Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I pause at my door, wondering who it might be. A delivery? Gabriel sent things to my place in the past, but since I’ve practically lived at his apartment full-time, he’s been giving them to me directly.
Then again, if he’s sending me an apology gift . . . and he’s just that sort of gruffly sweet man to do it, too. I pull back the cover on the peephole, praying it’s something from him. Like some high-class chocolates, or maybe—
I gasp. I’m a mess, my hair still in tangles from tonight’s fucking, and as I smooth my baggy sweater over my body, I can’t believe it.
“Open the door please, Kiersten,” he says, his voice quiet. “I can hear you on the other side.”
Swallowing my fear, I open the door. Tonight is the first time he’s ever actually been inside my building. I never thought he’d actually come inside my apartment. “Sir?”
He smiles, lifting an eyebrow. “Are you going to invite me in?” My heart batters in my chest as I stare at him. Expensive suit that clings perfectly to him. Tailored and polished . . . and then there’s me.
“Of course,” I reply quickly, stepping back and swallowing nervously. Wasn’t I just thinking that this might be my last contract?
Is he ending things early?
Nervous thoughts scream at me as he takes a step inside and then another. With each step, the old wooden floor groans. Embarrassment heats my cheeks as he glances around my place filled with hand me down mismatched furniture and keepsakes scattered across every surface. One could argue that my decor is eclectic yet comfortable. But right now, all I can think is that it looks nothing like a place he’d ever step foot in.
I close my door after he comes in. My building’s cold, and I can already feel a draft around my bare ankles as the door closes and I follow Gabriel into my suddenly too small, too dingy living room.
I have a thousand questions, but he’s trained me too well. I keep my mouth shut and my hands in front of me, waiting for him.
“After I dropped you off,” he starts, sounding a little less like himself than normal, “I realized that I owe you an apology.”
“An apology, Sir?”
Gabriel nods. “We haven’t explored it much, but there are couples who are . . . into pain. And one of the most important parts of such a relationship is what’s known as aftercare, where the partner giving out the pain cares for and nurtures the partner who’s been . . . pushed. Do you understand?”
I nod. “You do give me aftercare.”
“Tonight I didn’t,” Gabriel says, coming over. “Kiersten, I’m sorry. I should have come up with you and stayed. I should have washed your hair, soothed your aches and pains, and made sure you’re okay. I didn’t because I was . . . no, I am still so angry about what happened.”
My throat closes tightly, and with a sting at the back of my eyes, it takes me a moment to respond.
“You’re angry with me?”
Outrage flashes in his bright gray-green eyes. “No, hell no! I’m angry I didn’t do better for you.” As his words sink in, his tone softens and he explains, “I’m angry with myself that I didn’t protect you.”
“You protected me, Sir,” I tell him, speaking out loud without thinking. “Honestly, when I saw you in the hallway . . .” The moment I start, I wish I hadn’t.
The words vanish until Gabriel says, “Go on, tell me what you're thinking.”
The words rush out of me. “I thought you were here to break up with me and end this between us.”
Gabriel blinks as if stunned before reaching out and pulling me close. “No, never. Don’t you get it, Kiersten? I’m never, ever letting you go.”
Shock keeps me silent until he adds, “Unless . . . you want to leave?”
I shake my head, and Gabriel embraces me, his arms holding me close and warm and safe. I clutch his jacket, inhaling a masculine scent that’s uniquely him. Gabriel pulls back. He kisses me tenderly and then lifts me up into his arms and lays me down on the sofa.
“Sir . . . I’m a mess,” I whisper, but Gabriel shakes his head.
“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he promises me before kissing my lips again.
I nod, and he kisses down my neck, pushing my sweater up to free my breasts. They’re not sore at all, and as his lips wrap around my right nipple, I can’t help it.
I mewl. Gabriel knows just how to make me feel wanted and cherished, and as his lips and tongue flood my body with desire, I’m floating. This is what I want. More than the money or the jewels or the gifts, I just want him to want me.