RILEY
I'm so stunned that I drop the bacon. It glances off the side of the coffee table and onto the floor, but I don't move to pick it up. It would be almost comical if I wasn't so shocked. I think my heart is skipping a beat or three.
"Excuse me. What did you just say?"
Gabriel shakes his head and rests his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands. "I was going to wait to tell you. Figured it would be too intense. I'm sorry."
I sit back, against the sofa cushion, and take a few deep breaths. "You do? You love me?"
He straightens his spine and twists to look at me. "Of course. Riley, the way I feel about you scares me sometimes. I've never felt this intensely for someone. I've told you that. I've told you everything except these three words, and it's time you hear them."
We gape at each other for a beat. Everything else falls away. My dismal apartment, the bacon on the floor, the fact that he is an actual criminal. Right now this is a man and a woman sitting on a sofa on a foggy Sunday morning, trying to speak aloud the secrets that normally live inside the heart.
"I feel the same." The words come out as barely a whisper.
He shuts his eyes and his body relaxes, as if I've pardoned him on death row.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Catherine. I'm sorry that I make money in unusual and not entirely legal ways. I'm sorry that I am a flawed and imperfect man, but I will love you perfectly."
I don't let him finish. Instead, I crawl into his lap to straddle him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. All I want is to press my body into his, soak up his warmth and his love and his caring.
Because that's what I truly adore about him. Oh, sure, the sex is amazing and the fact that he's rich is a nice perk. I won't deny either of those facts.
But I genuinely love how Gabriel cares for me like I'm a precious object. He doesn't act like I'm dispensable or malleable — like my father does, like every other man I've ever met does. Gabriel accepts and loves me for who I am, even when I'm goofy or snarky or barfy.
That one quality overrides all the other bad things he brings to my table.
As if he knows this precise need of mine, he holds me tight, like he's defending me from some invisible attacker. We sit like this for minutes, me breathing the scent of his skin into my nose.
"I wasn't looking for a relationship," he says in a gravelly voice.
"I wasn't either."
"I want to reassure you. Don't want you to doubt my feelings. I'm yours, and you're mine. I'll go through walls for you. Kill people. Anything you want, I'll do."
Wide-eyed and overwhelmed, I peel myself away from him and sit up, staring into his face. "What are we going to do?"
He smiles. "What do you mean?"
"Now that we feel like this? Now that we've put it out in the open. That you, ah," I falter.
"Now that I love you and you..."
"Love you. I love you." My eyes fill with tears. It's the first time I've ever said that to any man.
Gabriel sweeps a lock of my hair out of my face. "Now that we love each other, the world is ours."
I giggle, suddenly elated. "The world? Wow."
"I'm going to give you the world. Hell. The universe."
I lean in and press my mouth to his. "Can we start with something a little more modest?"
"I'm not a modest guy."
"I've noticed." I kiss from his mouth to his ear, and he sucks in a breath when I nibble on his lobe. "I was thinking about starting with the bed. Right now."
I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone move as fast as Gabriel does when I say that word.
He picks me up and stands in one fluid motion, making it to the bedroom in what feels like record-breaking time, with me laughing the entire way.
We're on the bed, laughing and kissing, until he's on top of me. My fingers comb through his dark hair, and we both still.
"You're not turned off by my awful apartment?"
He lifts his head and looks around, as if he's about to decide the answer, then kisses my mouth. "No. Not at all. The fridge and pantry need a little help, but I'll send my chef over to stock your shelves."
"You're not going to make me move in with you?"
He licks his lips. "Do you want to move in with me?"
My jaw drops. "I ... don't know."
And that's the God's honest truth.
"I'm sorry, I'm just being honest."
"I'm not upset at all. I want you to be honest. Always. And I want you to live in a nice place. But I won't make you leave here unless you ask. You want a downtown condo, I'll put you in one. You want to live with me, I'll send the moving truck. It's all up to you."
I slide my hands under his T-shirt. "I like that answer. Can we table this discussion when I'm not so distracted?"
"My body distracts you?"
He sits up and sheds his shirt.
"Uh, yeah, it does," I giggle. My hands skim from his six-pack abs to his pecs.
"I do expect you at my house quite often," he says. "And now that I've been here, I'll come whenever you want."
"Oh, I want you to come, all right."
"You have such a dirty mouth for such a sweet-looking little thing," he mutters. "Mouth of a whore, face of an angel."
I snicker and he unbuttons my pajama top, brushing the fabric to the sides of my body so he can touch my breasts.
"God, I love these," he whispers. He kisses my lips, my neck, and my collarbone, and then finally my breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking. I stretch my arms overhead, reveling in the heat building between my legs.
I shimmy my hips a little, a subtle code to him that I want him to touch me elsewhere. He kisses down my stomach, his hand playing with the waistband of my pajama bottoms.
He stops, pulling back to look at me with a. shouldering gaze. "Do you want this? After everything? Do you want me?"
It's as if he wants me to consent to not just sex, but to everything else. To who he is.
To love.
"Yes, a hundred percent," I whisper.
He slides my pants down my legs, and then I'm naked, lying on my cheap comforter with this gorgeous man who, of all things, loves me.
There could never be a more perfect time for sex than now. While he takes off his jeans, I spread my legs and tilt my hips, offering myself to him, letting him know that I'm ready for his cock.
And he does, but not in the way I expect. He spreads my thighs and presses his mouth to my most private place. I gasp and instinctively grab the comforter, clutching the fabric in my fists.
He's so talented with his tongue, almost too good at using it as a weapon of lust.
Every lick and swipe he makes is designed to bring me pleasure, and he approaches my pussy as if it's a mission to be conquered.
He sucks my clit and the pleasure blooms into my lower abdomen, intensifying and building until I'm pushing my hips into his face and begging for release.
"Gabriel," I whine.
He slows his lazy circles around my clit, but doesn't stop. He's no longer feasting on me, but he's not finished, either. His fingers slide into my cunt and he rubs my clit just so, and the orgasm rolls through me like a tidal wave. I twist and moan, my legs shaking from the force of the detonation.
Eventually, the shudders begin to subside. He kisses me once more between the legs and then crawls up my body, swiping the hair off my sweaty face.
"Such a good girl. You always come so hard for me when I lick you."
Another pulse rolls into my clit, and I groan. "I don't think I'm finished."
"No?" he murmurs, his hand sliding to the wetness between my legs. "Oh, fuck, I think you squirted a little. You're that wet. That's so hot. I'm lucky to have a beautiful little fuck toy like you."
He rubs at my clit and I'm there once again, writhing and whining and pleading. I love that he makes me orgasm before him, love that he takes care of me, love that he talks dirty and praises me and wants me to be his slut.
"I love you," I sob softly during the crescendo of my orgasm.
He smiles, wide and innocent, like I've given him a priceless gift. My orgasm subsides as he massages my breasts.
"What day is it?" he asks.
"Hell if I know." I laugh, my entire body relaxed from my orgasm.
"Isn't it the 27th? Didn't you go on the pill a month ago?"
I raise my eyebrows. "You're right. And since we both tested negative on our bloodwork..."
He leans in, whispering in my ear. "We can finally fuck without a condom."
"My God, what are you waiting for?"
He smiles, his lips hovering above mine. "Nothing. Let's go."
With that, he slides inside me, and I close my eyes, savoring the feeling of being completely filled by him.
Knowing that I'm safe, and we're unstoppable.
I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him in deeper as we move together. I guide him, urge him to go faster, harder, deeper.
To give me everything.
Our bodies smack together as he thrusts violently into me. There's a moment where his hand's around my throat and my nails are digging into his arms. Then he stops to kiss me passionately, and the sex turns emotional and tender, with whispered words of love.
He looks down, between us. I do, too, and shudder when he pulls his cock out slowly, taking it in his hand and rubbing it over my clit.
He sits up. "Spread your pussy open."
I do. The tip of his cock is glistening with a mix of precum and my juices, and he takes the tip and touches it to my clit. The sensation is electric, and dirty, and everything I love.
Many minutes later, I'm on top, screaming out his name, a third orgasm crashing into me. He follows soon after, his body shuddering with the force of his own pleasure. We collapse together in a heap, spent and satiated.
He wraps me tight in his arms.
"I love you," he murmurs into my hair.
"I love you too," I whisper back, nuzzling into his chest.
He rolls us onto our sides and arranges the comforter over us.
"You're sure you don't want to go back to your house where it's more comfortable?" I ask.
"No. This is perfect, right here, right now. Let's be lazy and stay in bed all day."
A little, satisfied smile tugs at his lips. Gabriel never stays in bed all day, and lazy isn't a word in his vocabulary.
"You don't have to ask me twice if I want to nap," I say, snuggling in.
"I'm so lucky that I found you," he whispers, eyes still closed.
I'm about to quip that he didn't find me, that he actually took me by force.
But those are just words, because now I believe he was meant to find me. Meant to take me. Meant to possess me.
"Me too, Gabriel," I murmur back, my eyes already heavy with sleep. "Me, too."