Renascence Ch. 06

"Am I distracting your driving?"

"Yes," I answered truthfully. It was hard to concentrate with him being so cute. I felt like I could see his face in every reflection, like he'd changed my vision forever. He was everywhere.

"I'll see you soon then. Drive safe, alright?"

"Right-o, cheerio," I answered.

He laughed. "Get over here so I can kiss you, you adorable creature."

"Stay away from me. I don't want your cooties."

"I think you do."

"Goodbye, Gabe."

"Be safe," he said with a chuckle and hung up.

—

Michael's is big. Like department store big, probably ten times bigger than the art store back in town. With aisle after aisle of art supplies, it was an amateur artist's dream. I trailed through the store, exploring while I waited for Gabe, who lived close enough to get there in less than five minutes, but for some reason there was a lot of traffic on the roads. It had started after I'd already gotten to the store. I hoped it'd clear up by the time I had to go home.

I was browsing through a few Paint by Number kits, and the minutes sort of ticked by. I checked my watch. It had been another fifteen minutes. Where the fuck was he?

"Grace," said a frantic voice, a big hand grabbing me suddenly by the arm. I turned around and looked up, and there stood Gabe, his wavy dark hair tousled, a grave expression on his face.

"We have to go right now," he said, tugging me towards the exit. "There's been an emergency blizzard warning."

"Whoa," I said, tripping to keep up. His grip on me tightened, straightening my stance with a jerk up by the arm. "This—is sudden."

"That's how blizzards are. They appear out of nowhere, and that's what makes them so dangerous. Come on, we have no time to waste."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"My apartment. It's safer there. I don't want you waiting out the storm here."

His apartment. Crap, I was not dressed right for this. I hadn't exactly left the house this morning with a matching pair of bra and panties. In fact, I was wearing an old, worn pair of underwear and a bra without any underwire—comfortable, but doing nothing for my tits. I hadn't expected to see him at all today, and now I was headed to his apartment. Christ, save me. I didn't know if I was going to survive this.

"Leave your truck here," he said when I'd looked across the parking lot outside. My car was parked in the back, but Gabe's was right out front, parked in a space that another frantic shopper must've left recently. There was a line of cars already on their way out onto the street.

I got into Gabe's car as he started it, and the engine roared to life, sending heat blasting from the vents. I sighed, buckled in and leaned back to observe him as he threw an arm behind my headrest to back out of the parking spot. I don't know why, but I'd always kind of found it hot when guys did that.

"What?" he said, glancing at me briefly.

"I was just thinking that you're hot. Like disgustingly hot."

"And you're beautiful. In a really loathsome kind of way," he retorted, grinning at the scowl I gave him.

He drove carefully, but urgently. When we made it to an underground parking garage to a nine-story building ten minutes later, he finally let out a deep sigh.

"Out of the red for now," he said. "We're going to take the stairs. I don't trust the elevator. Think you have it in you to climb five flights?"

"No," I said, mortified. "Physical activity and I don't mix. We're like oil and water."

"I'll carry you. I forgot you were anemic."

"What—no. I'll be fine."

To give myself some credit, I did make it up over halfway there. Three and a half flights before my legs turned to jelly and my chest ached. The stitch in my side was the most uncomfortable feeling I'd had in a long time. I bent over to catch my breath, rewarding Gabe with the middle finger.

"You-you fucking su-suck," I said, breathing hard.

"Here," he said, picking me up. "I've got you."

My head lolled on his shoulder as he took the stairs one, two at a time. He was agile, sure-footed and quick. It was a testament to what I guessed was a healthy lifestyle of eating right and working out—two things that I knew jack about. I was too skinny and embarrassingly weak—sexy, I know.

"This is me," he said, lowering me to my feet in front of apartment 509. He dug around in his pockets for his keys, located them, and then turned the lock. I reached out and turned his doorknob, knocking his hand aside. I really wanted to see his goddamn apartment.

"This is... sterile," I said, looking around at the sleek floors and spotless countertops of the kitchen to the right of the entrance. "You're so clean."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Gabe said, locking up behind him. "Here, give me your coat."

I unwrapped my scarf from my neck and unzipped my puffy purple insulated jacket. A pack of cigarettes was in the pocket, giving me the sudden urge to smoke, but I pushed the thought aside. I was not going to kiss him with nasty smoker's breath. He deserved the taste of my vanilla chapstick and Altoid wintergreen mint. I'd prepared for the kiss he'd promised.

"Thanks," I said, handing him my coat and scarf. He hung it up in a small hallway closet to the left of the entrance. His apartment had a modern open-floor plan, the kitchen facing a living room with a couch, an armchair, a coffee table, a big flatscreen TV and some plants that lined the windowsill of a large window. There were two doors on the far right corner, probably leading to a bedroom and bathroom. All in all, it was a small, but rather cozy little apartment. And clean, way too clean.

"I left the heat on," he said, placing a hand on the small of my back as he passed me to get to the kitchen. It was such a small gesture, probably something he hadn't even consciously meant to do, but it was enough to fill me with warmth. I remembered seeing my parents this way, Dad passing Mom, touching her gently, like it was a small sign for I love you.

"Hungry?" Gabe asked, pulling his fridge open. "Thirsty? Both?"

"Some water, if you don't mind."

"Catch," he said, throwing me a water bottle. I reached out to catch it, but all I managed to do was let it slip out of my grasp the moment it touched my hands.

"Hopeless," he said, chuckling, and strode over. He picked the water bottle off the floor, unscrewed the cap and passed it to me. I snatched it out of his hand, sloshing water down my wrist, wetting the sleeves of my shirt.

"Give me the grand tour," I said after I'd downed the entire bottle. I hadn't realized I'd been so thirsty. Gabe chucked the bottle in a recycle bin in a cupboard under the sink for me.

"This is it," he said, making a grand gesture of opening his arms like he was presenting a tiger at a circus or something. He looked like an idiot.

"You look like an idiot."

"Come on," he said, unbothered. "One grand tour coming up."

Gabe introduced me to each of his plants, all cacti, which he'd named Happiness, Courage, Depression, and lastly (and most surprisingly), Grace.

Seriously.

"I like to keep the things that confuse me close to me. I study them and think about them and spend time with them," he explained, slinging an arm casually over my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around his middle, taking in the scent of his cologne, a bold sandalwood that made me feel content, safe. It's weird how the senses can affect how you feel, how just a few spritzes of cologne had the power to take all of my anxiety and stomp it out.

I looked at Depression, and it was pretty true to its name; it was the saddest looking one of the bunch. Happiness looked cheerful with little flowers that had bloomed, and Courage was bright, vivid and bold. Grace was a Christmas cactus, which Gabe said was also called a Schlumbergera. It was delicate, with shy, drooping flowers and fiery red in color. I tried to imagine Gabe coming home to these plants, sitting beside them, watering them and talking to them, making himself comfortable with all the feelings that were still a struggle for him—and then me, the greatest mystery of all. Maybe that was how he was cracking my code, by talking to the plant, by thinking about everything objectively, seeing me, not the me that his psyche projected.

"Do you get lonely?" I asked, hoping it didn't sound like I was insulting him. I wasn't.

"Sometimes, but I'm what you'd call a recluse. Most of the time I don't mind the solitude."

"I get that," I said. "I like being alone, too."

"For the record, it's different with you. I feel that same sense of peace when it's just us," he said, looking down at me. His hazel eyes were light today, honey-golden with green and blue edges. He looked sincere and pure, made up of truth and justice, speaking our secret language with those beautiful eyes. Except there were no secrets there.

And that's when it occurred to me. There was no danger of being caught here. None.

"Kiss me," I said, reaching up to grab the collar of his t-shirt. I yanked him down, wrapped my arms around his neck and gazed at him expectantly.

"As many times as you ask me to," he said, lifting me gently, leveling our faces. My ankles locked around his waist, hands weaving into his thick hair, pulling as he let out a satisfied hiss.

And then he kissed me.

The windows rattled from the storm as we made out, tongues sliding, breaths hitching, lips finding purpose, finding relief, finding the connection, linking in a network of feelings—happiness and courage and even depression, bringing out our dark sides, our broken sides, but only to fix them, to fix us.

"Tell me to stop," he said, walking us to one of the doors.

"Don't," I said breathlessly. "Don't stop."

"Fuck," he growled, balancing me with one arm around me, the other turning the doorknob, opening up to a bedroom. He walked in, kicking the door closed behind him and dropped me unceremoniously on the bed.

I leaned up on my elbows, panting, my long hair a wild mess on my shoulders. I blew a strand of hair away from my face, watching as he stripped off his shirt and began to undo his belt. God, his fucking body was better than I'd imagined, lean but muscular, shoulders broad and forearms rippling, radiating strength, power.

"Wait," I said, sliding off the bed. I got on my knees in front of him, looking up with hungry eyes. "Let me."

He didn't say anything as I took over undoing his belt, my movements shaky, but determined. In a flash I had the belt unbuckled, button unsnapped, and then I was pulling down his zipper when his hand closed over mine, stopping me.

"You don't belong on your knees," he said. "Get up."

I shot him a deathly glare. "For once, just go with it, Gabe."

"I don't think so," he said, his hand closing tightly around mine before jerking me up. I let out a startled gasp, surprised and infuriated, but he didn't give me a chance to shout. His mouth covered mine, kissing me feverishly, pushing me back on the bed, sliding down his boxer briefs, kicking off his jeans, reaching for mine, undoing the button, pulling down my zipper, sliding the jeans off my hips, lower and lower, grabbing my panties on the way down, exposing me to him and the warm air. He only broke the kiss to pull my shirt off my body, one hand slipping under my back, unsnapping my bra, pushing the straps down my shoulders, kissing the marks they'd left, licking the lines, making me shiver and moan.

We were naked in every way now, literally and figuratively.

"Here in bed," he said darkly, his voice deep and low, "I own you."

God, yes. I wanted to be owned, taken and overpowered, relinquishing all control to him, letting him have his way with my body, to spend himself in me, to fuck me raw, filling all my emptiness with the stiff erection that was resting on my thigh. Like air, I inhaled him, taking in his heady scent, fingernails digging into his shoulders, drawing him to me, moaning to tease him, to make him do what we'd tumbled into this bedroom to do.

"I'm going to make you come so fucking hard," he said, kissing from my shoulders to my breasts, his breath hot on my skin. I writhed beneath him, throwing my head back on the bed, the soft comforter softening the blow. He kissed and licked around my sensitive nipples, teasing me, ignoring the frustrated groan that left my lips.

"Stop fucking around," I said, fingers biting down into his skin.

"I'll stop when I fucking mean to," he replied, staring back at me with a fierce, determined expression. There was no getting my way here. I was at his mercy.

"Oh, god," I gasped when he unexpectedly took my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, shocking me right to the place between my legs, making my insides turn to jelly. He nibbled, taking my sensitive nipple between his teeth, taking me somewhere euphoric between pain and pleasure until I could hardly take it anymore, begging him and begging him to keep going. He did, licking and sucking and biting as he parted my legs with his knee, fitting himself between my legs, the result of his arousal lining up with my sopping little pussy, dripping and slick for him.

"Are you on—?"

"Yes," I answered immediately. "It helps with my anemia. I've been taking birth control for years."

"Good," he growled, and then he slammed into me, his thickness stretching me, sliding against my sensitive folds, entering me, deeper and deeper, so big that I felt a white-hot pinch. I gasped, stiffening from the sudden sharp pain, tears pricking my eyes. I wasn't a virgin, but this hurt worse than losing my virginity, worse than tearing my hymen, worse than sloppy sex. He was experienced, hips snapping, slowing down to let me accommodate to the size of him, thick and long, filling me and filling me and filling me. Despite the attitude, despite the power, despite himself, he was still showing me mercy.

"Shh," he soothed, kissing me to comfort me, tender and sympathetic, that compassion he held seeping out, giving away that his intention was not to hurt me, but to bring me pleasure. My body adjusted, adapted, receiving his stiff length greedily, so tight that I was sucking him in, making him groan and hiss and moan right into my ear, the sounds making my toes curl.

He detected the change, listened as my gasps of pain turned into delicious moans, and then he didn't hold back anymore, ruthlessly pounding into me, brutal and frantic, like he was taking weeks of pent-up frustration out on this one moment, punishing me, punishing my body, forgetting that I was small, that I was delicate and fragile and could shatter any moment.

I fucking loved it.

The steadiness became unsteadiness, the control became uncontrollable, and the ache and need to come was elevating, taking me higher and higher, squeezing around the heavy cock inside of me, quivering, throbbing. My legs were lifted, thrown over his shoulders, and the angle changed, and suddenly I was speaking nonsense, begging and pleading, again and again, asking him to hit that spot, right there, please!

That was the last of the mercy he showed me. Harder and harder, deeper and deeper, fast and precise, finding the one place that had the capacity to throw me over the edge in seconds, and then—

Coming, we were coming.

The liquid heat that flooded me, spilling and spilling, the pulse, jerking and groaning gutturally, toes curling, blinding white stars, shattering me, shattering everything. It was so good that I wept, gasping and crying through the ecstasy, my fingernails digging into his back, scratching, drawing blood, leaving my mark, altering him the way he'd altered me, the way he'd appeared from nowhere, entering my life and entering me, changing me forever, making me fall so deeply and unequivocally in love that there was no turning back. He'd conquered me, conquered my heart, my spirit, my soul.

This was beyond a projection. This was transcendent, phenomenal, all-consuming and surpassing love, the real kind of love, the big kind of love.

"I love you."

And I cried some more, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my face into his chest, crying and crying because I hadn't been the one to utter those three life-altering words.

It had been Gabe.

"I love you too," I sobbed.

"I know," he said.

Then he made love to me, slow and deep, showing me how a man loved a woman, what it meant to fall in love, what it meant to have a slow crawl to a climax, coming undone and apart. He held me, speaking softly, talking me through my orgasm, whispering sweet, dirty things to prolong it, holding me like he was afraid I was going to fall through his grasp and disappear. I held tight, kind of afraid myself, like none of this was real, like I'd wake up any second and he wouldn't be there.

"Don't ever let go," I said desperately.

"I won't."

The aftermath was like molten lava creating something new, like a volcanic eruption that had resulted in a new island, a new place, beautiful and barren, but still something amazing. We lay together in his bed as the room grew darker and darker, whether from the storm or from the time of day, I didn't know, didn't care. All I knew was that I was in Gabe's arms, lost in that place between heaven and hell again, the great unknown, the only place where the two of us were allowed to exist together.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" I asked him.

"I didn't," he said hoarsely, "but I do now."

And with that statement, Gabriel Hart became both my religion and my ruin.