscles flex as he moved. My tongue unwound in response. "Do you want company?"

He stilled for a second and turned his head slowly, just enough to talk, not enough to look me in the eye. "Breakfast doesn't sound so bad, though."