Page 39 of Forever Mine

“So?”

“When this ends, everything will be awkward. I don’t want that.”

“Who says it has to end?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” I’m honestly confused.

“Querida, I’m not asking for a quickie. This isn’t a one-time thing for me.”

I stare at him in shock.

“I don’t understand,” I tell him. He takes two steps forward and reaches up to cup my cheek.

“Are you done with the boyfriend?” he asks softly, and I nod. “Then there’s no reason we can’t be together.”

“What?” I shout. “Together?Togethertogether? Like, together?”

“Yeah,querida. No matter how you say the word, yeah. I want us to be together.”

“This is too much. I don’t understand … I just told Marcus I didn’t want to date him, and now you’re telling me you want me, and he’s still texting me. I’m just really confused, and I don’t know how to process this,” I tell him, refusing to make eye contact.

“Querida, look at me,” he demands. He’s still holding my cheek, and my eyes slowly rise to his. “I’m not him. I don’t sleep around. I’m not interested in one-night stands. I’m forty-five years old. I know what I want. I may not be a lot of things, but one thing I am is patient. I’m not going anywhere. You need time to process what I’ve told you? Fine. I’ll wait. I think you’re worth the wait,querida.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Can I stay and watch tv with you, or would you feel more comfortable if I left you alone?” Gabriel asks quietly. I’m not even sure if he realizes his hand has slowly slid down to cup the side of my neck. The pressure he applies is soft yet demanding. His hand holds me with dominance and care. I’m turned on by the simplicity of his hand against my neck.

“You can stay,” I whisper. Gabriel leans forward and kisses my lips softly but quickly. I gasp as the zing of sensation ricochets through my body.

“Eat your dinner,querida. We can find something to watch,” Gabriel says as he lets go of my neck and sits to take off his shoes. Gabriel is dressed in nice jeans, a button-down shirt, and a sports coat. His casual loafers complete the outfit. He appears professional but approachable, powerful, and confident. It’s such a fucking turn-on. He heads into the bathroom as I take my food and get situated on the bed.

I’m unprepared for him to walk out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. I’ve seen his chest. Hell, I’ve woken up with my face plastered to it. But watching as his muscles flex across his pecs and onto his back? Holy hell. I can’t take my eyes off him. He roots around in his suitcase for a shirt but takes his time putting it on. Gabriel is putting on one hell of a performance for me, and I’m unabashedly enjoying the show.

We settle on an old episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Grey’s is one of my favorite shows, even though I’m scared of needles, and the thought of cleaning up any sort of bodily excrement makes me feel nauseated. I have a good chunk of the series memorized, so at this moment, I’m much more focused on Gabriel. His proximity on the bed. His scent. The way his breathing calms me. I keep looking at his hands and imagining them trailing across my skin. I find myself sinking into the mattress toward him and don’t object when his arm comes around me and pulls me toward him. My head falls to his shoulder as I breathe him in. I close my eyes and surrender to my dreams.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Gabriel

I wake up in a great mood.

I held Monica all night. She fell asleep, cuddled against me, and it was the best night of my life. I’ve never felt so complete, so right. This girl is everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and I need to convince her to give me a chance.

Monica sighs in her sleep as she subconsciously presses her ass against my groin, making me let out a low groan. I’m spooning her with my arm around her, my hand pressed tightly against her stomach. I can’t help but lean forward and press my nose against her neck. She smells like roses. It must be her shampoo or body wash. It’s intoxicating. I press my lips lightly to her neck, and she whimpers in her sleep. Monica suddenly turns and cuddles into my chest, throwing one leg over my legs. She shimmies until she gets into just the right position where my cock is pushed against her heat. I’m so fucking hard. I’m surprised my dick isn’t breaking through the fabric of my boxer briefs. Monica sighs again and slides an arm around to squeeze me. She’s still asleep, and I’m about to come in my pants like a teenager.

As I’m trying to recite multiplication tables in English and Portuguese in an attempt to settle myself down, Monica moans.

“Querida,” I whisper, trying to see if she’s awake. She mumbles incoherently as her hips jut forward. I let out a guttural growl as my cock makes contact with her pussy through our clothes. Only two thin layers stand between us and exquisite pleasure. I’m having a difficult time keeping my composure.

“Gabriel, right there, don’t stop …” she moans. “Your tongue …”

Holy shit. She’s having a sex dream about me. Her hips begin to gyrate as she finds a rhythm.

“Fucking hell, baby,” I mutter. God, this woman unravels me.

Monica’s hips move faster as she races toward her orgasm. I’m captivated by her face. Even asleep, she’s spectacular. I make the mistake of cupping her cheek and feel the moment she wakes up. She immediately stops moving, and her entire body stiffens.

“Oh my God,” she whispers.

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