Page 56 of Forever & Always You
It’s a blur, the way his groans punctuate mine and our movements spiral out of control, until suddenly we both collapse at the exact same moment. I fall forward onto his chest as pleasure rips through me and Austin’s body involuntarily twitches and jerks.
Breathlessly, he asks, “Did we just—?”
“We did,” I splutter. My heartbeat hammers in my chest and I struggle to catch my breath, my skin scorching hot and damp with sweat from so much exertion.
“Fuck, we’re so synchronized. That’s incredible.”
I remain sprawled over Austin for a few minutes as I recover while he strokes my head and randomly kisses my forehead every now and again, both of us mindlessly watching the movie.I should get cleaned up, but I can’t bring myself to move and ruin the moment. Who knew how nice post-sex cuddles could be?
“Gabby,” Austin says. He skims his fingers delicately over my bare shoulder, his touch electrifying my skin. When I glance up at him in response to my name, his smile is gentle and his eyes warm. “I forgive you.”
My heart stutters, and it’s only just recovered. I lift my head from his chest to look at him properly, studying that warmth in his blue eyes to suss out how genuine this declaration is. His face is still flushed with color and I worry he’s just in an orgasmic daze.
“I don’t want you to forgive me just because I’m a master at giving you head,” I say.
Austin laughs. “Youare,” he says, moving his hand to my face as the laughter settles into sincerity, “but I think I forgave you a while ago. Maybe it was that mischievous look in your eyes when you smothered your pancakes in maple syrup. Maybe it was when you cried over the dogs in the shelter. Maybe it was when you promised me you wouldn’t break my heart again.” He stares silently into my eyes as his smile falters. “But I forgive you, Gabrielle.”
“You do?”
“I do,” he confirms with a nod. He tilts my jaw up, moving his lips toward mine, but I well up into tears before he even has the chance to kiss me. “Gabby! This is good. You don’t need to cry.”
I laugh through the tears, because I honestly can’t fight them. The relief spreading through my body is too overwhelming. That first day I walked into Austin’s office, it seemed like there was no hope at all of forgiveness.
“It means so much to me that you gave me a second chance, Austin.”
He swipes away my tears with his thumb. “If I didn’t give you a second chance then I’d be missing out on this new tradition ofpancakes on Sundays. By the way, I bought maple syrup.”
And goddamn, the things I’d do to himnow.
19
Austin offering me his guest room to stay in was futile, because I have yet to sleep in any bed in this house other than his. His 6 a.m. alarm sends me groaning into the pillows as he quietly slips out to run a mere eighteen miles, but by the time he returns, I’m wide awake and have water, electrolytes and pancakes waiting for him. We are starting to integrate our lives, working around the other, and I’m enjoying that foundation of partnership solidifying around us.
“I’m dying to know how Zach’s first night with Lily went,” I muse while stacking plates into the dishwasher.
“We should hit the beach today. Invite your brother and his fiancée. Tell them to bring Lily,” Austin suggests, and I waste no time at all reaching for my phone and bullying Zach into agreeing to a beach hang-out.
Being on the coast, we are completely spoiled with gorgeous beaches. Once when we were on the cusp of being teenagers, Austin and I stayed outwaytoo late down at the beach, still traversing the sandy plains long past sunset, and I remember to this very day the lecture my mother gave me that night when my father eventually found Austin and me. I wasn’t in trouble so much for staying out late as I was in trouble for staying out latewithAustin. I also stupidly applied sunscreen to my entire body except my face, so I sported a killer sunburn on my nose for days after, and Austin took a peculiar reaction to the long grass we prowled through and broke out in hives, but we sure did have fun that day.
As we drive to the beach now, I ask, “Do you remember—?”
“That time we stayed out too late at the beach?” Austin finishes.
“And I got sunburn—”
“On your nose.”
“And you were—”
“Seemingly allergic to beachgrass.”
We exchange smiles. It will take a lifetime to unpick all of the memories we shared together as kids, but we have forever to do so. We already know each other inside out, and that skips a thousand steps in the dating process. At least I think we’re dating. Are we?
“Question,” I say.
“Shoot.”
“Are we dating?”
