Embers (Blaze Series Book 3) (5 page)

The front porch sags at the ends like a sad
clown’s droopy mouth. The yard is piled high with roof shingles that the owner
dumped there months back promising ‘to do some fixing up!’ and which have now
turned into a Hilton for mice. That is, if they can find their way through the
thick gray cobwebs that puff out between the boards.

When we step onto the faded, peeling green
porch, it lets out a long squeal like a tattletale seeing students arriving
late to class. I wince, hoping Gabriel can’t see my face. I have to jiggle the
key in the rusty steel lock before it finally turns. At least the brass hinges
don’t shriek.

We walk into the long dark front corridor
and I don’t turn on the lights. I don’t want Gabriel to see the way the pale
yellow walls have old water stains running down them. The too-white light of a
TV set pours out from the living room. I can see Sarah’s brown hair popping up
over the couch.

“Hey,” I call out, but there’s no reply. She
must be asleep after another long shift at the hospital.

I lead him into my bedroom. There’s a
nervousness in my movements. I’m overthinking everything, because I still don’t
know if this is the right thing to do.

“Here we are,” I say, ushering him in. He
silently closes the door behind him.

It’s an icy little shoebox and I hustle over
to the space heater. Its cheerful orange light flicks on with a whir and warm
air starts pouring out. When I turn back around Gabriel is sitting on my bed,
looking at my checkered comforter, its red and blue squares the brightest thing
in the room. His gray eyes calmly move back up to me.

“So,” I say. “This is my room.”

I shrug, indicating my crowded, cramped
shelves full of books, the little wooden desk with my laptop, the stand-up
cupboard overflowing with my clothes.

“This is my life.”

He pats the bed.

“Come sit with me.” I roll my eyes, but I do
what he says.

“This feels so strange,” I say, dropping
down beside him so hard I make the bed bounce. “You’re not supposed to be here.
I don’t want you seeing how—”

“God, won’t you ever stop
talking?
”
he demands, and then his mouth is on mine. For a moment I want to think of a
smart answer, but then the intoxication of him is pouring over me and my mind
goes silent. Finally. Blissfully.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I say, pulling away. “I
just have to—”

I turn the lights off. I’m shy suddenly, now
that he’s in my bedroom. He’s a dark shape in the gloom, but I know he’s still
looking at me. When I go back to the bed, he kisses me again.

“No more waiting,” he growls, and he kisses
my neck, then takes the soft skin of my earlobe into his mouth. I bite my lip
to keep from crying out at the sensation.

He kisses my neck, his hot mouth tracing a
curve down to my shoulder. I grab him through his pants, feeling how hard he is.
He shifts, giving me an easier reach, and I unzip his fly. I reach in and free
him from his briefs. He’s hot and slick in my hand.

I straddle him and we kiss, a long, deep
kiss that makes my heart race. My hand is between us and I coat my palm with his
slippery precum before tracing my fingers over him lightly. I touch the silken
head of his cock. The memory of all the times that big thick head has pushed
inside me, feeling like he was going to split me open, washes over me.

I slide back off the bed and take him into
my mouth. He’s so swollen, so big, it’s all I can do to fit my mouth over him;
the salty, tantalizing taste bursting on my tongue.

I pump him with my hand while I nibble soft
kisses down his shaft and suck one of his balls into my mouth, laving it with
my tongue. He grunts and I keep pumping at him, feeling him harden even
further.

I stand and strip for him, taking off one
piece at a time. His cock pulses, twitching upward with every passing second.

By the time I’m naked, I’m so wet he slides
into me easily when I straddle him, sliding down his length. I let out a long,
soft sigh as my hips come to rest on his thighs. I want him to impale me.
Feeling him pushing up inside my body is all I need. It’s all I’ve ever needed.

I rock back and forth, his hands on my ass,
clamping me against him. When he swells and explodes inside me I almost start
weeping with relief. He keeps thrusting, his hardness moving inside me, until
finally I collapse against him, my head on his chest, both of us panting.

After a moment, I stir.

“Your flight,” I murmur, playing with the
buttons on his shirt. “You’re going to miss your flight.”

His teeth gleam in the darkness as he laughs
softly.

“I already missed it an hour ago,” he says.
“I was supposed to go straight from the hotel to the airport. But then I saw
you.”

I lay silent for a moment, absorbing this
information.

“It was worth it,” he says, and his hand
comes up to cradle my head.

“So . . . are you still leaving?” I can hear
the tremble in my voice as I ask. He’s silent. The air in the room thickens,
the question pressing against us both. My heart quickens inside my chest.

“I am,” he says finally. “But you didn’t
ever know I was back until tonight.”

“And would it kill you to stay another day
or two?”

“Kate . . . we’re . . . You’re complicated.”

“You keep saying that, but . . .”

I press my body against his. He groans and
his grip tightens in my hair. “Because you’re just as irresistible as you are
frustrating.”

I smile and rub the side of my face against
his chest. I like the thought of him not being able to control himself around
me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, trying not to laugh.

“No you’re not. But you might be, Kate. I
might be. We get so caught up, I can’t tell up from down. I was thinking about
you right before I saw you today. I thought you’d finally driven me mad. But
cars don’t honk at hallucinations. Just the thought of something happening to
you . . . I didn’t know if I wanted to shake you or kiss you. And that’s just how
it is when it comes to you.”

It’s only when he stops speaking that I
realize I’ve been holding my breath. I release it in a long sigh. I know
exactly what he means. Time stopped when I saw him earlier, and nothing
mattered except getting to him. As much as I am a distraction for him, he
affects me the same way.
So, what does that mean when he leaves, as he
always does? Why should I put myself through this?

He’s stroking my hair now, his hand coming
to rest against the back of my neck. His thumb moves in a circular motion just
below my ear. It’s just the tip of his finger, but my whole body reacts, overcome
by a small shiver.
This is why, Kate.

But I’m thinking too much, and so is he.
Every time we start placing rules and boundaries, it doesn’t work. We end up
fighting and apart. I want him to stay, but if he doesn’t, well, my world
didn’t end the last time he left.

“You know where to find me if you change
your mind.”

He yawns softy. “Does this mean we can talk
about it in the morning?”

“Oh, is Gabriel Call going to do me the
honor of staying the night?”

He answers with a playful smack on the butt,
and then he kisses the top of my head.

*

“Does anyone call you Gabe?”

“Not anyone who expects an answer.”

“You’re testy before you’ve had your
coffee,” I say, handing Gabriel a mug that reads:
Black, 2 sugars, IV drip.

He smirks and I shrug. “It’s Sarah’s.
Hospital humor.”

In the harsh light of day I’m even more
aware of the fact that he’s rich and my room clearly says I am not. My room says
paycheck to paycheck. But Gabriel looks at ease as he sits on my bed, sipping
his coffee courtesy of Sarah’s French press. He’s already wearing last night’s
clothes and I try not to think about him leaving.

More to give myself something to do than
anything else, I pick up the brush from my dresser and use it to sweep my hair into
a bun. In the mirror, I see Gabriel watching me over the rim of his cup.

“Did you book another flight?” I ask,
reaching for a bobby pin. “I could hear you on the phone when I was in the
kitchen.”

“I did.” Gabriel sets the mug on my
nightstand and strolls over to stand behind me. He tugs on the t-shirt I’m
wearing, pulling me against him. Our eyes meet in the mirror and he says, “I
should get going.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want you to miss it.
Again.”

Still holding my gaze he slowly lowers his
head, his mouth close to my neck. “No chance of that.” His breath is warm
against my skin. “Take-off isn’t for a few days. I need to go check in to the
suite I just reserved.”

He closes his eyes and plants soft kisses
along my neck and shoulders. Good thing, too, because I’m smiling like a fool.

*

The sleek Mercedes is illegally parked at
the curb outside of my office. Gabriel is in a clean, crisp outfit, leaning
against the passenger door, arms crossed over his chest, freshly shaven.

“Hi,” I say. I’m acutely aware a few of my
co-workers have found reason to linger by the entrance, their commutes home
forgotten for the moment. I don’t let that stop me from kissing those soft
lips.

Gabriel pushes off the car and takes my
hand. “How was your day?”

“Busy. And long,” I reply. Truthfully, I
half-expected Gabriel would have changed his mind by now. A text telling me
he’d gone home after all wouldn’t have surprised me. Our entire relationship
seemed to be about him leaving.

“Let’s get out of here then,” he says,
holding open the car door.

I recline the seat slightly and watch him as
he drives. There’s a lightness to him, and he’s relaxed as he tells me about
getting the same suite he’d had when we first met. I blink in surprise when he
says he spent the day shopping.

“You needed clothes, but surely that didn’t
take all day.”

He just smiles like he has a secret. I don’t
even notice we’ve pulled up in front of my house until he’s turning the car off.
I just assumed we’d be going to his hotel. I’m so surprised it takes me a
moment to realize we’re standing on the porch and he’s waiting for me to open
the door. I fish my keys out of my purse.

Inside, he hooks his fingers through mine
and leads me down the hall toward my bedroom. He pauses outside the door and
arches an eyebrow.

“How do you feel about grand gestures?”

“You mean like secretly paying for my
brother’s cancers treatments? How could you ever top that?” I gasp. “Oh, my
God! Is it a pony?”

He shakes his head and whispers, “That mouth
is going to get you in trouble.”

“I’m counting on it.”

And then, because I can’t take the suspense
any longer, I open the bedroom door. The scratched desk from IKEA—inherited
from the previous tenants—is gone and in its place: a dark oak desk, sitting by
the window. My jaw drops.

“You seemed . . . apprehensive last night,
with me here,” he says, watching while I run my fingers along the intricate
carvings along the desk’s edges and handles. “And I don’t think there’s
anything wrong with where you live, but every writer should have her own space
to create.”

My laptop looks so undeserving in the center
of such beauty. And he has thought of everything. There are leather notebooks,
pens and pencils, a small stack of books on writing, and a vase of red, orange,
and yellow peonies.

“Sarah helped me. Do you like it?” he asks
tentatively.

“I love it,” I say.

And I love you, I say, not with words but by
wrapping my arms around his desk, burying my fingers in his hair, and kissing
him until I forget to breathe.

“He loves you.”

“Nat, stop.”

We’re in my office with the door closed,
just finishing up some soup and sandwiches. Leaving the office to eat required
more energy than I currently have. Between work and Gabriel, my days and nights
are filled. I considered calling out while he’s in town, but it felt important
to prove to myself— and him—that my life doesn’t stop because he’s around.
Still, I stifle a yawn as Nat flips her hair impatiently.

“He bought you furniture. That
means
something.”

“Settle down. It’s not exactly a diamond
ring.”

She twists a take-out napkin between her
fingers, and looks at me like I know absolutely nothing. “No, but a piece
furniture is more intimate somehow. You can return a ring when things get bad.
But a desk, furniture, that’s more permanent. Gifting furniture in a
relationship is a sign that things are serious, or about to get serious. That’s
what my nana used to say.”

“Didn’t your nana also used to say that you never
buy your lover shoes because those will be the ones they wear when they walk
out on you?”

She sniffs. “And your point is? That’s good
advice. Look, all I’m saying is that Sam is gonna have to step up his game.”

“It’s not a competition, Nat.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t feel like you
have to choose?” She asks this like she already knows my answer and she doesn’t
believe me.

“I’m saying I’m not really thinking about
it.” This is true. In the past two days I’ve texted with Sam a bit, and he’s
called once. I let that go to voicemail because I was with Gabriel at the time,
but I don’t feel the same guilt as I did when I was with Sam in Cold Ridge. I
try to explain this to Nat.

“Ah, interesting. When you were with Sam,
you felt like you were cheating on Gabriel, even though he’d broken things off.
Yet, you don’t feel like you’re cheating on Sam with Gabriel now.”

“That is not what I said. Listen, weren’t
you the one who told me not to mess this up for independent women everywhere?
Can’t I just care about them both? Be attracted to them both? And just enjoy them
when we’re together? Besides, it’s not like either one has placed any demands
on me. Let me just enjoy this—whatever it is.”

I gather up the remains of our lunch and
toss them in the trashcan, then eye the clock. I consider leaving early. Maybe
I can get a short nap before Gabriel does whatever it is he has planned for the
night.

“Huh,” Nat says, watching me through
narrowed eyes. “it’s cute how you’re acting like this is NBD.”

“We’re talking, Nat. Not texting. You can
actually say the words ‘no big deal.’ And it’s not, okay? Gabriel’s here for a
short time and I’m going to enjoy it, and him, while it lasts. I will deal with
whatever comes next when it gets here.”

I sound strong. Confident. And I’m a little
shocked to realize that I mean every word.