Page 18 of The Replay
“Goodnight,” I tell the guys.
“Goodnight,” a chorus of voices responds.
“C’mon,” Gabriel murmurs, his voice soft, but insistent, as he leads me up the stairs and into his room. It’s dimly lit, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the bed. His space is always so clean, so organized, and yet right now, it feels like the safest mess I could ever step into.
I sit on the edge of the bed, running my fingers through my hair, trying to shake off the weight of the day, but it clings to me like a second skin.
Gabriel crouches in front of me, his warm hands on my bare knees, his eyes searching mine with so much intensity it makes my chest ache. “You okay?”
“I will be,” I whisper. “I just … need a minute.”
He nods, his thumb brushing over my skin again, sending shivers racing up my spine. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
I believe him.
Seconds pass, turning into minutes, both of us too afraid to break the silence. Whatever this is, whatever moment of peace we’ve found together, it feels fragile, and I don’t want to be the one to shatter it.
“You know you can talk to me,” he murmurs.
“Do you want to talk about the wedding?” I counter.
His lips press into a thin line, and he shakes his head no.
“I don’t want to talk about tonight, either.”
“We need to,” he tells me.
“After you.”
His brows pull together, and his expression darkens. I can tell he doesn’t like my response.
“Tomorrow?”
I consider it. “Okay,” I tell him. “We can talk about all of the hard stuff tomorrow.”
gabriel
. . .
It takeseverything in me to walk away from her. My muscles scream to stay, to pull her closer, but I know if I don’t step back now, I’ll push her for something she’s not ready to give. So I force myself to stand. My chest feels tight, every inch of me resisting the distance, but I manage to mutter, “I’ll be right back,” and walk away.
Grabbing a pair of sweats from my dresser, I head into the bathroom and get changed for the night, leaving my chest bare. The mirror above the sink catches my reflection, and I pause, bracing my hands against the counter as I take in the strain lining my face. My jaw clenches. My eyes are rimmed with exhaustion, shadows dark beneath them. Fuck. It feels like I’ve aged a decade in the span of a few hours.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me, but it doesn’t help.
Flicking off the light, I return to my room.
She’s still on the bed where I left her, knees drawn up, her body small against the backdrop of my space.
I grab a shirt from my closet, setting it beside her before crouching down in front of her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body.
“Do you want to get ready for bed?” I ask softly, my voice thick with emotion I’m barely holding back.
She exhales, and the soft brush of her breath against my skin sends shivers through me. Her eyes travel down my bare chest, and I swallow hard, trying to tamp down the desire that’s rising fast and relentless inside me.
Her gaze is appreciative—hell, it’s more than that. It’s hungry. The kind of look that makes my body respond before my mind can stop it.
She reaches out, her fingers grazing my skin, barely touching, but enough to ignite the need that’s been simmering just beneath the surface. It’s almost too much. The smell of her, the softness of her touch—it’s intoxicating, and I’m quickly losing control.
