This time, she didn’t fight her tears.
McKenna
Once we’re back at Gabe’s apartment, he unlocks the door and holds it open for me. “I need to go and check on the pub,” he says, staying outside. “Would you like to come with me?”
I turn back to him, facing down that loaded question. “That’s a question I don’t think I can answer alone.”
He watches me a minute, eyes searching mine. “I’m not opposed to any of the team knowing we’re dating if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says.
“I’m not worried about that either,” I tell him.
“Then the problem is . . . ?”
I hesitate, trying to decide how honest to be, but then decide I can’t muck this up being any other way. “Here’s the thing, I can’t romanticize life. I’m a realist, and I don’t think the road ahead of us is black or white.”
He leans against the open doorframe, crossing his arms. “Meaning?”
It’s easy to get lost in how intimidating he looks, but I push on, needing to get this out. “I mean that as much as I want and hope that all this is going to work out between us and at the end we’ll be standing here happy and unscathed—”
“Life is never that easy,” he finishes for me.
I give him a small smile that I’m sure looks a little sad. “It’s not the way my life has been.” I move toward him and slide my hands up his arms, feeling the tension simmering beneath the surface of his muscles. “There’s a lot stacked against us that I’m aware of. Are you?”
His eyes search mine then he gives a soft nod. “I’m aware of the challenges we face.”
The biggest of which is my brother. Even if we find Evan, it all depends on my brother’s reasoning for why he did what he did, that will determine how things will turn out between Gabe and I. If Evan doesn’t own up to what he’s done, Gabe can’t forgive him, and then I’ll be left to choose. I know, and I see that Gabe knows, too, I will choose Evan, not out of love but because he’s my family. Because I know where we’ve come from. Because I understand addiction. Because he is my brother.
Gabe and I will forever have that tension between us, and no relationship can survive that. But if Evan does what I hope he does and rights his wrongs, this won’t be the case. Gabe can see that Evan isn’t all bad, and we can move on.
“So,” Gabe says, drawing me out of my thoughts, and tucking my hair behind my ear. “We take this one day at a time; is what you’re saying?”
I nod, rising to my tiptoes and placing a soft kiss on his mouth. “We take this one day at a time.”
“With that decided, I won’t be long,” he says when I back away. “There’re towels in the cabinet in the en suite bathroom if you’d like to take a shower. Last door on the right.”
“Thanks.” I smile, thinking a shower is exactly what I need. I don’t cry often, and my eyes are sore and scratchy.
He doesn’t say anything more, simply turns and trots down the metal staircase. I shut the door behind me and lean against it, exhaling a long breath, exhausted to my very bones. At this point, I’m not sure what’s worse, the emotional battle inside or the physical toll it’s all taking on my body.
Determined to feel a little more like myself, I move swiftly down the hall and enter his bedroom, still loving that his room is a mix between modern and rustic, with a king-size bed against a wall of dark-stained plank wood and hardwood floors to match. The duvet on the bed is black with two pillows and not a decoration in sight. Simple. Masculine. Sexy. This room is all Gabe.
I move past the large dresser and walk-in closet to the right. I skip that and enter the door to the left, and momentarily, I’m stunned again by the rustic elegance. A stone wall rests behind a freestanding tub, and to the right of that is a large shower stall. On the left side of the grand bathroom is a cabinet made of old barn wood, with beige wall lamps and a sleek chrome faucet. All of which is gorgeous and stunning but my attention returns to the shower, and I strip, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor.
When I pass by the frosted glass wall separating the shower from the main bathroom, I quickly turn on the water. In an instant, it’s coming from the stone wall more like a waterfall than my crappy showerhead at home. “Good God, I’ve found utopia,” I say to myself.
I press my hands against the stone allowing the warm water to hit my shoulders and run along my back. And I don’t move, not a single inch, as I’m convinced this shower is equivalent to a massage. All the tension, all the worry and pain and everything else was comforted by Gabe when I cried in his arms, but now there’s just nothing but much needed quiet.
I’m not exactly sure how long has passed when firm hands slide across my hips running over my stomach. I smile, lifting my head from beneath the stream. The warm water rushes on my chest as Gabe’s lips press against my shoulder, kissing the tender flesh there. His hands come to my breasts and he’s massaging them, a touch more for himself than for me, I’m sure. Nonetheless, I’m melting beneath his hands when his erection presses against my bottom.
“You’re hard,” I say softly.
He chuckles deep in my ear. “I happen to like you wet.”
I shiver at the throaty promise in his voice. He turns me around then, putting himself more under the water than I am, and he grabs the shampoo bottle. He squeezes the bottle, trailing a stream of soap across my breasts. The heat in his eyes as he drops the bottle to run his hands over my breasts, squeezing both, and clearly having his fun, brings a surge of heat hotter than the water falling against us.
The way he’s watching me, caressing me, enjoying me, is all the foreplay I need, as his eyes lift to mine and he grins. “You’re incredibly sexy, Kenna.”
“Believe me,” I say, gazing over his muscular body glistening with the water, “I think you got sexy claimed here.”