Page 46 of Forever Mine

“Querida, wake up. You’re okay. It’s just a bad dream. Baby, please …” Gabriel says.

I awake with a jolt. The room has darkened as the sun is setting, meaning I’ve been asleep for a few hours. I find myself in Gabriel’s lap as he rubs my spine softly.

“I’m okay,” I whisper.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“I think so. How did you know I had a bad dream?” I ask.

“You started screaming. I could hear you downstairs.”

“Well, that’s not embarrassing at all,” I joke.

“You’ve had a traumatic experience. It’s to be expected. I’d be more concerned if you didn’t have any nightmares and could move forward without issue,” Gabriel says. “I made some pasta. Would you like to come downstairs and eat?”

My stomach growls in answer, and Gabriel chuckles. I was discharged from the hospital right before lunch, so I haven’t eaten since they served me a less-than-stellar breakfast early this morning.

I gingerly slide off Gabriel’s lap and stand up. I’m slightly lightheaded. Gabriel’s arms curl around me as I sway and catch my breath.

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly.

We walk slowly down the stairs, Gabriel’s arms never leaving me. His embrace has become so comforting I’m like an addict wanting more. I feel cherished in his arms.

We walk into the kitchen, and he pulls out a bar stool for me, then goes to plate the pasta. Gabriel returns with a plate full of pasta, garlic bread, and salad.

“Wow, this is quite the spread,” I comment.

“I was bored,” he says with a crooked smile. I giggle as I swirl the pasta around my fork and bring it to my mouth. The amazing flavors burst on my tongue, and I moan blissfully.

“Holy shit, Gabriel. This is amazing,” I tell him.

“One of my soldiers a few years ago taught me how to make the best Italian spaghetti sauce. He learned from his grandmother. I’ve deviated slightly from their recipe, but it’s my favorite thing to make when I have a few hours to let it simmer,” Gabriel explains.

“Did you use ground beef or ground pork?” I ask through a mouthful of pasta. I’m inhaling this. I didn’t realize how famished I was.

“Ground pork. I know you can tell the difference,querida, so I don’t know why you asked,” he teases. I giggle in response. He’s right. Most Italians use a variety of meats in a bolognese sauce. It’s never just beef.

“Are you going to eat?” I ask.

“I will. I’m just enjoying watching you. Do you know you hum when you’re enjoying a meal? You make the cutest little sounds,” he tells me with a small smile.

“I do?” I ask, and he nods. “I didn’t realize that.” I try to eat quietly, focusing on not making any noise.

“Don’t do that. Relish in the food,querida. Enjoy it. It’s a tremendous compliment to me that you love this. Make the noises. Live in the moment.” Gabriel stares at me, his eyebrow cocked. He’s ready for me to hum, evidently.

“I’m not gonna do it on command,” I blurt out, which makes Gabriel throw back his head as he laughs. His eyes twinkle with mischief and tenderness when he looks back at me. “Please eat. You’re making me nervous.”

“Okay,querida. I’ll eat, too,” Gabriel says.

After dinner, Gabriel asks if I’d like to watch a movie. After my afternoon nap, I’m not even remotely tired, so we head into the family room to pick a movie.

“The sides of the couches recline, and there’s a massage feature,” Gabriel comments.

“It massages?” I exclaim with glee.

“Buttons on the side. The top is for the headrest, the middle is the massage, and the bottom is recline.”

I immediately start messing with the buttons and giggling with glee. Once I’m fully reclined, I turn on the massage feature and let out a low moan. I must have moaned louder than I thought because Gabriel clears his throat.

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