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It’s then that I realize that denying him anything is like holding me and us ransom and that’s not what I want. That’s not what I mean to do. “I want—”
“I want,” he echoes and his mouth closes down on mine, and this time, there is demand and lust in his kiss, in his touch. He owns me right there by the bar, without ever taking off my clothes. This man claims me with his tongue, with his hand running down my back. With the emotions inside him, overflowing into me, around me. This man consumes me.
I don’t even think about holding back when he yanks my skirt up to my waist. My sex clenches and my mouth is right there with his, colliding again, tasting the hunger on his lips as my own. He grips my panties and yanks, my yelp transforming to a moan as his fingers slide along the wet seam of my body, pressing inside me. “Gabe,” I pant, gripping his tie and pulling on the knot. He has on too many clothes.
He lifts me and sets me on the counter and in a frenzy of movement, he’s just naked enough to press his cock inside me, to drive into me, thick and hard. And he does. He drives deep, nestles into the farthest part of me, and whispers by my ear, “I need you with me, Abbie.”
Need.
That word undoes me. He undoes me. I want to say as much but he’s suddenly driving into me, sensations rocketing through me, my hips lifting into his hips; fingers gripping his shirt. I suck in a breath, intending to speak but words don’t come. His thrust does. His cock drives into me and my legs wrap his hips. Over and over, he pumps, thrusts, drives, and grinds into me. Over and over, he kisses me, touches me, pleases me to the point that Ican’t breathe. I can’t think. It’s intense. It’s fast. It’s insanity and the best insanity I have ever known.
I come fast, too fast, but he follows, both of us quaking with release. Both of us clinging to each other. We collapse with the ease of our orgasms, his face buried in my neck. My fingers tangled in his hair and I press my cheek to his, lips at his ear as I say, “And I need to be with you,” I confess.
He pulls back to look at me. “What does that mean?”
“It means I get it now. You need to know I trust you enough to take this risk. You need to know that before you trust me enough to confess what you believe to be your sins. So yes, Gabe. I’ll move in with you. I would be so very happy to move in with you.”
“You said—”
“That I was scared, and I am, but I get it now. You are, too. So let’s be scared together.”
He cups my face and stares down at me, searching my eyes, looking for truth and then saying, “Yes. Let’s be scared together.”
Chapter eighty-four
Gabe
Gabe
I’m not going to make my intended confession to Abbie. Not now. Not this night.
I don’t want the moment I asked her to move in with me to become about the past or even my father. For now, for this night, I want to revel in her calling my home her home. I want to revel in all the nights we will sit on the couch as we do now, waiting on a takeout order while ignoring the cold pizza my sister left behind. I know I need to talk to her about KM. I know I need to get it over with but Dexter starts chasing his tail, and the mood is light.
“What happened with Jean Claude?” Abbie dares, though I can tell she’s hesitant to break the mood.
“He was a dick. He made an offer as you said. Reid got it up but if it’s too high it looks like you had a reason to get rid of Kenneth.”
“I want to take it.”
“I knew you would.”
The doorbell rings with our delivery and we shut down talk of Jean Claude. Neither of us bring up anything but Dexter, food, and Game of Thrones. I let Jean Claude wait until morning. She lets murder wait until morning.
And so, we eat Chinese food while Dexter gives us doggy eyes that can’t be resisted. We give him chicken. He farts his appreciation and we end up on the balcony in the cold, hiding from a farting serial killer dog. It’s pretty fucking perfect. Except for my secrets. Except for interviews with the police and the uncertainty of the investigation. Those things hang in the air like a fine mist laced with poison.
When we finally head to bed and lay under the covers in the darkness, Abbie whispers, “I don’t want anyone to take us from us.”
I stroke her hair. “The only ones that can take us from us is one of us, and we aren’t going to be foolish enough to allow that to happen.”
“I like that answer,” she says, relaxing into my side, fingers flexing on my chest. She is tiny and yet she is a force of nature.
She doesn’t speak again and I lay there for a good hour after she falls asleep, listening to her breathe, playing all the ways my confessions might go in my head. The one thing I go back to is the delivery. I can’t change what happened with Kendall. I don’t want to change what happened with Kendall, but I can change how my father affects Abbie. I can make sure that she doesn’t feel any more distress by way of my father’s manipulation. I slip out of the bed and I whisper for Dexter to stay at the foot of the bed. He’s a damn good dog who seems to understand just about anything I tell him. His previous owner must have passed away and then some asshole relative dumped him. Nothing else makes sense. He was loved. I can tell he was loved, and then the anger issues came from losing that love. I relate. That dog is my animal soulmate.
It’s midnight when I stand at the window in the living room in pajama bottoms and dial Blake. “If it was a wig,” I say without preamble, “it came on and off at some point. What about cameras catching that moment?”
“We tried. We don’t have that wig or the coat that was being worn going in and out of the building. Nor does that person show up anywhere on a camera we can hack within a two-mile radius.”
“Are there cameras you can’t hack?”
