Page 126 of The Associate
Maybe he had overstepped. The key Gael had given him a month ago was for emergencies, or for when Gael was running late and wanted Samuel to let himself in. Not for redecorating the kitchen with flour and taking over the oven. Maybe this was too much. Too domestic. Too presumptuous.
Gael took a step into the kitchen. Then another. His eyes never left Samuel’s face.
“I love you.”
The words were quiet. Low.
Samuel froze. His hands, which had been reaching for the oven mitts, hung in the air. His eyes went wide. His mind emptied of all thought, all sound, all smell. There was only the echo of those three words.
“Wha…?” he managed, the syllable trailing off into nothing. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He couldn’t have.
Gael kept moving. He crossed the remaining space between them, stopping right in front of him. He was close enough that Samuel could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the tiny flecks of darker brown in his irises.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Gael said, his voice still that low, even murmur. “It’s okay. I know these things are hard for you. The ‘gay thing,’ thetalking about itthing… I just wanted you to know.” He finished speaking just as he reached up.
His hands rose to Samuel’s cheeks. They were warm, his palms smooth against Samuel’s skin. He held his face gently, his thumbs resting just below the cheekbones.
“It’s okay,” he repeated, softer now.
Samuel let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He felt his body, which had been locked in a posture of stunned panic, begin to relax, muscle by muscle. He leaned into the warm cradle of Gael’s hands, his eyes searching Gael’s face.
And he could see it. It was there, in the unwavering focus of his gaze, in the slight softening at the corners of his mouth.
He really did. He really loved him.
The realization didn’t come with fireworks or fanfare. It came with a quiet, settling certainty, like a final piece sliding into place.
“I love you too.”
The words were out before he could stop them, before he could think them through, before the old voices could rise up and censor him. They tumbled out, clear and sure, because they were simply the truth.
How could he not?
This man, who had seen his broken pieces and hadn’t looked away. Who had built a sanctuary just for him. Who had knelt on a floor and called a crime a crime. Who held him through nightmares and kissed him in sunlit cafes and now stood in a kitchen smelling of burned garlic and home, holding his face and telling him he was loved.
How could he not love him back?
A beautiful, slow smile spread across Gael’s face, erasing the severe lines completely. It was a smile Samuel had seen only in glimpses; a rare, unguarded sunrise. Then Gael leaned in and kissed him.
It started soft, gentle. A tentative meeting of lips, a question asked with breath rather than pressure. Samuel went still, his world narrowing to the singular point of contact; the warmth, the slight yielding, the scent of Gael’s skin, clean and sharp like winter air.
Then it changed.
Gael’s mouth grew more insistent, his lips parting against Samuel’s.
Samuel opened for him without thought. A low sound hummed in the back of his throat, barely a moan, a vibration of pure, startled sensation as Gael’s tongue swept in.
The kiss deepened, turning hungry. The softness was gone, burned away by a sudden, consuming heat. Gael’s hand slid from his jaw to cup the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, angling his head to take the kiss deeper still. The taste of him, dark coffee and something intrinsically, dangerouslyGael, flooded Samuel’s senses.
His own hands came up, fluttering for a moment in the charged air before they found purchase, clutching at the sleek, expensive fabric of Gael’s suit jacket. He held on, his fingers twisting into the wool, anchoring himself as the solid floor beneath him seemed to dissolve and the entire world tilted on its axis.
Gael’s arm wrapped around his back, pulling him flush against his body. The other hand slid down, cupping the back of his thigh, then his ass, gripping him through his jeans. The feel of that large, possessive hand on him, made Samuel moan directly into his mouth.
Then Gael was lifting him. He bent his knees slightly, got a firm hold, and hoisted Samuel up onto the clear space of the kitchen counter. The cooling rack with the lasagna was shoved aside with a careless scrape. Samuel’s legs dangled over the edge. Gael stepped between them, his hands going to the button of Samuel’s jeans. He popped it open, tugged the zipper down, and pushed the denim and his briefs down his hips in one rough motion. Samuel’s cock sprang free, already hard and leaking.
Gael didn’t pause. He dropped to his knees right there on the kitchen floor. He looked up at Samuel for a fleeting second, his eyes dark, before he leaned forward and took him into his mouth.
Samuel cried out, his head falling back with a thud against the upper cabinet. The heat was shocking. Gael’s mouth was firm, his tongue a flat, relentless pressure along the underside of his shaft. He sucked, deep and slow, then drew back, his lips tight, before sinking down again. Samuel’s fingers scrambled for purchase on the granite countertop, his hips giving an involuntary jerk.
