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He kisses the tip of my nose and smiles at me. “Thank you.”
I mirror his smile, blushing hotly when his fingers delve lower until they brush my mound. “Gabriel…”
His gaze is locked on mine. “Tell me what you need, angel.”
“You,” I breathe, my chest rising and falling a little quicker now. “Just… you.”
He holds my gaze as he pushes two fingers inside me, stealing the breath from my lungs when he curls them and rubs my clit with his thumb. “Relax,” he murmurs, and I breathe out slowly, forcing my muscles to unclench. “That’s it.”
I open my legs as wide as I can in the tub and moan. “Why do I get the feeling this is a distraction for you as much as it is for me?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he says, picking up the pace as he leans in and presses his lips to the side of my neck.
I tilt my head slightly, an invitation, but he just keeps kissing and sucking playfully. “I do, though,” I murmur, and while my motive for the conversation isn’t that, I do still care about him. I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is another moan when he hits a sensitive spot. He grins against my skin, his tongue darting out to flick along my neck as he rubs that same spot over and over, driving me to new heights of pleasure, to the point I almost forget what I’m trying to do.
“I just don’t like seeing you upset,” I say in a quiet voice, arching my hips to push his fingers deeper.
He circles my clit with his thumb, again increasing the speed of his fingers. “Calla—”
I’m close. My nerves are vibrating with energy, and the pressure building between my legs is going to explode any second.
“Does it have to do with me being here? With all the secrets?”
Gabriel pulls away from my neck, and his fingers still inside of me. “What?” His eyes search my face, and I fight the urge to look away, as if I’ve been caught doing something wrong.
“I…”
He pulls his fingers out and shifts back. “What are you asking me? Truly?” His forehead is creased and his jaw is set tight. I don’t like this look on him. Even more, I don’t like that I’m the reason he’s looking at me like that.
“N-nothing. I want to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been looking out for me, and—”
“And you thought I would share the information you haven’t been able to gather on your own.”
“No,” I lie, “I… Never mind.”
Silence stretches between us, and I no longer feel all warm and fuzzy. I cross my arms to cover my breasts, wanting to get out of the water.
“What do you want to know?” His voice is low, flat. It’s not unkind, but it also doesn’t hold its usual warmth that I’ve grown accustomed to and that has been known to bring me comfort.
I glance around the luxurious space, biting the inside of my cheek. This could be my only opportunity to get some information, but the way he’s looking at me has made me unable to grasp the questions I want to ask.
Gabriel exhales heavily and stands. “Next time you want to use me, I’d prefer you be upfront about it.” He walks out of the bathroom without another word, and I’m equal parts shocked and embarrassed at the sting of tears in my eyes.
* * *
After the epic failure that left me without answers, I’m glad to be on campus all day. Between back-to-back classes and a study session after lunch, my day is full of normal, human things. Time away from the house—and the guys—will do me good. I need to clear my head and refocus so I can make a plan—abetterplan than last night—to figure this shit out.
Brighton meets me at the coffee cart we frequent on campus in between my second lecture and our study session. We’re in different programs but find that studying together keeps us both focused better. We deemed this particular coffee cart as our favorite last year. It’s cheaper than Starbucks and pretty much tastes the same. Plus, it’s right on campus, so it gets extra points for easy access.
“I got your favorite,” she says cheerily, holding up a black paper cup.
I shoot her a grin as I reach for the peppermint mocha and take a sip, sighing in content as warmth floods through me. “This is why I love you.”
She snorts, tossing her strawberry blond waves over her shoulder, and takes a drink from her iced latte. Brighton is of the opinion that iced coffee is for all year round, even if there’s snow on the ground, which we’re not far past. She’s bundled up in an emerald peacoat with rosy cheeks from the cold wind, but even still, you won’t see her ordering a hot latte. “How was class?” she asks.
I shrug as we start walking along the cobblestone path toward the campus library. “Same old,” I tell her, feeling a little uncomfortable chatting normally after what happened yesterday. She doesn’t remember, of course, but I do.
Brighton nods. “Oh hey, sorry I had to miss brunch yesterday. I had the worst headache when I got up.”
