Page 135 of The Path to Loving Him
I loved how she went along with everything Mac wanted even though I could tell, at times, she was in pain.So kind.
I loved how Gabby handled Mac so delicately, how she listened with full eye contact. She put Mac first, and that surprised the hell out of me.
Hell, it made me . . . made me like her.
Like her more than I should.
And I spent all day yesterday counting down the damn hours until I knew she was going to take a shower. I waited and waited until the moment she walked through the door. I knew I needed her. One last taste, I told myself.
And I got that last taste. I got my dessert I so desperately wanted.
It was fucking perfect.
Seeing how much I could pleasure her with just my fingers and mouth . . . addictive. I needed more. And even after the shower, when I sent her on her way, I lay in my newly made bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what would happen if I texted her and asked her to come over.
See, I’m a goddamn fool.
The bell rings, and the class packs up their workbooks while I knock myself out of my reverie. I shout something about what pages of homework they need to complete for tomorrow and then watch them walk out of the classroom.
Once they’re all gone, I slip my phone into my pocket, lock my door, and nearly sprint to the teachers’ lounge. On the way, I get a few head nods from some of my players, a few hellos from some students, and one fist bump from a kid I swear I’ve never seen before in my life.
When I reach the teachers’ lounge, it’s empty, so I grab my lunch from the fridge and find a table that could accommodate Gabby and a few stragglers if they decide to join. Am I one to eat in the teachers’ lounge often? Not really.
I’ve pretty much stuck to my classroom, but apparently, my mind has changed as to what I do during my lunch break.
A few teachers trickle in. Some that I don’t care to speak to, not because I’m an ass, but because they’re more into student drama, and that’s just not my vibe. And they know it because they sit at the farthest table from me.
I unpack my lunch and take my burger patties to the microwave, where I heat them for a few minutes. When I packed my lunch, I just dipped into the leftovers from the weekend, which makes it super simple. Burgers with no buns, pasta salad, and some cut fruit. Easy.
When my burgers are done, I bring them back to my table, worried that Gabby might not show up, but that’s when the door opens, and she walks through laughing.
Something light in my chest floats up when I see her . . . until I see who’s behind her, making her laugh.
Fucking Christian.
I swear to fuck, if this man thinks he has any chance at even remotely entertaining Gabby, he’s fucking wrong.
When Gabby spots me, she smiles and brings her lunch over to the table, making me feel better, only for that to be squashed when Christian joins us too.
This fucking guy.
“Hey, how was your morning?” Gabby asks, taking a seat and wincing at the same time. She’s clearly still in pain.
“Good. How are your legs?” I ask.
“What’s wrong with your legs?” Christian cuts in, looking concerned.
You can put the concerned look away, you fuck. While you were probably ironing your shirt last night, I was tongue deep in Gabby’s pussy.
“Oh, I have some bruises on my thighs.”
Christian’s brow creases. “Oh, how did you get those?”
“Painting the foul pole,” she answers easily. “My ladder slipped, and I had to slide down the pole. Apparently, I forgot how to slide down a pole properly and, well, bruised up my legs pretty good, but they’re doing better. I think I’m holding it together in front of the students.”
“Ouch, that sounds unpleasant.”
“Kind of was. I spent all weekend rubbing cream on the bruises.”
