20. Gabriel

20

GAbrIEL

T he bed feels empty without Bella.

I thought I would fall asleep quickly and easily, without the need to worry about how close I was to her, if I might roll over and touch her in the middle of the night and frighten her by accident. I thought that just the fact that my entire bed would be mine again would be enough to send me back into a deep, relaxed sleep. I thought I’d drop down in the middle, spread out, and be glad for my own space once again.

Instead, I lie awake for a long time, missing her. Agnes did laundry and changed the bedding today, and the sheets smell like powdery soap and starch, instead of the warm, soft scent of Bella’s skin. I hadn’t realized that I’d noticed much of anything at all about her at night—I’d been trying so hard not to—but now I know that I did. I noticed the way she always quickly slid beneath the covers, the way she wriggled a little before getting comfortable, the soft hum beneath her breath that she made just before drifting off.

Things that I shouldn’t have noticed. That I have no right to. Things that I shouldn’t think about at all, because it was only ever a temporary solution. I shouldn’t want Bella back in my bed, because that would mean she’s having the nightmares again. Her being safely ensconced in her own room means she’s okay.

That everything is as it should be.

But I still can’t sleep. I’m restless, agitated, half-hard, and I idly reach down and re-adjust myself, trying not to think about Bella in the gym earlier. I could jerk off and hope that relaxes me enough to sleep—but all I’ll do is imagine her while I come.

That’s not going to help matters at all.

Frustrated, I blow out a sharp breath, tossing the covers back and getting up. I drag on a pair of sweatpants over my boxer briefs, running a hand through my hair. Quietly, I walk out into the hall, trying not to make too much noise as I head downstairs.

I don’t even really know where I’m going. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the kind of insomnia that makes me prowl the house at night, but I find myself heading towards the kitchen. A glass of water and a late-night snack doesn’t sound bad. Agnes usually has fruit and cheese and things like that in the fridge—and I open it, peering in for something to eat. Something to do, really.

A light flickers on outside—one of the motion lights—and I freeze, halfway out of the fridge with a piece of cheese in my hand. Slowly, I close the door, walking to the large window at the far side of the kitchen with my pulse picking up in my throat.

Is someone outside?

I don’t keep night security at the house. I never have. I have excellent alarms, and I’ve never been threatened in a way that has ever made me feel that security is necessary. Gio is around during the day, but I certainly don’t expect him to work twenty-four hours.

And then I see a figure moving across the lawn.

I’m instantly on edge, thinking of the Bratva, of the possible threat to Bella—of the threat that I might have allowed to come near my family by bringing her here. I’ve been over it in my head a dozen times, every time coming to the conclusion that it’s not that dire, that I was still right to hire her, that she should stay. That I can’t in good conscience send her home now. But every one of my nerves is on high alert—until the moment that I see the figure approach the fence around the pool, and the motion lights there flicker on.

It’s a feminine figure. One I know very well, because I’ve thought about it more often than I’d like to admit.

Bella is out at the pool at midnight for some reason.

Taking a deep breath, I walk to the back door. I tell myself that I’m going to check on her because I’m worried about her safety. Because she’s admitted she sees a psychiatrist and that she has PTSD and panic attacks. I don’t know how her appointment went today, not really. I don’t know if she’s hit some low that she hasn’t told me about.

I tell myself that it has nothing to do with the possibility that everything is actually okay, and that Bella might be out at the pool at night, in a bathing suit.

But my pulse picks up again, beating hard in my throat just at the thought.

I cross the yard quietly, walking up to the outer fence around the pool. It takes me a moment to see where she’s standing—there’s only a few lights around the pool—but when I do, I feel like I can’t breathe for a moment.

Bella is sliding her sweatshirt over her head, tossing it on the lounge chair, and my cock instantly hardens at the sight of her in nothing but jeans and a bikini top. The black fabric is cupping her full breasts, lifting them, her chest and arms and flat, toned stomach bare, and I see the flex of muscle in her abdomen as she strips the shirt off. I wasn’t the least bit erect when I walked out here, but my cock is suddenly painfully stiff, tenting the front of my sweatpants.

Her hand goes to the button of her jeans, and I have to clench my teeth to stifle a groan.

She’s so fucking gorgeous. As beautiful as I imagined, and better. Her thick, chestnut hair is piled up on her head, leaving the curve of her smooth neck bare, down to the sharp line of her collarbones. When she pushes her jeans down her hips, revealing nothing but a scant bikini bottom underneath it, my cock throbs dangerously.

Her legs are long and muscled from her runs, and as she steps daintily out of the pile of denim, my hand flexes next to my side, itching to wrap around my aching cock. I’m not going to make it upstairs before I have to get myself off. I might not even make it back into the house. I haven’t been so painfully aroused in— god , I can’t remember ever having been this hard before. I feel dizzy with desire, and I want her so badly it hurts.

None of my fevered imaginings about what she might look like with so little clothing on could have come close to the reality of how utterly gorgeous she is.

It’s not until she steps away from the lounge chair, towards the water, that I remember what I’m doing.

I need to go back in the fucking house.

Guilt washes over me, because I’m doing exactly what Bella is afraid of. Standing and staring at her, watching her, when she’s defenseless and vulnerable. I have no idea what she’s doing out here at night in a bathing suit by the pool, but I have a faint guess, and if there’s anything to it, then the shittiest thing I could be doing is standing here gawking at her. Fantasizing about her.

Lusting over her.

My chest aches, the pain there warring with the throbbing pain in my cock, and all I can think is that I need to leave. I need to go back into the house. But I can’t stop staring at her.

She’s the most gorgeous thing I can ever remember seeing. A part of me thinks I’m dreaming, that none of this is real. That I can’t possibly be seeing what I’ve guiltily imagined so many times, and seeing that it outstrips the fantasy by a mile.

Clenching my jaw, I take a step back. My foot slips on the gravel, and I wince, hoping Bella didn’t hear it. But I see her flinch, freezing where she’s standing at the pool’s edge, and she slowly turns.

Her eyes go wide when she sees me there, her lips parting slightly, and I know she’s going to be furious. Hurt. Afraid.

She has every right to be.

“I’m sorry,” I call out quickly. “I saw movement from inside the house and was worried. I came out to check, and make sure no one was on the grounds who shouldn’t be. I’m headed back in.” It all comes out quickly, the words crowding together, and I hope that she doesn’t notice my arousal. That I’m far enough into the shadows that she won’t be able to tell.

Bella looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Her arms wrap around herself, and I see her flinch again, as if she realizes that she’s only wearing a bathing suit.

“I’ll head back in,” I repeat quickly, starting to turn, and then I hear her voice behind me.

“Wait!”

Her voice sounds a little shaky, unsure. I can hear the hesitation in every word as she starts to speak again. “I just wanted to come out for a swim. When I knew no one would see me?—”

And you did. You ruined something she was trying to do for herself. Great job.

“But—do you want to come join me?” Her voice cuts through my mental castigation, and I pause, wondering if I heard her correctly. “It’s kind of fun, being out here at night.”

I know that taking her up on her offer is a bad idea. The worst of ideas. It’s been hard enough for me to remind myself of the professional distance that I should be keeping, the way I should be maintaining the boundaries I’ve set for myself, when we’re in the house with others around. When I’m doing the simplest things around her. When we’re in the gym. When she sleeps in my bed. All occasions where other people are a floor or two away, where we’re alone but not entirely alone.

This is the most isolated we’ve been together. And I know that going for a swim with her in the dark, with so little clothing between the two of us in the hushed intimacy of the night, is a recipe for disaster.

And yet, I find myself turning back towards the gate.

“I have a pair of boardshorts in the pool house,” I call out, closing the gate behind myself and latching it. “I’ll just go and change into those.”

Bella nods, biting her lower lip as she lowers herself onto the edge of the pool, dangling her legs into the water and then pushing herself off into it fully.

My pulse kicks up another notch, hammering in my throat. I should go back to the house. I should tell her ? —

I have no idea what I should tell her. But right now, all I can think is that she’s in the pool, half-naked and dripping wet, and I want to know what she feels like under my hands. Under me .

My cock throbs again, and I grit my teeth, walking towards the pool house.

I know I should leave, and I want to do this, all at the same time. It’s the same as racing the Ferrari down the back roads, or that impromptu dinner—this is the kind of thing that the man that I used to be would have eagerly jumped at. A late-night swim with a gorgeous woman. It’s exactly the kind of thing I loved, once upon a time.

I feel that craving again, that need to remember what that was like, as I step into the pool house and shuck my clothes off into a pile, reaching into a drawer for my boardshorts. My cock is still stubbornly hard, and I reach down, squeezing the base with my fingers as I urge it to soften. I can’t go out and join her in the pool like this, that’s for sure.

That thought, the idea that I might miss out on getting to spend time with her because of my stubborn arousal, is enough to calm me down a little. Enough to let me get a grip on myself, at least—figuratively speaking—so that I can get my boardshorts on and go out to the pool.

Bella is standing in the water, shoulder-deep, her chestnut hair floating darkly out behind her on the water. “It’s warm,” she calls out, skimming her hands over the surface. “Really nice, actually. Like being in the bath.”

The thought of Bella in a bathtub is like a live wire over my skin, and I have to take a deep breath, steadying myself. Reminding myself that I need to keep a rein on my desire.

She’s not mine. She never will be, not in any way. And she deserves so much better than what I can offer her.

I step down into the water, and realize immediately that she’s right. It is warm, soothing almost, and I let out a breath. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I came out here and went swimming,” I admit, and Bella laughs.

“Really? In your own pool?”

I shrug. “I guess I just haven’t really made the time. I always make plans to go and do things with Cecelia and Danny on the weekends—you know that. I try to keep them entertained, make them feel special, like I’m always thinking about what we can all get up to together. But maybe I should think more about what we can do here. Just hanging out by the pool, for example.”

Bella smiles. “They’d probably like that. That’s one of the things I like best about you , by the way,” she adds. “How much you care about them.”

I suck in a breath as her gaze catches mine, the admission sinking deeper than I think she realizes. I tell myself that it’s just an offhand comment, a figure of speech—but the way she said it sticks with me, echoing in my ears. One of the things I like best about you.

I want to ask her what else she likes about me. What else is on that list. But instead, I hear myself asking something else.

“I would have thought you’d want me to leave. Catching you out here like—” I motion towards her, not sure how to describe her in this moment. “In a bathing suit,” I finish awkwardly. There’s at least two arm’s-lengths between us, and I can count every inch, because I want to be so much closer to her. I’m painfully aware of the fact that if one of us moved towards the other, just a little, I could finally touch her.

“I didn’t mean to stare at you,” I add, feeling the need to apologize, in some way. To make sure she knows that I hadn’t meant to ogle her, that I understand how it makes her feel.

“I know.” Bella swallows, and I see the movement in her long, graceful throat.

“Why did you come out here?” It’s a question that I’m not sure I have the right to ask. I know she was hesitant to tell me anything at all, more than I strictly needed to know, having her under my roof. But at the same time, she has told me parts of what happened. She’s seen me stand up for her with her father. She’s slept in my bed.

And I want to know more about her. About this . I want to know what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling, so that I can help her, in whatever form that takes.

Bella bites her lip, sliding her hands through the water again. “My psychiatrist suggested it,” she says finally. “She thought I should try something like this when I was alone. She suggested that maybe it would push me in the direction of a little more progress.”

I wince. “And then I screwed it up by catching you out here.”

She laughs at that, and it startles me. It’s the last reaction I would have expected to that statement. “No, if anything—I think this is more progress, right? The first time I’ve been out of my bedroom in this little clothing since—since before…and I end up sharing my night swim with an equally underdressed man.” She laughs again. “One with no interest in me, but maybe that’s why it’s working.”

Blood rushes in my ears, and I have to force myself to think straight, to try to react nonchalantly. The way I should react, considering the fact that Bella, somehow, thinks I’m entirely uninterested in her. But I clearly take a second too long to smooth my expression and hide what I’m thinking, because I see the look on her face shift.

A small line appears between her eyebrows. “You don’t, do you?” she asks softly, her voice suddenly hushed, thick. “You said you weren’t interested in anything romantic, with anyone.”

“I’m not.” That’s easy enough to say, because it’s the truth. I’ve gone over it a dozen times in my head, at least, in regards to her, and why she deserves better than me. I can’t give any woman a real relationship, not anymore—and especially not Bella. Not the kind of relationship she should have.

She nods quickly, a smile appearing on her lips. “Good,” she says with a small laugh. “I don’t think I could do this if you were trying to seduce me.”

I blink at her, momentarily confused—and then Bella sweeps her hand through the water, splashing me.

She darts backward, laughing, and I know better than to encourage this. I know that right now, I should be explaining how I feel, apologizing for the mixed signals, apologizing for wanting her at all.

But Bella is laughing, a smile on her face, light-hearted and playful for the first time in all the time that I’ve known her, as if the privacy of the night has unlocked something in her, and given her permission to be herself. As if she’s lost her fear, briefly, and has remembered how to be happy.

Desire winds hotly in my belly as I splash her back, moving across the pool towards her. She returns it with another, ducking and laughing, dodging me—although I keep enough space between us that I don’t risk accidentally touching her. She splashes me again, drenching me, and then swims towards the wall, treading water as I splash her again, following.

A few inches away, I stop, the water settling between us. Her hair is soaked, slicked back away from her face, her blue eyes huge. She’s gripping the sides of the ledge beneath her, sitting on it with her back to the pool’s edge, and my pulse throbs in the hollow of my throat.

“You’re looking at me like that again,” she whispers, her voice so hushed that I almost miss what she says. But not quite.

“How?” It comes out on a rasp, and I don’t know how she could possibly, ever, think that I don’t want her. Her relative innocence when it comes to men is the only answer, because I can hear the lust rolling thickly off my tongue.

“Like you did in the living room that night. When I broke the wine glass.” Her voice is so soft, almost shy, a faint tremor on the edges of the words. “Like?—”

She swallows hard, and I move closer. I can’t help it—it’s instinctual, the way she pulls me in. Her mouth is soft and full, parted, and I want to kiss her so badly it hurts. I want to know how her mouth feels against mine. If her lips are as soft as they look.

“Like that,” Bella whispers, her eyes wide, and I lean forward, my hands gripping the edge of the pool as I lean in to kiss her.

It’s only when I see her flinch that I stop, a breath away from her mouth, and pull back.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly. “I don’t know why I thought—I shouldn’t have?—”

But it’s only half true, because it’s evident why I thought it was the right moment. Or at least, why I couldn’t stop myself any longer. Her eyes are shining with desire, her lips parted, her throat flushed, and her chest heaving with her quick breaths. She wants me, and I can see it written on every inch of her. For the first time in a long time, she’s aroused, and it’s because of me .

Just the thought is enough to make my cock nearly rip a hole in the front of my shorts.

I should apologize and leave. I know that. But all I can think of is the way she’s looking at me—like she wants me and trusts me all at the same time, like she’s as tangled up and confused as I am. My mind starts to form a solution even as I think that I should put a stop to this, before it goes too far and she gets hurt.

“I know you don’t want me to touch you,” I say softly.

“I—” Bella’s mouth trembles. “I don’t know what I want.”

“At the very least, you’re afraid of me touching you. But if you trust me—” I hesitate. “Can I try something?”

Bella licks her lips, hesitating for the briefest moment—but then her eyes meet mine, and to my astonishment, she nods.

“Yes,” she whispers, and my entire body tightens. I know I’m letting this go too far. I know that what I’m about to do is pushing the boundaries far past the point of breaking.

But I can’t bring myself to stop.