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It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. The respectful thing. What I would expect from him. He’s always been that kind of man to me—gentle and respectful and careful not to cross my boundaries. That afternoon in the library is the closest he’s ever come to completely losing control with me.
A small, daring part of me wants him to do it again.
The rest of me slides out of bed, trying not to think about how I can feel his eyes on me as I walk to the bathroom. My wedding dress is still in a puddle on the floor, and I feel my cheeks flush as I remember what I did in that spot last night. The feeling of Gabriel in my mouth, hard and thick and straining the edges of my lips. The sounds he made, because of me. The way I made him moan.
It was the first time I ever did that. I can’t have been that good at it, but he behaved as if it were incredible. As if I’d made him feel every bit as good as he made me.
The thought lingers as I turn on the hot water for the shower, no matter how hard I try to push it away. I almost don’t want to wash away the feeling of him on my skin, his hands sliding over me, his tongue?—
A shiver runs over me, and I tilt my head back, letting the hot water run through my hair. I need to focus. The wedding is behind us—I’m Gabriel’s wife now, and that means that anyone willing to offer him help against Igor will have a better reason to assist him in defending me. That was the important part. Our wedding night is behind us, too—the marriage is consummated, and there’s no argument that the marriage isn’t real in all the ways that matter to others.
As far as how it matters to me—that’s not the important part. It never has been. The only difference is that in the end, if I want to leave when the purpose of our marriage is finished, Gabriel will let me.
My chest tightens at the thought of leaving. But I tell myself not to think about that now. There’s too much between now and when all of this is resolved, too many dangers still to face to think too hard about what my future holds when Igor is no longer a threat.
For now, I should focus on today. A day that Gabriel told me would be all mine, to spend with Clara before she flies home tomorrow. And I plan on enjoying every second of it.
When I come out of the shower, wrapped up in a robe, Gabriel has pulled on a pair of sleep pants, in obvious deference to my desire that our marriage be chaste after this. If he thought that wearing a pair of loose, soft black pants and nothing else would make me less attracted to him, he was wrong.
It’s impossible to not want him, no matter what he’s wearing. The pants hang loosely on his hips, the deep v-cut of muscle on either side, deliciously visible, the dark line of hair that runs from his navel disappearing into the waistband. I know what’s underneath, and that makes him look that much more tempting.
And that’s not even taking into consideration his muscled chest, dusted with dark hair, his broad shoulders, his?—
I look away sharply when I see a small smile flicker at the corner of Gabriel’s mouth, one that he’s obviously trying to suppress. He knows I’m checking him out, and I feel my cheeks heat.
“I’m going down for breakfast,” I mumble, clutching my robe to my chest as I scramble out of the room, not looking back at Gabriel as I go.
I assume, if he wants us to share a bedroom, that all of my things are going to be moved into his room. But for now, all of my clothes are still in mine. I duck into the room, thankfully not running into anyone else, and dress quickly in a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt, tossing my hair up in a damp, messy bun atop my head. I can hear the shower turning on again down the hall in Gabriel’s bathroom, and with some effort, I force the image of him naked with water and soap dripping down him in thick rivulets out of my head.
How am I going to manage to share a bed with him like this?
That, too, I file away under the category of things to worry about later. I hurry downstairs, and when I walk into the dining room, I find Clara sitting at the table, scrolling through her phone, a buffet of breakfast food spread across it. Agnes and the children are nowhere to be seen.
“Good morning,” Clara says with a grin, looking up from her phone as she hears my footsteps. “Agnes said to tell you she was going to keep Cecelia and Danny out from underfoot, so you wouldn’t feel obligated to work today. We’ve got the whole day, just the two of us.” She grins, and I feel a flutter of excitement cut through all of my tumultuous emotions.
“Also,” she continues, looking at the table. “This breakfast spread is amazing. Honestly, I would eat like a horse if I lived here. Agnes is incredible.” She gestures to her plate, which has a waffle with butter and syrup and berries, scrambled eggs with goat cheese and salmon, and a few thick sausage links next to it. “I want to eat here forever.”
“She’s amazing,” I agree. The food all smells amazing, but I scoop a spoonful of scrambled eggs onto my plate and add a couple pieces of sausage and fruit. I’m not sure how much I can manage. My appetite is questionable on the best days, and right now, my stomach feels like it’s see-sawing back and forth after the night I had.
“Speaking of amazing—” Clara draws out the last word, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. “The food isn’t the only thing I’d stay here for. That guy I was dancing with last night—oh my god.” She fans herself with one hand. “I got maybe an hour of sleep last night. He said things to me in Italian that I can’t wait to try to remember and translate later. And his tongue—” Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “All of him, honestly.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Did you get his name? A number? An email so the two of you can keep in touch?”
“Fuck, no.” Clara laughs. “I’m going to go knock on his door tonight, as agreed, and he’s going to keep me up until it’s time for my flight to leave in the morning. And then I’m going to say ciao.” She wiggles her fingers playfully. “This is everything I could possibly want out of a no-strings hookup. I’m on cloud nine.”
“Better than what Tinder offers in New York?” I tease, and Clara shudders.
“I haven’t had a decent date in months. This is exactly what I needed. Tell Gabriel thank you?—”
“Tell me thank you for what?” Gabriel breezes into the room, his curling dark hair clinging damply around his face, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that clings to his muscles in a way that makes my mouth go dry. He grabs a piece of toast from a plate, slathers strawberry jam onto it, and crams a sausage link into the center of it like a breakfast hot dog, as I stare at him in utter confusion. I’ve never seen him do anything like that to Agnes’ breakfast foods, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s because she’s not here to catch him doing it.
“What?” He looks at me innocently. “I don’t want to interrupt you ladies’ morning chat. So I’m taking this to go.” His gaze lingers on my face, for just a moment, and as his eyes drop to my mouth, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt what he’s thinking.
I let myself imagine it, for just a second. Him giving me a quick kiss goodbye, before he goes out to whatever business he has on the estate for the day. A casual, easy, loving relationship between us. One where there are no complications and no rules, no boundaries—just us.
It’s a fantasy that I can’t let myself linger in for too long.
“Thank you for flying me out here for the wedding,” Clara says sincerely. “I’m so happy I was able to be here for Bella. And thank you for having such deliciously gorgeous men working on your estate,” she adds, a devilish grin appearing on her face. “I’m going to be taking full advantage of the amenities before I leave tomorrow.”
