Page 52 of This Thing of Ours

Bobby raised a brow. “Things?”

Marco wasn’t sure how to explain. Gabriella and his history was complicated. Well, complicated if he couldn’t include all the Family details. He had a feeling Bobby suspected what he did, but they’ve never acknowledged it. Marco wanted to keep it that way.

“I’m close with her family. Something happened to her recently, and I just found out tonight that the something was not good.”

Bobby took a minute to ponder that before he said, “Seems to me, something that would upset you so much would upset her doubly so.”

Marco’s mind instantly conjured the picture of Gabriella as he’d walked out the door, and her look of confusion and even a little hurt that she couldn’t completely mask behind a blank expression. His stomach dipped as a pang of remorse for leaving her in that condition finally penetrated the fog of anger he’d been shrouded in.

He shouldn’t have left her alone, especially so late at night. He was an idiot.

“Ah, I see the light has dawned,” Bobby cackled. He taped the last piece of gauze to his tattered knuckles and slapped his shoulder. “Go to her, boy.”

Standing, Marco dipped his head in gratitude and left to do just that.

One hand onthe railing, one foot planted on the bottom step, Marco fixed his gaze at the top of the stairs. He could just make out Gabriella’s silhouette. She was lying on her side, back facing him, buried under a pile of covers. She looked peaceful, and he knew the right thing would be not to disturb her, but he found himself taking a step up anyway.

Then another.

Soon he’d reached the top.

He’d showered at the gym, so he stripped down to his boxers, uncharacteristically throwing his clothes carelessly on the floor, which he didn’t think twice about as he slid under the covers. Wrapping an arm around Gabriella’s middle, he pulled her to him until she was flush against his chest.

She stiffened. “You’re home.”

He grunted, burying his face in her hair and breathing in the floral scent.

“I was worried.”

His hand dipped under the hem of her t-shirt, and he rubbed small circles over the soft, warm skin of her stomach.

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

He nosed the hair covering her neck away so his lips could have access. Her skin was soft and warm there, as well.

“I left a message and a text.”

He parted his lips and sucked a bit into his mouth before lightly biting down. She tasted better than she smelled.

“Are you planning on answering me?”

He heard the edge to her voice. Knew she was angry and knew he needed to apologize. “I’m sorry.” Mouth still busy, his words came out muffled.

“Sorry’s not an answer. Hell, it’s not even a crappy excuse.”

He raised his head, talking to her profile. “Told you, I needed to blow off steam. I was at the gym.”

She snorted as if she didn’t believe him.

“My phone was in my locker. Got your message and your text, but it was late and figured you’d be asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” He pressed his body closer, and the hand on her stomach dipped lower to tease along the edge of her panties.

She grabbed his wrist. “We’re not having sex. I’m still mad at you.”

He buried his face in her neck again and mumbled, “I’m trying to apologize so you’re no longer mad and we can have make-up sex. I’ve heard it’s quite enjoyable.”

When she flipped around to face him, she lost her grip on his wrist, and he took advantage of the freedom, moving his hand to her hip.

She got up on an elbow. “You’ve heard? So, you don’t know?”

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