Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
GABRIEL
Present
“It’s me.”
I don’t know what else to say. I haven’t felt this fucking nervous since I last looked over my shoulder and boarded a flight to get the hell out of town. Not since I said goodbye to her. I swallow thickly and take a single step forward, ignoring the battering in my chest.
Maybe on the outside I’m cool, calm, and collected, with no real issues about standing in her apartment, waiting for her as if I belong here. But the truth is that I’m burning up on the inside.
A slow prickle creeps up the tips of my fingers, and I itch to touch her, to have my hands on her body and bring her in close. I’m perfectly still, though, as she stands there in complete shock.
I thought I was ready. I thought that after seeing her from afar, and seeing her through the lens of the investigators I paid to tail her, that I’d be ready for her. The truth is . . . nothing could have prepared me for my Kiersten.
Her hair’s still silky, maybe with a touch of color in it now to hide a thread of gray here or there, but two decades have treated her as if she’s a decadent wine. Her face is still the same, those same large, expression-filled eyes, the same flawless cheekbones, the same soft, plump lips that were made for kissing.
She’s still my every fantasy, not just because she’s a vision but because of every little piece of her that’s been etched into my soul. As I inhale, I can smell that special mix of aromatic spice perfume and natural essence that are entirely her.
“You’re still wearing Schernazde,” I murmur, referring to the perfume that I introduced her to. “Why?” The question is barely spoken beneath my breath.
She hesitates, and I can see the answer in her eyes. She’s done so many things, but she’s still mine.
Rather than wait for an answer, I let it go. “I let myself in,” I continue after a moment, allowing the tension to relax slowly.
She blinks but seems to find her voice again, albeit quietly. “I can see that.”
With one step forward, she has nowhere else to go. Her back is against the door. I can’t help it any longer. I cup her cheek, rubbing a roughened thumb across her cheekbone and marveling in how soft her skin still is. Her eyes close slowly, and the softest of sighs leaves her.
That’s my good girl.
Her hands cup mine, gripping onto me and keeping us skin to skin. The feel of her is like fire. Soft and gentle, though. It’s far different from me, not after all these years. My touch is rough in a way that neither of us were familiar with back then, my fingers callused and roughened by a lifestyle that I saved her from.
They say that the true measure of any choice is knowing whether you’d do it again even with full hindsight to your benefit. And well, here I am, and I’d make the same choices again if I had to. “Kiersten.”
She swallows thickly, her eyes focusing after another breath, and the questions pour from her as if they’ve been held in for a decade. “Where did you go? How did you get here? How did you know where to find me? Why did you come here? What happened, is everything—” Her tone becomes hectic, and the worried look I left her with returns.
I cut her off before she can devolve into full panic mode, pressing my thumb to her lips. “Shh.” Her gaze is locked with mine, wide and panicked, so I do what I must . . . I lie. “Everything is fine.”
“Fine?” she questions, her eyes still slightly glassy even though her eyebrow rises incredulously. “Gabriel, you disappeared from my life. I heard nothing, knew nothing for close to twenty years . . . and everything is fine?”
I nod, knowing I’m hiding the full truth from her. I never want to burden her with all of the darkness, all of the sin, that I’ve carried since I left. “You know I had to,” I remind her, hoping that will be enough.
She knows the basics. She knows why I had to disappear. Why I had barely enough time to do much more than turn a few financial accounts over to her, enough to set her up for life . . . or to open Club X. I still have questions there, details that I want answered.
“Everything is fine,” I repeat and add in a calming tone that used to soothe every worry she had, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”
A moment passes, and I watch as her guard slowly lowers, as her expression softens, but not so much that she’s amenable.
“So what does that mean?” she asks, uncertain, unsure . . . untrusting. It’s that last bit that hurts. I swallow thickly. She used to trust every word that came out of my mouth. If I’d told her to jump from the top of a skyscraper, she’d have done it with full trust that I’d have a way to swoop out of the sky and catch her before she got hurt.