AllFreeNovel
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Messages flood in. My mother is distraught—my father is the love of her life, how could he leave her for some French socialite? Probably, I want to type back, the same way she left him for a concert pianist six months ago.
Dad flew me to Europe for Christmas, just after she left, for a ski holiday with his twenty-two-year-old Swiss girlfriend. The whole point was so I’d video call my mother to complain while they made out in the background. Oh, and I had to compare the girlfriend to a younger, prettier version of my mother’s sister.
It worked. My mother flew over, they fought, then they got back together and took off for Bali. Not before I stole my father’s girlfriend though. Checking that box off my list was fun. I’ve already stolen two of my mother’s boyfriends.
That was the whole reason I missed my shot at Nic over Christmas. Although I’m happy with how things have turned out.
My mother’s texts continue. Has he reached out to me yet? Have I spoken to him? Can I call him, and let him know that she’s miserable and so close to doing something they’ll both regret?
It’s never just “tell your father” with her though. She’ll want me to comfort her, to help her with her schemes. To use me to inflict whatever emotional damage she can on him.
And he’s worse. He’ll take it, laugh it off, convince me she’s using me (to be fair, she is), but that he’s the one who really loves me. He’ll give me a car or jewelry and send me back to her, where I’ll discover that he gave me the things he promised her. That he’s better at using me than she is.
The bribe comes in her next message: a trip to Italy and a stay at a villa in Portofino.
I used to take those bribes, milk every breakup for what I could get, and convert what I could into cash to stash for the fallow periods when they’d inevitably get together again and forget about me.
But lately, or maybe sinceLove on the Line, I don’t want to deal with my parents. These texts from my mother are exhausting and relentless, little hooks trying to pull me into a life I can’t escape and all at once I’m sad. Angry, too, at the person they helped make me.
I don’t know if there’s a way out, but right now, Gabe is waiting for me by the pool and he cares more about me than what I can do for him. I turn off my phone and slip into my white bikini, thinking of what he did with it in the shower. The fabric feels alive against my skin as I walk through his house and out to the pool.
Gabe is already in the water, swimming laps in those blue trunks. He must be watching for me, because the moment I step onto the sun-warmed stone pavers, he comes for me. I’m powerless to move as I watch him emerge, water sluicing off the hard planes of his body. I forget everything—my job situation, my parents, all of it. His eyes are locked on me and I have no clue what he’s going to do when he reaches me and it sends a thrill zipping over my body.
He climbs the steps and in two long strides, he has one dripping hand at the back of my neck and the other on my ass, holding me tight to him. He’s wet and cold, but when he kisses me, his mouth is hot.
“You’re going to kill me,” he murmurs, his hand slipping under the thin strip of fabric between my ass cheeks.
I rub my hips against his. “Remembering how this bikini felt wrapped around your dick?”
“Christ, Ash.” Gabe scoops me up, turns, and carries me into the pool. His mouth finds mine again as he carries me out deeper.
My heart is pounding as the water reaches my feet, then calves, the jolt of cold turning refreshingly cool as it closes over my ass, then knees, then my stomach. He sets me down, and the water reaches up to my nipples, which his knuckles brush over.
A little shiver races down my spine at the sensation.
“Ready for your first lesson?”
I laugh, taken aback. “You’re going to teach me how to swim?”
“More like how not to drown,” he says, his eyes still on his hands as he toys with my bikini top before leaning down to kiss me.
Eventually, we stop kissing and move to waist-deep water, and Gabe teaches me to float on my back. It takes a while. I trust him with my body but I don’t trust that I can float, so I rocket to my feet, screaming and flailing, the moment his hands leave me.
He’s patient, though, lying me back on the top of the water, one hand supporting me between my shoulders, the other skating from my collarbone to navel before sliding underwater to cup my ass so I can bring my legs up. “That’s it. Relax,” he says softly. “Arch your back a bit more…there. I’ve got you.”
I blow out a deep breath and this time, when his hands ease off my body, I stay perfectly still. I don’t sink.
“I’m doing it,” I whisper in awe. “I’m floating.”
“Yeah, baby. You are.”
The pride in his voice warms me, and I smile.
“Doggy paddle next,” he says.
I whip my head up, flail until my feet touch the bottom, and stand. “Doggy style?” I ask innocently.
Gabe growls and tackles me and I shriek, but he’s careful with me. He doesn’t dunk me or pull me under or even splash me. My legs end up wrapped around him and I cling to his neck as he walks us into deeper water. He’s already hard and I take advantage, rocking my hips against him.
