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Chapter Nineteen
- Suzanne -
Some weeks, I countedthe days between his phone calls. For others, I counted the hours. Our time in Rockefeller Center, though brief, was only what I would call in the most sentimental language I could manage - magical. Especially since we didn’t leave the hotel room after checking in. I could still feel the heat on my cheeks as I thought about that afternoon in the bedroom, that evening in front of the windows, and I lost track of how many more times Gabriel owned me throughout the course of the night.
Gabriel had been insatiable, and I didn’t mind in the least.
I’m only partially ashamed to admit I had a bit of soreness on Sunday, making it more difficult than usual to climb the stairs once we made it back to my apartment. I thought I’d hidden it from him, but Gabriel caught me wincing when I took my first step onto the second landing. Gabriel put out his hand to help me, but I blushed with embarrassment and pushed his hand away - a gesture he apparently didn’t like.
He growled, scooped me up from behind, and carried me the remainder of the flight, down the hall, past Mrs. Beaulieu, my somewhat eccentric neighbor on the right. My overnight bag dangled over my arm, bounced around, and nearly hit her as Gabriel carried me down the hall as if doing so was as commonplace on a Sunday morning as getting the newspaper or putting the dog out.
I thought she would have been shocked by such a display, but Mrs. Beaulieu was a die-hard New Yorker, born and raised. She barely lifted her head as we went by, but I couldn’t hold back the giggles. We stopped in front of my door and Gabriel finally released me – slowly, so that I rubbed against his body all the way down until my feet hit the floor.
But he didn’t let me go. Instead, he loomed over me, caging me against my apartment door.
“You’re always laughing,” he said, nuzzling the top of my head. “I love the way you laugh.”
I ran my hands up the front of his leather jacket, reluctant to be away from his body for very long. I’d gotten used to being in constant contact with that muscled chest of his - and a few other parts as well.
“Stick around. I laugh a lot.” Would he balk at the invitation I so blatantly offered?
“I intend to,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss against my forehead, but when our eyes met, regret shadowed his features. His voice dropped to that whispery level that made my insides curl. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back here, Suzanne. I don’t want you to think I’m just playing around. You know I don’t live in New York. I can’t promise I’ll be able to-”
I pressed a finger over his lips. “I haven’t asked you to promise me anything. I would very much like to see you again when we can...if that’s what you want, too?”
Was I being a doormat? Was he so hot that I practically gave him permission to walk all over me, or was I just the most understanding girl in the world and he didn’t deserve me? Only time would answer those questions.
But I had time. Lots of it.
“It is what I want.” He leaned down and left a soft, convincing kiss on my mouth.
We looked into each other’s eyes like two star-crossed lovers in a romantic play until Gabriel lowered his head and ran his lips across mine again.
“When we can,” he whispered tenderly. “I’ll call you.”
Another kiss, so sweet my heart melted. I didn’t know whether to let him go or hang on and try to stop him from leaving.
Gabriel made the answer for me when he straightened his back and took a step away. “Goodbye.”
I stayed in the hallway and watched him walk away, my stomach suddenly hurting while my heart already began to miss him.
“Be good!” I yelled after him.
I heard him chuckle as he started his descent down the stairs.
Gabriel’s first call was around seven pm that night. A very brief one. He said he had an online conference with a business partner overseas, so he couldn’t talk long.
“I was thinking about you,” he said. “I wanted to see how you were feeling.”
I scraped the last of the minute rice onto my plate. “I feel fine,” I replied as the heat rose in my cheeks. I knew he was referring to how I physically felt. The soreness hadn’t completely abated. Part of me would be sad when it did. I liked having the small aches as a reminder of the man who had caused them. “A little lonely without you.”
He was quiet. Maybe I admitted too much? Comments like that probably put pressure on him, which was exactly what I told him I wouldn’t do.
“Still sore?”
How could that husky voice make me blush so deeply all the way from a completely different state?
“It’s better if I keep moving.”
