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“We’ll find out together,” he promises, and then he’s kissing me again, rolling me on top of him, but he doesn’t let me sit up. He folds me close, his hand coming down on my backside, squeezing my cheek as his hips lift with a thrust of his cock. I moan and this time when he smacks my backside and thrusts into me, he is so hard, so thick, and so very deep. The sensations that roll through me are all-consuming. I can’t think all over again. I can’t feel inhibitions. I can’t do anything but press into his thrusts, my mouth on his mouth, kissing him with desperation again, the wildness between us like nothing I have ever known. I’m on the edge of that blissful, perfect place where there is nothing but pleasure. I just want to be there, I need to be there. And then I am. I’m shattering, and moaning in this deep, from the soul way I don’t even know as my own self, and he’s cupping my head, shuddering right along with me.
I’m lost in pleasure and sensations that are eternal and yet so very short. I don’t want it to end, but it’s inevitable. It’s over and I slide back into reality. I collapse on top of Gabe and the thing that feels so new and right with this man is that I don’t even feel the need to move. I lay there naked, exposed, vulnerable on top of him, and I never want to leave. He doesn’t want me to, either. He holds me tight. He holds me the way I’ve always wanted to beheld. Like he doesn’t want to let me go. Like he fears that I really will break his heart.
I won’t.
Why in the world would I leave a man this perfect?
A tiny voice tries to remind me of how bad I am for him, but I squash it. I don’t want to leave this man. I’m not going to leave him.
Chapter thirty-nine
Abbie
Abbie
My afterglow from sex is short-lived. I sit up and stare down at Gabe. “We didn’t use a condom. I’m on the pill, but I didn’t pack my prescription. I can’t miss that pill. Not when we just had sex.”
He flips me to my back and stares down at me. “We’ll go to the pharmacy here in the morning.”
“Yes, but I think I missed yesterday’s pill, too, Gabe.”
“You aren’t going to get pregnant because you missed one pill.”
“And you know this how?”
“I have a friend who fucked a gynecologist for a while.”
“Why are you not freaking out about this?”
“I don’t freak out about much. We were in the moment. We forgot.”
“We forgot?” My hands flatten on his chest. “Gabe—”
He kisses me. “You aren’t going to get pregnant.”
He lays down and pulls my back to his front. “You can’t be sure.”
He lays there a few seconds, something heavy in the air before he says, “I got fixed years ago.”
That hits me like a ton of bricks. He got fixed? I rotate in his arms to face him. “You—years ago?”
“Yes. I did.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want kids. If you want kids—”
“Gabe—”
“It is what it is, Abbie. I got fixed. There are good odds that it can be undone if I choose to get it undone. Right now, I don’t.” He turns me around again and pulls me to him, his big body hugging mine. I could be offended. I could feel shut down, but then he whispers, “I just need you, Abbie.”
He just needs me.
That confession, low and raspy, undoes me the way Gabe undoes me. There’s a story behind his extreme defiance of parenthood. One he clearly doesn’t want to talk about. I don’t push him. I’m self-aware enough to understand that we do things to protect ourselves and Gabe is a man who protects himself to extremes. He understands the way I need to protect myself and he’s tried to help me escape. God, how I want to help him escape, too.
He’s letting me inside his world, he’s giving me that chance. I want to be here despite all the reasons I should walk away. I won’t ever hurt Gabe, but the world I live in might. That worries me. I can’t ask this man to let down walls, to support me and protect me, only to have a piece of me cut him. Maybe even bleed him dry. He nuzzles my neck and he smells good, all woodsy and wonderful and for right now, for this night, I just want to be with him.
My lashes lower and I don’t let myself think of anything but how good he feels.
