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“We’ll be there soon,” I murmur, and she gives a small nod. It’s hard for me to fully see her expression, but from the way she’s gripping my hand, I can tell she’s afraid.
Edgar skids onto the tarmac, throwing the car into park. Through the rain, I can see the gleaming hull of the waiting jet, and another black car waiting nearby.
“We need to go,” Edgar says, jumping out of the car. “Hard to say if they’re following us, or if so, how far behind they might be. Go!”
He yanks open Bella’s door, and she slides out, letting out a small gasp as her bare feet hit the wet tarmac. I move without thinking, sweeping her up into my arms and cradling her against my chest as I see the doors of the other car opening, Agnes and Aldo ushering Cecelia and Danny out.
“Help them with the bags!” I call out to Joe, striding towards the jet with Bella shivering in my arms, both of us soaked from the rain already. “Hurry!”
Bella is breathing in small, short gasps, her hand curled in the front of my shirt, holding onto me like she needs me here with her, like I’m keeping her anchored. And at this moment, I don’t ever want to let go of her. Not once we’re on the jet, not once we’re in Italy, and not ever again.
I don’t have time to fully unpack that feeling right now—all of the repercussions, all the reasons why I’ve denied myself that desire in the past when it comes to her. I hurry up the steps of the jet, the others’ footsteps behind me, and step out of the aisle into the first row of seats as they file onto the jet.
“Bella!” Cecelia cries out her name, and I feel Bella lift her head from my shoulder.
“Hey,” she says softly, her voice cracking a little.
Agnes takes one look at me holding Bella, and urges Cecelia and Danny ahead. “You can talk to Bella once she’s had some rest,” she says firmly. “Gabriel, I’ll get them settled in the other bedroom. You get Bella comfortable.”
“You and Aldo—” I start to say, and Agnes shakes her head.
“We’ll be just fine in the seats.”
“You—”
“Not a word,” Agnes says firmly, still ushering the children along. “These fancy plush seats are as good as any bed. Don’t argue with me,” she throws over her shoulder.
“Come on,” I murmur, letting out a sigh as I hold Bella closer to my chest. “I’ll get you settled in the other room.”
Her hair is wet, sticking to the side of my neck, and the feeling of it does something strange to me, along with the sensation of her fingers wrapped in my shirt. I’ve always touched Bella carefully, always given her plenty of room to pull away, to say no, to stop me if she wants me to stop. I’ve never just grabbed her and kissed her outright, no matter how many times I’ve wanted to do it, how many times the fantasy has occurred to me.
But as I step into the other bedroom at the back of the private jet, kicking the door shut behind us, that small possessive corner of my mind rears up, spurred on by the feeling of her hand clutching me and her body curled against mine, her damp hair trailing over my shirt and my skin. I set her down gently, her hand still pressed against my chest, and a wild feeling sweeps over me, something so uncontrollable that for the first time, I don’t stop myself from touching her until I’m absolutely sure.
The wall is an inch away. I move towards her, closing the small distance between us in a single step, and Bella lets out a noise that’s half-whimper, half-gasp, her lips parting as she looks up at me. The sound shoots straight to my cock, thrumming in my blood, and I back her against the wall, one hand on her hip as the other cups her cheek, damp and cool skin against the wet, flushed heat of her face.
And then I crush my mouth to hers, every inch of my body molding against her.
5
BELLA
For a moment, when Gabriel’s mouth touches mine, all of my fear about the consequences of his rescue flees. I can’t breathe. I can’t think about anything other than how good it feels, how right, his hands sliding over me as if he needs to prove to himself that I’m real, that I’m safe, that I’m here. Neither of us has ever said a word aloud about what we might feel for each other. Of all the lines that we’ve crossed, we’ve kept that one carefully drawn in the sand. But now?—
I wondered, after Igor took me, after being manhandled by guards and Dr. Maglin, if I would regress all the way back to the way things were before Gabriel and I started to work through my issues with touch. If I would once again feel like I was about to panic from something as simple as him reaching for my hand.
But I’ve found out in a matter of moments that Gabriel is the one man on earth now who can touch me with impunity. There’s no fear in me for that brief space of time, just a desperate desire to lose myself in him, to let everything bad, everything that I’m afraid of wash away on a tide of sensation. His mouth, firm and hot and hungry against mine, his hands curving over my breasts, the way my entire body feels lit up from within, pleasure like nothing I’d ever imagined I could feel washing over me.
We promised that we weren’t going to do this again. We should stop. I know we should stop. Especially after what happened, knowing that I’m the cause of him being caught up in so much danger, I should remind him of our deal. That after that one night, we would never do this again.
But I’m weak. I want him too badly. I want him to erase all the hands that have touched me between that night and now, to replace them with new memories. With the heat, the hunger that I can feel radiating off of him, begging for more, the same way my body arches up into his as he presses me back against the wall of the bedroom, his tongue sliding into my mouth as I feel his hard cock pressing into my thigh.
For a moment, I think he’ll keep going. His hand slides down my waist, as if re-memorizing my curves, squeezes my hip as he leans into me and groans. I feel him throbbing against my thigh, and I grind my hips into him as his fingers slip between us, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I don’t want him to stop. Because while we’re doing this, I’m not thinking about anything other than how it feels. I’m not thinking about the fact that Igor will rain hell down on all of us now, or the fact that Gabriel should never, never have come after me. The whole world narrows down to this, to his tongue sliding over my lower lip and his mouth slanting over mine, the heavy, muscled press of his body against me, flooding me with heat and sensation and driving everything else away.
I want him right here, up against the wall. Just like that morning in the gym, but this time, I want to go all the way. I want?—
Gabriel breaks the kiss, stepping back, putting space between us as he tries to draw a breath. His chest is heaving, his face flushed, and his eyes are dark with need as he looks at me, his gaze raking over me from my forehead to my toes and back up again as if he wants to devour me whole.
“I’m sorry,” he manages, and I stare at him for a moment, uncomprehending.
