Chapter 28
PÛ
Lightning illuminates his face, and fuck, when did he start looking so wrecked? So human? So mine?
His hand lifts slowly, like he’s approaching a spooked animal. Smart man-I am basically feral at this point, bleeding knuckles and all. His fingers hover near my face, hesitating.
“If you’re going to touch me, fucking commit to it,” I rasp, my voice still shot from screaming. “Half-measures are what got us here.”
That does it. His palm cups my cheek, thumb brushing over my cheekbone with the kind of gentleness that makes my chest crack open. I lean into it like a touch-starved cat, probably making embarrassing noises but too far gone to care.
“You’re bleeding,” he murmurs, like that’s the most important thing happening right now. “Your hands-Christ, Leo, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking the walls needed redecorating. Very avant-garde. You wouldn’t understand, it’s an artistic expression of existential rage.” My attempt at deflection falls flat when his thumb traces my jaw, leaving fire in its wake. “Besides, physical pain beats the emotional shit by miles. Would recommend.”
“We can’t,” Gabriel whispers, but his body language screams the opposite. He’s leaning in, eyes dark and hungry, restraint hanging by a thread so thin I can practically see it snapping. “This is-Leo, if we do this, there’s no going back. No pretending it didn’t happen. No professional distance to hide behind.”
“We already have,” I breathe, fisting his jacket lapels because my hands need something to do besides shake. “We’ve been doing this for months, just with more clothes and less honesty. So either kiss me or get the fuck out, because I’m done with the between.”
The last word barely leaves my mouth before he’s on me.
Gabriel kisses like he fights-all precision and barely controlled violence. His lips crash into mine with the force of months of pent-up everything, and I meet him with equal desperation. This isn’t soft or sweet or any of those romance novel lies. It’s messy and hungry and tastes like finally.
My back hits the stone wall hard enough to bruise, but who gives a shit when Gabriel’s pressing against me like he wants to crawl inside my skin? One hand cradles my neck, fingers tangled in my hair, while the other grips my waist possessively. Mine are everywhere-under his jacket, fisting his shirt, mapping the muscles I’ve been fantasizing about since that first confrontation in the courtyard.
“Fuck,” I gasp when we break for air, which is apparently optional now. “If I’d known you could kiss like that, I’d have sexually harassed you in the library much earlier.”
“You did sexually harass me in the library,” he growls against my throat, and holy shit, Gabriel
Torres has a dirty sense of humor. Who knew? “Multiple times. Your study technique was basically foreplay with textbooks.”
“Worked, didn’t it?” My laugh turns into a moan when he finds that spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “Though technically, you started it with all that—ah-stalking. Very romantic. Nothing says ‘I want you’ like professional surveillance.”
His teeth graze my skin in retaliation, and my brain short-circuits. “Less talking,” he commands, voice rough enough to strip paint. “We can do a post-mortem analysis of our terrible courtship later.”
“Bossy. I like it. Very sexy abuse of power.” But I shut up, mostly because his mouth is doing things that make words irrelevant.
Gabriel pulls back, breathing like he’s run a marathon. His lips are swollen, hair completely fucked, and he’s never looked more beautiful. “Tell me to stop,” he says, but his hands are still moving, thumbs stroking my hipbones where my shirt’s ridden up. “Tell me this is a terrible idea and we should think about consequences and-”
“Don’t you dare,” I interrupt, probably looking equally wrecked. “Don’t you fucking dare get logical on me now. I’ve had months of your professional distance and careful control and I’m sick of it. You want me to tell you to stop? Make me. Otherwise, shut up and kiss me like you
mean it.”
Something shifts in his expression-the last wall crumbling. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters, but he’s already pulling me back in.
This kiss is different. Slower, deeper, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me. Like maybe he’s been wanting this as desperately as I have. His hands map my body with reverent precision, finding sensitive spots I didn’t know existed, drawing sounds from me that would be embarrassing if I had any shame left.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confesses against my lips, words falling like prayers. “Every day, watching you, protecting you, pretending I didn’t want to-God, Leo, you have no idea what you do to me.’
”
“Pretty sure I have some idea,” I manage, gesturing vaguely at the evidence pressed between us. “Unless that’s a really unfortunate gun placement.”
He laughs-actually laughs, free and genuine-and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. “Even now, you can’t help yourself. Do you ever stop being a smartass?”
“Nope. Package deal. You want the prince, you get the commentary.” I pull him closer, eliminating any remaining space between us. We’re all hands and heat and desperate need, the storm outside matching the one between us. My blood sings, heart hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to escape and merge with his.
His hands slide down to my ass, gripping hard as he grinds his cock against mine, the friction making me see stars. “Fuck, Leo,” he growls, his voice thick with need. “You feel so fucking good.”
“You too,” I gasp, my hands fumbling with his belt. “But I need more. Need you inside me.”
He freezes for a second, his eyes searching mine. “You sure?”
“Positive. Now stop being a gentleman and fuck me already.”
That’s all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he spins me around, pressing my chest against the cold stone wall as he yanks my jeans and boxers down to my knees. His hand slides between my cheeks, fingers teasing my hole, and I can’t help but moan.
“Lube?” he asks, his voice strained.
Gabriel lubricated his fingers with saliva before pressing one inside me. The stretch burns in the best way, and I push back against him, wanting more.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmurs, adding a second finger and scissoring them to stretch me open. “You feel amazing.”
“Less talking, more fucking,” I demand, and he chuckles darkly before removing his fingers and lining up his cock.
The first push is slow, giving me time to adjust, but once he’s fully sheathed inside me, all bets are off. He sets a brutal pace, each thrust driving me harder into the wall, the pain only heightening the pleasure. His hand wraps around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, and it’s all too much.
“Gabriel,” I moan, my voice breaking as I feel myself getting close. “I’m gonna—”
“Come for me,” he growls, his own rhythm faltering as he gets closer to his own release.
With a cry, I spill over his hand, my body clenching around him as he follows me over the edge, filling me with his cum. We stay like that for a moment, both of us panting and trembling, before he pulls out and turns me around to kiss me deeply.
“Fuck,” I murmur against his lips. “That was…
“”
“Yeah,” he agrees, resting his forehead against mine. “It was.”
