Mind Over Matter (13 page)

She'd forget about Travis in time. Remembering how much they loved each other would take the place of all that guilt. So would feeling him again. She was already moving with urgency, already understanding what he wanted and needed from her.

More...

Everything there was to give. She sat up then, eyes glittering, breath shaky, and rode him slow and steady. Taking her time. And he closed his eyes, slid his fingers over the soft skin of her arms, gripped her hips and caressed her silky thighs.

More and more...

"Fuck, don't stop," he hissed. Her nails were scraping down his torso, toying with the tribal pattern of the twin tattoos on either side of it. Her breasts heaved into his palms and she gasped at each potent stroke.

The pace quickened. Their bodies shuddered. Soon nothing was on their minds but the bliss of getting lost in each other again. She didn't stop for quite some time. And just when they thought they'd had enough, one or the other would lay a hand on slick skin, kiss bruised but needy lips, and suck on tender throbbing flesh. Just like that it would start again, and the bed would be their willing prison, their sanctuary caging them in from the intrusions of the outside world...

And the calls Travis made when the time ticked away and Nicole still hadn't returned home.

Chapter Thirteen

She woke and immediately the panic set in.

When had she fallen asleep? What time was it?

Outside the sun was setting, the sky cast in the watercolor beauty of another day fading into memory. And yet she could still feel everything that had happened. As if in some alternate universe Gabriel was still kissing her, still inside her and whispering the words echoing in her head.

In this universe, however, he lay sleeping beside her on his stomach, and everything was now in the realm of what could not be undone. Dark hair was in his closed, flickering eyes, catching the light of the golden sun so that it shone with caramel-colored accents. The defined curves of his shoulder and bicep bracketed his gorgeous face like his pillow, and the weight of his body rose and fell heavily into his king-sized bed. She felt swallowed up in the sheets, in the smell of him on her skin. The smell of them together, the magic they made still lingering in the air like his kisses on her swollen lips.

Thinking of his lips on hers made her lightly touch the pouting flesh of her mouth. Caught in a trance she stared at his, remembering his kisses so vividly she could almost taste him again. His lips looked so full and red, bruised by how hungry she'd been for them and how she had attacked them with her teeth, her tongue, how she'd sucked on them like a delicacy. Like she'd sucked on even lower, more swollen things...

She felt faint despite the comfortably warm air. Her skin seemed on fire, and the sounds in the room amplified, the city waiting to come alive and Gabriel’s soft sighs of exhaustion. Every noise seemed to mimic the rhythm of a ticking clock. She could forget time when she stole glances of him, especially his tan skin looking like a creamed coffee confection against the off-white fabric draped over the narrow slope of his hips.

It was his skin that really made her think. An odd fragmentary comparison that pushed her mind into full-fledged remorse even as her body relished the sight of him. His tan skin was different than Travis' paler, rosier complexion. No light smattering of freckles dotting Gabriel's shoulders. No jagged points of twin tribal tattoos starting just under her boyfriend's shoulder blades. And Travis' sheets — oh, God,
their
sheets — were a light gray, not the off-white that so deliciously complimented her first love's addictive skin.

She covered her mouth and swallowed down bile-flavored guilt. She had to get out of there. She wished she could stay with a fierceness that scared her and brought tears to her eyes. But how could she dream of staying when all these questions were screaming through her skull?

What was she going to do now? What about Travis? Oh God, what if he'd called her? She'd been gone for hours! Shit, it felt like days... long, blissful, passionate, body-numbing and mind-blowing days...

Focus, Nicole. Fucking. Focus.

Where was her phone? Clothes? Keys?

Fuck! What time is it?!

She felt like the victim of the best hangover ever. Sex with Gabriel had always been a life-altering event, an endorphin bonanza. If she could have bottled and sold the way it felt to come with him she'd be a very wealthy woman. Instead, she was the woman who’d fallen victim to that powerful drug again. She was a guilt-ridden woman, a reluctant-to-leave-but-even-more-reluctant-to-face-Gabriel-when-he-woke woman. She was a woman now officially off the Gabriel sobriety wagon, a full-fledged addict all over again.

How she managed to still be tempted to wake him, roll him over, and climb aboard again was beyond her mental faculties. Suddenly she was more afraid of what she might do to him if she didn't start moving, than what might happen if he woke up and found her struggling to gather her things, struggling to figure out what the fuck she was supposed to do now.

There was no handbook for this, and if there had been she wouldn't have had the time to read it. She needed to pack up her things and get out of Gabriel's place. She needed to think. She needed to run, because she knew if those dark lashes stirred, if those brown eyes opened and he looked up at her with that sleepy, sensual grin she was done for. She would forget all reason. She would forget Travis. As she had once already today.

As quietly as a clumsy girl can, she slipped out of the sheets she was tangled in. Finding her clothes as she tiptoed around the hardwood floor was nothing short of a challenge. Funny how taking them off had been quick and painless, nothing like finding them and remembering how Gabriel had peeled them off her body like a starving man finally able to feast.

Her thighs tightened and she literally steeled herself against the pang of longing that stirred her womb to life. How could she leave him? How could she sneak out when all she wanted to do was go back to bed, drape herself over the smooth warm skin of his back and listen to his steady breaths? If only she could imagine such peace, if only it was that simple. If only she could get Travis out of her head. No, it was Gabriel she meant, not Travis. After all, he was the other man. He was the one she was supposed to purge from her thoughts, while Travis was the one she should be laying beside as he breathed against her.

Her molars smashed against each other as she gritted her teeth and tried to focus. One thing at a time. And the first of those things was the retrieval of her clothes. Her panties were draped over the foot of the bed, her bra on the floor, her sweater was across the room close to the door, and her jeans were on the other side of the bed, her phone and keys still shoved into the pockets. That's what she needed to focus on. She needed the urgent reminder each article of clothing gave her, the remembrance that before she came here she'd been clothed and resolved to end this rabbit hole journey with her ex. She had someone to get back to. Even though she had no idea what she would say or how she would fix this, she couldn't stay here and hide from what she'd done. She piled her clothes onto the chair by his desk, and then started to pull on her panties and bra when she stilled at the sound of Gabriel's voice.

"Where are you going?" he asked, with only a slight hint of grogginess. As if he'd been awake longer than she'd realized.

Nicole came to her full height as her panties slid into place. Gabriel's eyes took in the silky contours of her body, and when she looked at him over the creamy curve of her shoulder, he felt his breath catch in his throat and his cock rise for another taste of her.

He repeated his question. This time she bit her lip and turned away. He mourned the uninterrupted lines of her back when the straps of her bra settled onto her shoulder blades.

"I... have to get back home," she said quietly.

Home.

His jaw clenched and his fingers curled under. He knew she hadn't meant it to sting but it didn't matter. Knowing home was where Travis was, and that returning there was what she was supposed to do, burned him up almost as much as being inside of her.

Gabriel watched her, the silence weighing heavily in the room as she slid on her jeans. Then her sweater. His heart hammered in his chest when she bent over to pull on her socks and shoes. She was really going to leave.

"This could be your home," he heard himself say. Before he could censor the words for the sake of saving face, they'd left his mouth. Now they hung heavy in the air, slowing her movements. At least she was merciful enough to turn around and face him, though no amount of clothing could save her from the way his eyes drank in her frame.

"What?" she asked softly.

He sat up, bracing his elbows on his sheet-covered knees. He forced himself to take measured breaths, to think about each word so it came out right. "I remember how much you loved this place. It's part of the reason I picked it, even though I didn't quite realize it at the time. I never dreamed..."

He looked up, noticing that he was staring down at the tent of fabric covering his naked body, instead of the woman he was trying to convince to stay with him. "I hoped that one day we'd get back together, and that when we did I'd be the guy you were waking up next to every morning. I was starting to lose hope we ever would. But now... You could do that now." He swallowed, his courage losing momentum as her eyes became confused and guilty. Panicked. "You could call this home, Nicole."

Her exhalation sounded like an omen, a gust of torrential wind so loud in his spacious apartment.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Where was her smile? Where was the relief, the wash of joyful tears coating her dark eyes? Where was the girl who would have squealed, "Really?!" before diving into his arms and kissing him into oblivion?

"Gabe... I don't know what to say."

He gave her his most charming, lopsided grin. "Say you'll come back to bed. Say you'll wake up with me in a few hours and let me make you breakfast."

There was yearning in her gaze and a subtle clenching of her thighs. She swallowed and then finally tore her eyes away from him.

He could feel himself shaking, heat flushing his skin. Embarrassment. Anger. The betrayal he sensed in her halting whisper. "What's wrong with making a home with me?" he asked softly.

"Nothing—"

"We love each other. Shit, we should have done this ages ago. I should have been the one you took that leap with in the first place, Nic."

He sounded desperate to his own ears. She was biting her lip so hard he feared she'd shred the skin.

"I—I wanted that, too. But it's not that simple, Gabriel. You know it's not.”

"Why not? Why can't it be—"

"You know why..."

He looked away from her, shaking his head as his breath grew shallow.

"I don't know what to say. I don't know how to fix this," she went on. He closed his eyes when her voice cracked. "He's home right now and I know he's worried." His accusing gaze snapped up to take in her face, but she was unable to look him in the eye. “I came here to end this and I just ended up... shit!" She flopped down into the chair in front of his desk, hunched in on herself and whispering loud enough for him to hear. "What the fuck am I doing?!"

She ran her hands through her hair as if she wanted to pull it up from the roots, and this time her eyes did well up.

"You regret it," he managed through gritted teeth. Waves of heat were flushing his face. He might start sweating any second. He might burst into flames.

"No," she whispered. She shook her head over and over. She looked as dazed as he felt. "I know I should. I should hate myself. I just didn't mean for this to happen and now... I just..."

Gabriel didn't say anything as he threw back the covers and swung his feet over the side of the bed. His back was facing her, because he couldn't bring himself to look at her anymore. After how long it had taken him to get back to this place, it was a tragic irony that he couldn't stand to look at her. When he closed his eyes he could see vividly what had transpired mere hours before. He could still feel himself sliding in and out of her body, kissing her until his lips were sore. And she was saying in the only way she could that she wished it hadn't happened. After all this, Travis was still looming over them, waiting to tear them apart.

That wasn't fair, of course. It wasn't
Travis
who had torn them apart. Travis had just been there to pick up the pieces when he walked away. This was his own fault. And he didn't deserve to be mad, not when he'd promised Nicole he would never let her feel the way she was feeling right now.

But then... she wouldn't feel that way, if she was planning to stay the way he thought she would.

"I—I just need a little time to think about what to do. What to say... I just need some time..."

He stood up. His chest ached. He knew she was staring at him. He could almost feel her eyes trailing his body, but this time he wouldn't give into that need. He grabbed his jeans off the floor and slid them on, cutting off the head of temptation before he turned around to face her.

"I guess there's nothing left to talk about then," he said quietly. It was quite convincing, the stony gaze and the dead voice. Only the slightest tremor was giving away the typhoon of emotions swirling through him.

He walked past her, out of the bedroom. He heard the scrape of the chair on the floor and her footsteps as she followed him.

"Please don't be mad, Gabe. I didn't do this to hurt you..."

He shoved shaking fingers through his hair, that same hand trailing down his weary face. "I know. I didn't want to hurt you either, Nic. I never, ever did..."

He turned to face her and wished he hadn't. She looked lost and small, with her arms wrapped around her, hair disheveled and her face streaked with tears. God, he wanted to go to her. He wanted to pull her to him and wipe her tears away. He wanted to force this to be right again. It used to be so easy, so good between them. Why did that feel like a lifetime ago, where everything could be fixed with a kiss?

When did this become unfixable?

The truth was plain to see. There was no going back. There was only forward.

"I'm gonna do what I should have done a long time ago," he said finally. "I'm going to be the grownup here."

She took a wobbly step forward and he took another back, shaking his head.

"You were right. Friends, or more than friends, it doesn't matter. It's not going to work."