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“You really think she’ll recover enough to live on her own?” I ask uncertainly.
“Have a little faith, baby,” he urges gently, kissing my temple. “For now, let’s go home and rest up. Maybe later, if you’re feeling up for it, I’ll take you out on a date.”
I raise an eyebrow. “A date, huh?”
He grins. “Well it has been far too long since I properly wined and dined my girl.”
I let out a little huff. “You’ve never taken me out on an actual date before, Decker.”
He laughs. “Oh, I did several times. I just never told you we were on one.”
My eyes go wide with realization. “Wait, those dinners . . . the movies . . . the times you came over to my studio and cooked?”
He nods.
“I wish you had told me how you felt then,” I confess with a small sigh.
Gabe puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him. “It’s one of my biggest regrets, all that wasted time.” He kisses the top of my head.
“Even without the title, you were a dreamy boyfriend,” I confess.
“Only for you,” he says. “Always for you, baby.”
“Take me home, Gabe. I might not be in the mood for a date, but I definitely need you to make love to me.”
He grins and winks. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ameline
As he closes the door behind us, he turns to face me, his blue eyes darken with a hunger that makes me crave him. He reaches for the hem of my shirt, slowly lifting it over my head, his fingers skimming my skin as he goes. I shiver, goose bumps rising on my arms. He leans in, pressing his lips to my collarbone, his breath warm against my skin.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. I feel a flutter in my chest, my heart pounding in my ears. He unclasps my bra, letting it fall to the floor, and I feel a rush of desire run through my blood. “So fucking beautiful.”
He continues to undress me, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s unwrapping a precious gift. With each piece of clothing that falls away, I feel a little more exposed, a little more open. And with each kiss, each touch, I feel a little more alive.
When I’m standing before him in nothing but my panties, he takes a step back, his eyes raking over my body. I feel a blush creep up my cheeks, but I don’t look away. I hold his gaze, letting him see me—all of me.
“Sit,” he commands, his voice firm but gentle. I do as he says, sinking onto the plush couch, my heart still racing. He kneels before me, his hands on my knees, and I can feel the heat of his touch through the fabric of my panties.
He looks up at me, his eyes full of desire, and I know what’s coming. But instead of feeling afraid, or anxious, I feel a sense of anticipation, of excitement. I trust him, and I want this, want him.
He leans in, and I close my eyes, surrendering to the moment. I feel his breath against my skin, warm and steady, as he kneels before me. His hands are gentle on my thighs, his touch igniting a fire within my core.
The moment I feel him shift, and his lips are on my pussy, my eyes close. I gasp, my back arching off the couch, my hands instinctively reaching for his hair. He slowly slides a finger inside me as his teeth nibble my clit.
I moan, my breathing ragged, my body trembling. I feel like I’m going to explode, like I’m about to shatter into a million pieces.
“Gabe,” I moan and my body begins to shake, my breath is catching in my throat, but suddenly there’s an unexpected tightness gripping me.
I rise up when a wave of nausea overwhelms me, intense and unyielding. My stomach churns violently, a hot, sour sensation surging up my esophagus. The taste in my mouth is acrid, unbearable. My face contorts in distress, my eyes widening in shock and discomfort. There’s no time to react or move away. My lunch violently spews, splattering onto the floor.
The force of the vomit leaves me trembling, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I gasp for air, my mind spinning, struggling to comprehend what happened.
“Ame, baby,” Gabe’s voice cuts through my haze, grounding me. He’s right in front of me now, hastily taking off his t-shirt and draping it over my shoulders. His eyes are filled with concern. “Describe what you’re feeling, what’s happening?”
“The room seems to be spinning around me,” I whisper.
