Chapter 15

Sofia

My head throbbed. It wasn't so much a hangover as being woken from a deep sleep by a banging noise, but seeing the man standing before me was somewhat relieving.

"I'm home," he said, his expression slightly odd, his initial anger having dissipated.

"Okay," I replied softly, yawning again.

"You reek of alcohol," he commented.

I blinked. Did he just wake me up to announce his arrival and engage in small talk? "Do I?" I asked, sniffing my clothes. I had showered and didn't smell of alcohol.

He nodded, leaning against the doorframe. "Drinking alone?"

"No. I went out with friends."

He raised an eyebrow. "Friends?"

I nodded.

I expected him to question my sudden acquisition of friends, but instead, he asked, "Friends as in plural?"

"Yes, plural. As in two." Eyebrows narrowed, I stared at him. What was going on? What was with this line of questioning?

"Okay."

"Okay," I repeated. In the days he was gone, I'd spent a lot of time wondering what it would be like when he returned, and how our first conversation after our kiss would go… but I hadn't imagined this.

He remained silent, seemingly unwilling to say more. "Um," I hesitated, "So, goodnight?"

"No." He shook his head, straightening and stepping into my room.

I was in my pajamas, at least not tiny shorts like last time.

I reflexively stepped back, still facing him, and he continued walking toward me. "Did you like kissing me?"

"What?"

Gabriel stood near my bed, crossing his arms. "I kissed you, Freckles. You kissed me back. I'm asking if you liked it."

My lips parted in surprise; I didn't miss the way his eyes flickered from my eyes to my lips. Oh, I remembered how he tasted…

I fiddled with the hem of my top, avoiding his gaze. "I—I did."

A smirk played on his lips as he took another step closer. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hm." I wasn't shy, but he made me nervous. He made me feel everything at once whenever he was near.

"Don't look away when I'm looking at you, Freckles." His voice was low, compelling me to look up at him.

He was standing before me, both hands reaching out to hold my arms, his thumbs tracing circles on my bare skin. I shivered at his touch. "You liked it when I kissed you, yes?"

I gulped, biting my lower lip, bobbing my head in a barely perceptible nod.

"You want me to kiss you again?"

My breath hitched.

"Tell me, Freckles," His eyes wandered from my eyes to my lips. "Did you dream of it while I was gone? Did you think of it again? Of all the things I could have done to you?"

His right hand was now at my waist, pulling me closer; his left hand found my hair, tucking loose strands behind my ear before tracing the freckles under my cheek, all the way to my lips.

I closed my eyes, breathing heavily.

"Talk to me. Freckles. Tell me if you want it."

Opening my eyes to meet his brown ones, I felt shivers down my spine, the wetness between my legs, his touch overwhelming my senses. "I—I thought about it."

"What did you think about?"

"The kiss," I mumbled, "And you."

His left hand dropped to my neck, and I instantly missed his touch on my skin—my lips—the way his thumb had tucked in my lower lip.

"Good," he smirked. "Because that's all I thought about too—the kiss and you."

With that, he leaned down. Knowing what was coming, I closed my eyes and, rising on tiptoe, met him halfway. I pressed my lips to his, holding his face, one hand slipping into his hair to pull him closer.

He tasted the same as that night—minty, but without the vodka.

One of his hands moved from my waist to my buttocks, squeezing before lingering there, his fingers dangerously close to my inner thigh. If he moved his hand slightly inward, he'd find me wet. So wet, for him.

I gasped when he pulled me on top of him after sitting on the edge of my bed, and then I climbed on top of him without breaking the kiss.

I didn't know why we were doing this, or where it was going. But I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to touch me. Everywhere, all at once. I wanted him. Inside me. His fingers. His tongue. Everything.

We pulled away, gasping, and I had to get off him as he shifted. But my eyes widened when he got up from the bed. "What are you doing?" I asked hastily.

"Going to my room?" He blinked, feigning innocence.

I was still gasping for air. "What? Why?"

"I told you, Freckles. If you want more, you've got to ask for it."

I breathed heavily.

I kissed Gabriel, again.

No, he kissed me, again.

And then he stopped, again.

He left me wet and breathless, again.

This was getting annoying.

I wanted more. Jesus. I wanted more.

"I want more," I blurted out so quickly it was almost embarrassing.

His eyes darkened. "Good. I was beginning to think you weren't going to ask."

"Shut up," I huffed, pulling him closer by his shirt. He smirked before taking it off, turning me to pin me against the wall before bending his head and kissing me again, more hungrily and passionately than before.