Haze (The Fosters of New York 2) - Page 50

Gabriel

There was a moment when the confession was mine to make. It happened when I first saw the handcuffs on the table as she rooted through her belongings trying to find her phone. It's been the one thing that has gnawed at me since I kissed her that first night in my car.

I saw her at Skyn. I watched her through the glass and I should tell her that.

Those are the words my conscience believes are my truth.

The wise, and experienced, crevices of my mind are telling me to leave it the fuck alone. She's here, in my bed, sleeping as her nude body is pressed against mine. I've tasted her, I've fucked her and I have no intention of stopping.

Drudging up a moment in the past will only embarrass her and push her back into that corner of humiliation she felt at the hotel when I ignored her pleas for more.

I have no reason to go back to that club and I'll make damn sure she doesn't either. I'll give her everything she needs and wants. Everything.

She stirs slightly, her soft breasts pressing against my chest.

I could take her again right now. If she'd given me the go ahead, I'd roll her onto her back to sink my cock into her cunt so I can feel the slickness and smoothness around me. It's something I'd only done once or twice when I was a teenager with women whose names I can't recall. The sensation was nice, pleasant but I know with Isla it would be more.

It's not what she wants. She's cautious, wary, and careful with herself.

I won't push. I want to push for more than she's ready or willing to give but she's setting the pace of this. It moves as she wishes. I don't need to tell her that, she senses it. I sense it's exactly what she needs.

"Do you have any ice cream?"

Her body trembles as it absorbs the vibrations from my chest as I chuckle deeply. "Are you talking in your sleep or do you want ice cream?"

"You're so ripped I bet you never eat ice cream."

I roll over her, pinning her hands against the sheet above her head. Her hair is a mess, her lips still swollen from when I'd fucked her mouth hours ago.

"I have chocolate and strawberry." I inch her thighs apart with my knee. "If you want another

flavor, I'll send Charles to get it."

"You'd send him to get me ice cream?"

"I'll go myself if you prefer." I look down at her body. It's beautiful.

She circles her hips off the bed. "I don't want you to go."

"I'll stay here forever if that's what you want."

Her eyes soften as she stares into mine. It's almost painful the way she looks at me. There's a pureness there, an innocence that is in sharp contrast to the person she presents to the world. Here, with me, there's no filter in her smile or her gaze.

"I'll get you any flavor of ice cream you want after I make love to you."

Her eyes inch down my face to my chest and beyond. "Do you have another condom? I brought some. They're on the table by the door."

I nod faintly when I inch closer, leaning forward to run my tongue over her bottom lip.

"Please, get the condom." She pulls her hands free to push at my chest. "I can't. I won't without it."

I hike her thighs over mine and scoop my hand behind her back as I lean to the left to grab the condom package I'd placed on the nightstand earlier. I rest her back down as I rip it open to sheath myself, my eyes glued to her face the entire time.

"I'm sorry," she says softly. "It's just that…"

"No." I silence her with a finger to her lips. "You will never apologize for protecting yourself."

She nods faintly.

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Fosters of New York Romance
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