Page 235 of Gabriel
I don’t understand what’s happening. He was so angry earlier. But right now, all I feel is his desperation, his need to be close to me.
I don’t have time to think, to question. My body reacts to his without thought, my arms winding tighter around his neck, holding him like he’s the only thing keeping me grounded.
He sets me back on my feet, but his hands never leave me, cupping my face, his forehead pressed against mine. “I thought I lost you,” he whispers, his breath warm and ragged against my skin.
I blink, confusion swirling inside me. “I thought you were mad?—”
He cuts me off with his mouth, crashing into mine with a fierceness that steals my breath. For a split second, I forget everything—where I am, what I was going to say—and kiss him back, hard. His lips are demanding, his kiss rough and desperate, and I can feel the raw emotion behind it.
But then reality slams into me.
“Wait,” I gasp, pulling back, but Gabriel doesn’t let go. His lips press to my cheek, my temple, trailing warmth and fire wherever they touch.
“Gabriel—”
“It’s okay,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
But that’s not what I mean. I push against his chest, confusion and anger swirling inside me, mixing into a chaotic mess. “I can’t do this,” I whisper, more to myself than to him, but I push harder.
His arms drop, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as I step back, the space between us suddenly too much and not enough at the same time.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice cracking slightly.
I shake my head, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. “Where is this coming from?” My voice is shaky, my chest tightening with emotions I don’t understand. “You were furious with me a few hours ago. You wouldn’t even talk to me. What’s changed?”
His face softens, and he steps closer again, his hand reaching for mine. “I was an idiot,” he admits, his voice rough with regret. “I thought I lost you, Cecilia.” His words are a whisper, meant only for me. “When I found out Holt got out and I couldn’t find you ... I thought … I can’t even say it out loud.”
I look into his eyes, seeing the truth there. The fear. The vulnerability. He pulls me close again, pressing my head to his chest. His heart races beneath my ear, pounding hard and fast.
“Fuck, I hope you can forgive me,” he whispers into my hair, his voice broken. “Ineedyou to forgive me. I was out of line. I wasn’t—” he chokes out his words. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I whisper back, but the words feel heavy, weighed down by all the emotions swirling inside me.
Gabriel’s arms tighten around me, his body a shield against the world, but I can feel the weight of his guilt, the tension radiating from him. His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, and I close my eyes, sinking deeper into his warmth, even though I know I shouldn’t. Not like this.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” he says, his voice raw, vibrating through his chest. “I fucked up. You needed me, and I wasn’t there for you. But I’m going to fix this. I won’t let you down again, I swear.”
I pull back just enough to look up at him, the shadows of the streetlights casting lines across his face, making him look both softer and harder all at once. His honey-brown eyes search mine, desperate for something, and I know he’s looking for forgiveness, but it’s more than that. He needs me to trust him again. To believe he can protect me, even when everything feels out of control.
But trust? That’s not something you can fix with a few words and a desperate kiss.
“I’m not lying,” I say, my voice small, my chest tightening. “I’m just … tired, Gabriel. I’m really freaking tired.”
He lifts his hand, brushing a strand of hair from my face, the touch so gentle, so reverent, it makes my throat burn. “I know, baby. I know you are.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “Come home with me.”
I blink up at him, heart stuttering in my chest. “What?”
“Just for tonight,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing against mine again, his breath warm against my lips. “You’re exhausted, and I’m losing my fucking mind. I just need to know you’re okay. I need to keep you close. For my own sanity.”
I close my eyes, my resolve crumbling with every word he speaks. Ishouldsay no. I should push him away, tell him we need space, that this isn’t the answer. But my body betrays me, leaning into him, craving the safety his arms promise.
After everything that’s happened tonight, there’s nowhere else I’d feel safe. No one else I’d trust to keep me grounded.
“It’s a bad idea,” I whisper, the words barely audible as I rest my head back against his chest. His heart is still pounding, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
“Then why does it feel like the only option?” he asks softly, his lips brushing my temple.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I nod, unable to argue with the truth in his words. Because itdoesfeel like the only option. Even if it’s temporary. Even if I know we’re walking a dangerous line.
