Page 79 of Vicious Temptation

“I’m just thinking of the best way how.” She tugs her hair free of its ponytail, letting it fall down her back as she runs her fingers through it.

A nervous feeling worms its way through my stomach. “Just say it.”

Her mouth twists as she looks in my direction. “Okay. I know your experiences with men have been awful up to this point. So maybe it’s on Gabriel, that he should know better. But Bel—you’re insane to think that you can do all of this with him, all the way up to losing your virginity, that you’re going to make him all of your firsts, and go through this incredibly emotional process…and then the two of you are just going to walk away from each other?” Clara shakes her head. “I love you, Bel, and I think the world of you, but there’s no way that’s how it plays out. You can’t possibly think that.”

“I do,” I insist, unperturbed by her suspicion. “It’s foolproof.”

Clara lets out a sharp laugh. “How on earth, Bella?”

“Gabriel is a good man. He’s helped me in a bunch of ways that he didn’t have to. He’s involved himself in my problems when he didn’t need to—even when it would have been easier for him to just send me home. And he’s a good man who also doesn’t want to fall in love. So as long as we set our expectations—and we have—he won’t hurt me,” I insist. “We’ll do this together, as friends, and go back to normal when it’s done. When I feel okay enough to try dating someone else.”

Clara shakes her head. “Bel. You’re going to give this next guy an incredibly high bar to clear. And how do you think Gabriel will feel, if you’re still working there, seeing you with some other man? After the two of you have shared this incredibly intimate experience? How do you think this new guy will feel, knowing you’re still living with Gabriel, after that?”

I hadn’t thought of that. I hadn’t really thought about the logistics past Gabriel at all. “Gabriel is the one who told me it can’t be a relationship,” I insist. “So he’s obviously fine with it—with me dating someone else afterward.”

Clara looks at me like I’ve grown a second head, and shakes hers. “I’ll always support you in whatever you do, Bel,” she says gently. “But this isn’t going to end the way you think it will.”

I bite my lip, looking over to where Cecelia and Danny are still playing. “I guess we’ll see.” I lift my camera, leaning forward to take a quick series of pictures of them. I know Gabriel will love having more photos of them. I half-think that’s why he bought me the camera.

I also know that him being on my mind so much is a symptom of exactly what Clara is talking about. What I was warning myself against, just this morning, after I left the gym. She’s right that what we’re doing is intimate and emotional, even more so than normal firsts.

But I trust Gabriel. And I believe that he won’t let me get hurt.

I turn, wanting to take a picture of the landscape of the park on the other side. And as I do, I see someone sitting on a park bench—a man in a suit, with a fedora-style hat tipped low over his forehead.

Something uncomfortable twists in my stomach. It seems like he’s looking straight at us. And that shouldn’t really be a cause for concern—it’s normal to look at other people in a park—but I can’t help thinking that he was there when we first sat down for the picnic. That he’s been sitting there the whole time.

I take a few photos, and when I lower the camera, the man is gone. Something clenches in my chest, a cold, panicky feeling sliding down my spine.

I look around to see where he might have walked off to, but there’s no one. It’s like he was never there, although I saw him clearly.

“Bel? Are you okay?” Clara’s voice jolts me back into reality, and I nod, setting the camera down.

I’m just being paranoid, I tell myself. It was just a man sitting on a bench. Nothing out of the ordinary for Central Park.

But that feeling sticks with me, a cold sense of dread that lingers in my stomach and reminds me, for the rest of the afternoon, that something feels wrong. An instinct that crawls over me periodically, making me look over my shoulder and jump at small sounds—reactions that I thought I was working through.

And even once we’re back home, it doesn’t go away.

24

BELLA

On Saturday, as promised, Gabriel leaves the kids with Agnes for the day to spend the morning and afternoon with me. I see the smirk on Agnes’ face as we get up from the breakfast table, but I try to pretend that it doesn’t mean what I think it does. She can’t possibly know anything about what’s happening between us.

And what is that, exactly? I ask myself as Gabriel goes to collect his keys, and I go upstairs to change, having just thrown on sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt for breakfast after our workout. It’s been two days since that morning in the gym. The morning after, we made it halfway through the workout before I was up against the wall, Gabriel’s mouth on mine, my hands tugging down his workout shorts. I wasn’t ready for him to touch me below the waist yet, so I’d gotten myself off while he stroked himself and came on my stomach again, both of us coming nearly at the same time. And yesterday?—

Yesterday, I still hadn’t been ready to push things further. The thought of Gabriel’s hand between my legs—or anything more—still gave me that panicky, nervous feeling. So instead, he’d kissed me and played with my nipples while I made myself come, waiting until I was finished. And then he’d slipped his cock out and put my hand on it, his hand wrapped around mine as we got him off together.

I was fairly sure that a handjob wasn’t supposed to be as intimate as that had felt. That it shouldn’t have been hot as it was, his gaze holding mine the entire time as our hands had moved together, pushing him closer and closer to the brink, his hand gripping mine as he’d throbbed in my fist and spilled all over my stomach. It had turned me on so much that I’d had to get myself off again in the shower, thinking about him.

This morning, we didn’t even get further than stretches. Gabriel had moved closer to me on the mat, slid his hand into my hair, and kissed me until I was breathless. I’d been ready to fool around again, but he’d stopped, and gotten up from the mat.

“Later,” was all he said, and then we’d gotten back to the workout—although I don’t think I did a very good job. I was far too distracted.

Now, I can’t help but wonder what he meant by later, as I go up to change. I look through my clothes, feeling a quiver of nerves in my stomach.

I want to wear something summery. Something he would like—something I’d wear if this really were a date. It’s not, and I know it’s not—at best, it’s the kind of afternoon date that friends would go on, like an afternoon out with Clara.

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