Page 94 of Breaking Hollywood

“It was better than amazing. It was out of this world. It was astro-fucking-nomical.”

She laughs softly. I hold her closer.

“We should clean up.”

“Not yet,” I tell her. “We’ll clean up in a minute.”

I’m feeling lazy, but the truth is, I’m not ready to let her go just yet. And this isn’t like me. Normally, the instant I come, I can’t wait to get out of bed and get my pants back on.

Wanting to stay inside her and hold her in my arms like this is a completely new experience for me, and I want to savor it. I want to savor her.

And, when she doesn’t pull away, instead letting out a sound of contentment, snuggling deeper into me, it lights up the dark parts inside me.

It’s then when I realize just how truly fucked I am.

Because I like Ava. Quite possibly too much.

And she’s far too good for someone as fucked up as me.

But, right now, the selfish part of me doesn’t care. The selfish part of me wants to take every good thing she gives me, and I want to give her every good thing back in return.

I want to make her happy.

I just don’t know if, or for how long, I’m capable of doing so before I wreck things and end up hurting her—again.

Ava

I wake, and I’m alone. Gabe’s side of the bed is empty.

I have a flashback to yesterday morning, and my stomach sinks.

What if he regrets having sex with me?

It’s still dark out. I check the clock, and it says one a.m.

I sit up and slide my legs out of bed. Gucci lifts her head from the chair she’s sleeping on.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” I tell her.

She lays her head back down. I get to my feet and pull my panties on, and then I get one of Gabe’s T-shirts from his chest of drawers. I pull it on and go to find him.

He’s out on the terrace, smoking. His chest is bare, and he’s still wearing the shorts from last night.

“Hi.” I linger in the doorway.

“Hey.” A smile lightens his face, and a weight lifts off my chest.

I pad over to him. He reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me down onto the sun lounger with him. He drops his good leg to the floor, so I can sit between his legs.

His free arm wraps around my waist. I slide my hand over his, and he links our fingers.

I rest my head back on his chest. I can feel his heart beating against my back.

The smell of his cigarette smoke surrounds us, but it doesn’t bother me like it used to. In fact, I’m growing to like the smell. Because it’s him.

“You couldn’t sleep?” I ask him.

“No.” He takes a pull on his cigarette and blows the smoke away from me.