24. Bella

24

BELLA

O n Saturday, as promised, Gabriel leaves the kids with Agnes for the day to spend the morning and afternoon with me. I see the smirk on Agnes’ face as we get up from the breakfast table, but I try to pretend that it doesn’t mean what I think it does. She can’t possibly know anything about what’s happening between us.

And what is that, exactly? I ask myself as Gabriel goes to collect his keys, and I go upstairs to change, having just thrown on sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt for breakfast after our workout. It’s been two days since that morning in the gym. The morning after, we made it halfway through the workout before I was up against the wall, Gabriel’s mouth on mine, my hands tugging down his workout shorts. I wasn’t ready for him to touch me below the waist yet, so I’d gotten myself off while he stroked himself and came on my stomach again, both of us coming nearly at the same time. And yesterday?—

Yesterday, I still hadn’t been ready to push things further. The thought of Gabriel’s hand between my legs—or anything more—still gave me that panicky, nervous feeling. So instead, he’d kissed me and played with my nipples while I made myself come, waiting until I was finished. And then he’d slipped his cock out and put my hand on it, his hand wrapped around mine as we got him off together.

I was fairly sure that a handjob wasn’t supposed to be as intimate as that had felt. That it shouldn’t have been hot as it was, his gaze holding mine the entire time as our hands had moved together, pushing him closer and closer to the brink, his hand gripping mine as he’d throbbed in my fist and spilled all over my stomach. It had turned me on so much that I’d had to get myself off again in the shower, thinking about him.

This morning, we didn’t even get further than stretches. Gabriel had moved closer to me on the mat, slid his hand into my hair, and kissed me until I was breathless. I’d been ready to fool around again, but he’d stopped, and gotten up from the mat.

“Later,” was all he said, and then we’d gotten back to the workout—although I don’t think I did a very good job. I was far too distracted.

Now, I can’t help but wonder what he meant by later , as I go up to change. I look through my clothes, feeling a quiver of nerves in my stomach.

I want to wear something summery. Something he would like—something I’d wear if this really were a date. It’s not, and I know it’s not—at best, it’s the kind of afternoon date that friends would go on, like an afternoon out with Clara.

Except you don’t do those things with Clara, do you? So it’s different. It’s a date. A real date.

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the thought. Gabriel wouldn’t call it a date, and I’m not going to, either. He’s been very clear about what we are to each other—all of the boundaries and lines set. But I find myself not wanting to wear the heavy, uncomfortable clothes that I’ve covered up in for the last several months.

I’m not ready to go out in shorts and a tank top yet, either. But surely there’s a middle ground—I thumb through my stacks of clothes, thinking about the fact that we’ll undoubtedly encounter other people, and how that will make me feel.

But Gabriel will be with me, and I know he’ll keep me safe.

I take a breath, going to my closet. There’s a gorgeous, silky maxi dress hanging in there that I love, with spaghetti straps and a v-neckline, that comes down to my ankles but has slits up either side to just above my knees. It’s white with a vibrant sunflower pattern that takes up most of the dress, the back scooping low, with the straps criss-crossing in the back. I take it out, considering.

When I slip it over my head, the silk feels sensual against my skin, slippery and smooth, almost indulgent. It flatters me beautifully—I’ve gained a little weight since moving here, in all the right ways, and it clings attractively to my hips and breasts, the v-neck showing the smallest hint of cleavage. When I move, my legs peek out of the slits, but not drastically.

I take a lightweight chambray shirt out of the closet, pulling it on, and tying it at my waist. After a moment’s thought, I take a deep breath, and roll up the sleeves to my elbows.

There. I look in the mirror, realizing that I don’t feel as afraid as I thought I would. There’s a tremor in my stomach, but it’s more at the thought of Gabriel seeing me like this than anything else—wondering what the look on his face will be, what he’ll say.

I slip on my rose gold jewelry, the familiarity of it comforting, and slip my feet into a pair of sandals. My toes are unpainted, but I can’t bring myself to think about that right now. The fact that I’m wearing shoes other than heavy combat boots is enough to tackle at the moment.

Gabriel is waiting for me in the foyer. And when he turns around, the look on his face is enough to stop me in my tracks—enough to make me glance around quickly to see if anyone else is there, because if anyone else saw it, they would know instantly everything that’s happened between us.

There’s so much heat in his gaze that it could set me on fire. It sweeps over me, and he swallows hard, his throat constricting as he takes me in. “You look fucking incredible,” he murmurs, his eyes raking over me again, as if he can’t get enough. “You—are you going to be okay in that?”

Something melts in my chest, that his next thought so quickly after seeing me is my well-being. I nod, a small, jerky motion. “I think so.”

“I planned on taking you to lunch.” He’s looking at me hungrily, as if he wants to eat me instead, and something in my stomach tightens at the thought. “And I thought you could show me those botanical gardens. There’ll be other people around.”

I nod again, nervously. “I think I’ll be okay. I—I want to try.”

Gabriel smiles, a slow, bright smile that spreads across his face. He crosses the space between us, stopping just in front of me, and he lifts his hand, stopping just shy of cupping my cheek. When I meet his gaze, he brings his hand in slowly, his fingers grazing my jaw, and I shiver.

But I don’t flinch. I don’t flinch . I feel a burning behind my eyes at the realization.

“If you can’t handle it,” he says quietly, “I’ll bring you back home the second you say. No questions asked. We just go, if you’re uncomfortable. Promise you’ll tell me if you are.”

I bite my lip, trying not to let tears well up. I can see the heat in his eyes still, can see his desire for me—but all of that is taking a backseat to his concern. And nothing has ever meant more to me in my entire life.

I nod. “I promise.”

“Okay.” Gabriel steps back, shoving his hands in his pockets, as if he needs to stop himself from touching me before it goes further. “Come on. We’re taking the Ferrari.”

My eyes go wide. “You’re teaching me how to drive the Ferrari? On my second lesson?”

A guilty expression crosses his face. “I hope you’re not too disappointed,” he says slowly. “I think we’ll put off the driving lesson for another day. I’d like to spend more time in the city with you. And give you plenty of time for taking photos of whatever you want.” There’s a hint of something else in his face, a glint in his eyes that makes me think he’s not telling me everything, but I’m too busy absorbing everything else to think very much about it.

“That’s fine,” I tell him quickly. “I want another driving lesson, but—as long as we can do it another day? I want to take pictures more.”

Gabriel grins. “I thought you’d say that. Let’s go.”

I can’t help thinking, as we walk out to where the Ferrari is parked in front of the house, how easy this all is. Too easy. Gabriel is cautious with me, not taking my hand, giving me room still. He opens my door for me, and I realize that from the house to the car, I haven’t thought about or worried about what I’m wearing. About the feeling of having my arms bare and my legs peeking through my skirt.

It wouldn’t seem like much to most people, but it’s a huge step for me.

The car purrs as Gabriel starts the engine, and I bite my lip, sliding my hands over the seats. I love the car, and I can’t help hoping that, eventually, Gabriel might actually let me try driving it. Sometime in the future.

There’s no future with him, I remind myself firmly. Not one past friendship. There’s room in that for him to teach me to drive his favorite car, I know that—but I also know I have to be careful. That Gabriel will make it so easy for me to fall in love with him, and I’m going to actively have to work not to.

And he won’t even mean to, because he’s been perfectly clear that that’s off the table.

The drive into the city is perfect. Gabriel puts the top down, and I pile my hair on top of my head, a few wisps flying out around my face. I see Gabriel looking at me in my periphery as I slide a pair of sunglasses on, and he reaches out, his hand hovering a little over my thigh before he gently sets it on my leg.

Warmth crawls up my skin, my heart beating a little faster. I slowly put my hand on top of his, curling my fingers around the side of his palm. And we sit like that, all the way into the city, our hands wrapped together on my leg.

When we park outside the botanical gardens, I’m not sure I want to let go.

Gabriel comes around to open my door for me, and I slide out of the passenger’s side. I’m close enough to him to touch as I stand up, and he sucks in a breath, his eyes darkening as they land on my face. He closes the door slowly, turning towards me, and his voice is husky when he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?”

My heart pounds in my chest. We’re in public. I’m not entirely sure why that feels like it matters, except that it does. “That feels real,” I whisper, and Gabriel hesitates.

“This is all real, Bella,” he says softly. “There’s just an endpoint. If that’s still okay with you. If you still want to, knowing?—”

Don’t fall for this man. I know what I should do. I should step back, and not let him kiss me in public. We should keep this behind closed doors, in quiet rooms, out of sight, the way you’re supposed to when the affair you’re having will eventually come to an end. When you know there’s a ticking clock, an end date, a finish line to the thing that you’re sharing with someone else.

But instead, I step closer. Gabriel reaches up, sliding my sunglasses off of my face, and tosses them onto the seat, through the open window behind him. And then he only hesitates for one moment before he cups my face in both of his hands, drawing me up against him as he brings my mouth up to his.

His mouth is warm and soft, his body a hard contrast everywhere—over six feet of firm muscle—and I lean into him. My hands settle on his waist, and I feel tears prick behind my eyelids again, because for the first time in months—maybe the first time ever—I feel normal.

I’m outside, wearing a dress, with a handsome man kissing me before we go on a semi-date. I could be any girl, anywhere in the world, having this exact experience, and the normalcy of it almost makes me dizzy. I laugh, smiling against Gabriel’s mouth, and even the knowledge that this is temporary isn’t enough to dull my happiness.

He reaches up, brushing away a tear with his thumb, and I don’t flinch. I don’t know how easy it will be with someone else, but with Gabriel, it’s becoming easier and easier to let him touch me. He makes me feel safe.

“Kissing you isn’t supposed to make you cry,” he says softly. But from the look in his eyes, I know I don’t have to explain why it did. And that makes me feel safe, too. It’s not just my body that feels safe with him, but my emotions, my heart, everything that makes up me— my past and my present, all carefully guarded by him.

I’m in so much trouble. The thought ricochets through my head as I collect my camera and we start to walk into the gardens, but I push it out of my mind. I want to enjoy this. I want to feel all of it. And in the end, when we have to stop, it will probably hurt. But so does anything else, when it ends. I’ll probably have other relationships that will end, and hurt, too.

I want to enjoy this while it’s happening.

The afternoon is perfect. Gabriel walks with me through the botanical gardens, and I show him all my favorite flowers, taking pictures of each one. I tell him about angles and light and show him the images as I take them, and he actually listens. It’s not just him humoring me—I can tell that he’s really listening, that he really cares. That even if he doesn’t understand all of it, he’s happy to listen to me talk about it.

I see him wince when I take a photo of him, a glorious spray of roses as the backdrop behind him, and laugh. “What’s wrong?”

Gabriel shrugs. “I just don’t like my picture taken.”

“Oh.” I bite my lip. “I’m sorry.”

“No—I mean, it’s not like that. It’s not that it upsets me.”

I look at him curiously. “What is it, then?”

He shrugs again, carelessly. “It sounds stupid. I know I’m good-looking, I’m not pretending to be overly modest or anything. But I’ve never liked a picture of myself. I guess it just doesn’t translate. I’m not—photogenic, I suppose.”

I can’t help but smile at that. “Come look at this one,” I urge him. He gives me a long-suffering look, but finally walks over to my side, standing next to me so that I can tilt the back of the camera towards him, holding it up. “Look,” I urge him, and he does.

The photo is a good one. I know that as soon as I see it. I managed to catch him perfectly framed by the roses, the light coming from the glass behind him setting off his chiseled face to perfection, the shadows exactly where they should be. He looks like a model, standing there with his hands in the pockets of his dark grey chinos, the black t-shirt that he’s wearing clinging to his muscles in all the right places. “You look like a perfume ad,” I tell him with a laugh, and Gabriel rubs a hand over his mouth, looking at me sideways.

“That’s—a really incredible picture,” he concedes. “I don’t really think I look like myself, honestly.”

“That’s what I see every time I look at you.”

It comes out before I realize what I’m saying, and I almost drop the camera. Those words should have stayed tightly locked inside of my head—I know they should have. For all the intimacies we’ve shared so far and all the ones we probably still will, despite the way Gabriel said it is real, earlier—I can’t help but feel that was a step too far. And that feeling only sinks in deeper when I look up, and see the expression in Gabriel’s eyes.

There’s heat there, and longing—but also regret. The regret of a man who is seeing something he wants to keep, and knows he can’t.

A lump rises in my throat, and I let the camera fall back against my chest. “Come on,” I say, a little too brightly. “I want to show you the butterfly garden.”

We leave an hour and a half later, my camera full of photos and my heart lighter once again. I got stunning pictures of the butterflies, ones I can’t wait to look at on my laptop, and I sit next to Gabriel at lunch, going through them as he leans across, close enough to me that I can smell the woodsy scent of his cologne and feel the heat coming off of his skin.

I’ve had Clara in my life for a long time, and she’s always cared about the things that were important to me. But no one else ever has. Gabriel isn’t bored, or just tolerating it until I’m done going on about which pictures I love the most and why, or what I’d do differently with others if I went back. He’s not patronizing me. He clearly has no idea what I’m talking about for half of it, but he also clearly doesn’t care.

He’s taking pleasure in my happiness, and I never knew how wonderful that could be.

Clara was right, I think as the server brings us our sandwiches, and the lemonade I ordered. He is going to set an impossibly high bar for anyone else. But that’s a good thing. I’ll never again let anyone treat me as less than what I’m worth. I’ll always expect more, because Gabriel has shown me that men like him do exist. And even if it can’t be Gabriel, there will be someone.

I have hope, and that matters more than anything. And while I do have him?—

I’m going to enjoy every second.

“Do you want to go driving on the back roads again?” Gabriel asks me, a glint in his eye as we leave the restaurant. “I don’t really think I need to ask, but—” He draws out the last word with a smile, as I nod.

“Alright then. Let’s go.”

He leads me back out to the car, my pulse tripping excitedly at the thought of speeding down a back road in the Ferrari again. “You’re going to let me drive this one day, right?” I ask him teasingly as I slide in, and Gabriel laughs.

“One day. If you practice, and get good enough, sure.”

The promise makes my heart flutter. He starts the car, turning on the folk station as we drive out of the city, and that makes my heart feel warm and soft, too—the fact that he remembered what kind of music I like. The faint notes of Sweet Heat Lightning trail through the car, mostly swept away by the wind, and I lean back against the buttery soft seat, thinking about how good Gabriel’s hand felt on my thigh, and how I wish he’d put it there again.

In a matter of days, I’ve gone from being terrified by being touched, to wishing Gabriel would touch me more often. Good progress. I smile to myself, and I see Gabriel glance over at me.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, turning off of the main highway and onto one of the back roads.

I laugh softly. “I was thinking about what I’m going to tell my psychiatrist at my next appointment. She said I should try to make progress. I’m not sure if this is what she meant.”

Gabriel laughs, too. “Well, I’m glad this is what you decided on.” His hand moves to rest on my thigh again, and I hear his indrawn breath when the muscle beneath his palm twitches, my legs squeezing together as heat floods through me.

We drive all the way out to the back road where he opened up the car last time, and he takes his hand away, resting it on the gear shift as he glances over at me. “Ready?” he asks, and I nod, excitement and anticipation fluttering through me as he turns onto the long, open road. It stretches out ahead of us for at least a mile, nowhere else to be seen, and Gabriel presses his foot down on the gas.

It’s mesmerizing, watching him drive. He shifts fluidly, his hands moving as if he’s one with the car, the transitions so smooth that I wouldn’t know they were happening if I wasn’t watching him. The world whips by us, the car gaining speed, and I can see from the flush on Gabriel’s face and the glint in his eyes that he loves this. That it’s thrilling him as much as it is me, that he’s as reluctant to slow down as I am as he starts to run out of road.

He slows down, turning as the road loops into a secluded cul-de-sac with empty park space at the back of it, no houses or civilization to be seen for miles. My heart is still pounding, and I look at the thin path that leads deeper into the trees, my pulse beating wildly in my throat.

“Can you park back there?” I whisper, nodding to the secluded grove. “And turn the car off?”

Gabriel looks over at me, his eyes still mischievous, even as his pupils darken. “Now it’s just the car turning you on,” he teases, a smirk at the corner of his lips. “Not me.” But he drives forward anyway, deeper into the trees, stopping at the end of the path and putting the car in park. He turns off the engine, and the view in front of us is incredible—acres of gorgeous upstate New York forest—but all I can look at is him.

“No,” I whisper. “It’s definitely you.”

Gabriel leans over, one hand sliding into my hair as he unsnaps first his seatbelt, and then mine, with his other hand. He pulls me towards him, his eyes dark and hungry as he takes me in, my mouth a breath away from his.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed feeling alive until I met you,” he breathes against my mouth, his voice a low, aching rasp. “I’m going to remember that forever.”

His mouth crushes against mine, hard and hot, the deepest kiss he’s given me yet. Trusting that I want it, trusting me to tell him to stop if I don’t—but the only thing I don’t want is for him to stop. All I want is his mouth, hungry and devouring mine, his other hand falling to my waist and sliding into the space between my dress and my shirt as he tugs it free, the knot in the front coming undone so that the shirt falls open.

“Tell me how far I can go,” he whispers, his hand sliding up to my breast, his tongue tracing my lower lip. “Tell me what you want.”

Right now, all I want is for him to never stop kissing me. “Just keep going,” I whisper. “And I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

He groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating against my lips as his hand slips beneath the slit in my skirt. The touch of his fingers against my bare thigh is electric, and I gasp, my legs parting without a thought as his hand curves against my leg.

“So soft,” Gabriel breathes against my mouth, his thumb brushing over my breast. My nipple stiffens against the silk, and he lets out another shuddering groan. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

I shake my head wordlessly, arching into his touch. I’m no longer afraid. I want his hands everywhere, everywhere that they can be, and I whimper against his mouth, pleading for things that I don’t know yet how to ask for.

Gabriel’s fingers slide higher, up my inner thigh, nearly to the soaked fabric of my panties. He hesitates, pulling back from the kiss briefly, giving me a moment to tell him to stop.

“Please,” I whisper. “Keep going.”

“ God , Bella.” His hand leaves my breast, reaching up to twine gently through my hair. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

And then the hand between my legs slides up, his fingertips brushing against the front of my panties. He sucks in a breath, his forehead pressed against mine. “You’re so fucking wet. I can feel it through your panties. You’re fucking drenched for me.”

I nod, my hips arching up into his touch. “That’s happened a lot, lately,” I whisper weakly, my voice cracking with need, and Gabriel’s mouth curves into a smile as he captures my mouth in another kiss, his fingers gliding over the soaked fabric.

For a few moments, that’s all he does. The man has the patience of a saint—I’ve touched him enough now to know how hard he must be, that he must be aching for relief—but he makes no movement to touch himself, or to encourage me to touch him. He strokes me gently, through the fabric of my panties, until I buck against his hand with frustration, and then he laughs softly as he nudges the fabric aside.

The first touch of his fingers against my bare pussy makes me cry out. Gabriel groans, his fingers slipping between my slick folds with such ease that it makes his breath hitch. “Fucking god , Bella—you’re such a good girl. You make it so easy for me to get inside that sweet pussy, once you want to let me, don’t you? You would feel so good around my cock, baby.” His fingers glide over my clit as he murmurs the soft words against my ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it and sending shivers over my skin as he strokes my clit gently. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, whimpering as his fingers slide down, circling my entrance before he drags them back up to my swollen clit.

“Gabriel—” I gasp his name, arching into his hand. “I need to come. Please?—”

“Oh I know,” he murmurs, still circling my clit with his fingers. “I can feel it.” He leans back, dragging his fingers down to my entrance again. “You want my fingers in you, baby? Do you want to come on my hand like that?”

I’m so far gone that I can’t imagine not wanting it. I know this is a step, allowing this—but I don’t want him to stop. And I’m so tired of overthinking it all. I want to coast on this wave of pleasure, let it overwhelm me. I want to experience everything I’ve been missing.

I nod helplessly, my forehead against my shoulder as Gabriel presses the heel of his hand against my clit. “Yes,” I gasp. “Make me come just like that. Please.”

“I’ll give you anything you want,” he whispers. The tip of his index finger is poised at my entrance, and he presses it gently there. I gasp when it slips inside, clenching around him, and Gabriel groans raggedly, sucking in his breath between his teeth.

“ Fuck , you’re so fucking tight, Bella. You’d feel so perfect around my cock, baby.”

“Not yet,” I whisper, a tiny thread of panic slipping past the desire, and Gabriel nods, turning his head to kiss the side of my throat.

“No, not yet. But we’ll get there. First you learn to take my fingers.” He slides his finger back and forth, curling it slightly, and a jolt of pleasure washes over me. “Can you take another?”

I nod helplessly, so caught up in sensation that I can’t speak. I feel Gabriel slip another finger inside of me, and he moans.

“God, this feels so good. You, wrapped around any part of me like this. Does it feel good for you, too?”

“Yes,” I whisper brokenly, my hips moving against his hand. “It feels so good. So good—” His fingers move faster, his hand rocking against me, and I’m so close. “I’m going to come; I?—”

“God, yes, Bella. Come all over my fingers. Come for me?—”

The pleasure crashes over me in a torrent, my eyes squeezing tightly shut as I clench and flutter around Gabriel’s fingers, crying out as I buck against his hand. Everything he’s done to me so far is magnified, a new level of bliss reached, and I bite at his throat without meaning to, teeth scraping against his skin. “Gabriel, Gabriel, oh god?—”

“ Fuck , I love it when you moan my name.” His voice is hoarse with lust, his hand pressed up tightly against me. “I want to hear it again.”

I raise my head just enough to look at him, with the flicker of a wicked gleam in my eyes. “Then make me,” I whisper, and Gabriel groans.

“You said no fucking yet,” he murmurs, grazing his mouth over mine. “So that won’t happen today. But I want to taste you.” His tongue glides over my lower lip, but I know that’s not what he’s talking about. He slides his fingers out of me, excruciatingly slowly, and lifts them to his mouth.

A shudder of pleasure ripples through me, watching him lick me off of his fingers. It’s obscene and erotic and something I would never have thought would turn me on, but hearing Gabriel moan at the taste of my pussy makes me want more. More of anything he can give me, just short of going all the way.

His hand dips between my thighs again, and I moan as he reaches down, unzipping his pants. In one quick motion, he slips his hard cock free, and I stare at it, hard and thick and already dripping pre-cum.

“See what you do to me?” Gabriel murmurs. He slips his fingers out of me, sweeping them up through my folds until his hand is drenched in my arousal, and then he wraps it around his cock, using my own wetness as lubricant.

I start to reach for him, but he shakes his head, leaning in to kiss me as he gently grabs my hand and pushes it away. “I want to make you come again with my tongue, Bella,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth over mine. “I want that sweet pussy all over my face and my cock when I come for you.”

My heart stutters in my chest. The thought of his warm, wet tongue on me makes me clench, my body shuddering with arousal. The idea of it is vulnerable, more exposed than I’ve ever been to him—but I trust him. If he tries, and I want to stop, he’ll stop.

I look up at him, and nod. “I’m all yours,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss him again. “Just make me come again.”