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Whether it’s my pregnancy or I’m just horny, I can’t seem to get enough of Gabriel. Not just in the bedroom, either. Over the past three weeks we have spent more and more time together, either gaming, watching TV shows, or chatting.
I straighten my skirt as he zips up his trousers, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling my back against his chest. We barely made it in the door before he had me bent over the back of the sofa and was sinking into me, my body a hot mess from his dirty talk all the way home in the car.
“Hum,” he says, dropping a kiss on my neck. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”
I snake my arm up and around his head, holding him in place. “Me too.” I don’t remember ever feeling as wanton as I do with Gabriel.
But Gabriel and I have an agreement. This is just us letting off steam, enjoying each other for the moment. When the lust fades, we will return to the status quo we agreed on, and raise the child we’ve created in a stress free and loving environment. Our child will want for nothing.
It would be very easy to fall in love with Gabriel Frazer and that’s not a good thing. My job, my happiness, and that of our child will rely heavily on the relationship we build going forward.
He steps back after one final kiss before making his way over to the kitchen. “Are you ready for the weekend?”
“I am,” I say, following behind him. “I saw Chloe. My outfits are sorted. The fundraiser has been finalised. We have some amazing items to auction off.”
Gabriel turns and drops a kiss on my nose, his arms encircling my waist.
“Mum is singing your praises. You’ve made quite an impression. Beware, I think she has high hopes in roping you in on future events.”
I stare at him, unsure he’s thought this through. When the baby arrives, we’ll return to our separate lives. I’m not sure Francesca will want me then.
Oblivious, he adds, “Together we can survive what is known as my family.”
“They can’t be that bad,” I reply, only to have him roll his eyes. I pat his chest and let my fears dissipate. I need to learn to live for the moment.
“You have no idea,” he says. And I begin to wonder what I’ve let myself in for.
We turn off the road, passing through two ornate brick pillars supporting equally large metal gates.
“Welcome to Frazer Manor,” Gabriel says, as I take in our surroundings. There’s no house in sight, just a vast green, open space, and trees that line the road we’re travelling on.
“This used to be part of the working farmland. Now it’s purely decorative,” he explains.
“Is it still a working farm?” I ask, taking in the beautiful surroundings, an air of tranquillity washing over me the further in we drive. This is the opposite of the city. I didn’t realise how in need of a green fix I was.
“It is, although the family doesn’t run it. We rent out the land and it’s managed by some of the local farmers,” he says, as we meet a high stone wall with brick buildings behind it.
He turns right and pauses, waiting for another set of gates to open. This time solid wooden ones.
The gates open, framing another tree-lined driveway, although this one is shorter. At the end of the driveway, I can see a fountain set in front of shallow, wide stone steps that lead up to an enormous house.
He drives forward. A far cry from the council house and estate on which I was raised. Not that I’m embarrassed. Our home was always welcoming and well-maintained. Both of my parents worked hard for what we had. It’s where I developed my work ethic.
The stone building is imposing. The steps lead up to a double height and width wooden doorway, surrounded by clematis. Two stone urns sit either side of the door, their contents offering a vibrant splash of multi-colour against the grey. Enormous sash windows, pepper the walls and must offer spectacular views of the grounds.
I try to keep my mouth from dropping open.
Gabriel turns to me and grins. “Welcome to my childhood home,” he says.
“Wow, oh wow,” I stutter. “Not what I was expecting.”
He jumps out, coming around to my side of the car. I take his hand, still having issues unfolding myself from the car seat, and I know it’s only going to get worse when my stomach grows. I wonder if Gabriel realises his car will not cut it with a child and baby seat.
“We had a lot of fun here as children,” he says. “It’s not as stuffy as it looks from the outside.”
I watch a weight lift from his shoulders.
“So many places to hide. Your mother must have had a nervous breakdown trying to keep tabs on you all.”
