Page 92 of Vicious Temptation
I’m more than a little shaken up, underneath. With every step Bella and I have taken, I haven’t been able to ignore the weight of what we’re doing together, the intimacy of it that’s more than just ordinary first times. With her, it all means so much more, because of how much trust she’s placed in me. How wholly she’s given herself over.
I thought this wouldn’t feel that much different than anything else we’ve done. I was telling her the truth when I said I’d never been anyone’s first before, but I wasn’t expecting it to have so much of an impact.
I don’t want to let her go. I don’t want it to end with this night. It’s supposed to be over now between us, the coming morning, the thing that severs that intimacy between us, and I don’t know how I can go back to how things were before. How I can pretend—not that this never happened, but that it’s something that can be easily tucked away into before, while we go on with the after.
I care about her. I want her—now, more than ever. I might even be falling in love with her, and that fucking terrifies me—because I have no idea how deeply I could allow that feeling to sink in, if I let it. I feel certain that, at some point, I’d disappoint her. There would be something I wouldn’t be able to give, my fears of loss and old wounds poisoning anything new we tried to make, and I’d break her heart.
She deserves better than me. This—ushering her into what the future holds for her with someone as shiny and bright and eager as she is—that’s all I can do for her. All I should do for her.
This can’t happen again. Once—that’s what we agreed on. We can’t change the rules now. And when we wake up, all of the lines need to be redrawn.
I reassure myself that we’ve navigated this so far. We’ll do so again.
All that matters is that I don’t lose her entirely.
—
When I do wake up, it’s before Bella. Her soft curves are pressed against mine, my cock rock-hard against the small of her back, and the temptation to roll her over and lick her pussy until she wakes up, and then bury myself inside of her is almost unbearable. But I force myself out of bed instead, dressing and letting her sleep as I head downstairs to workout. My body protests that decision every step of the way.
It’s almost impossible to focus. We’ve worked out together for a couple of weeks now, steadily, and done a lot more than that, too. My gym, my private sanctuary, is now filled with memories of Bella gasping my name, of me touching her in a dozen different ways for the first time, of all the first times she touched me in return. It’s hard to work out with an erection, and mine doesn’t want to subside. I give up halfway through my routine, bracing one knee against the weight bench as I slide my cock free and wrap my hand around it, stroking myself hard and fast to a slideshow of memories of Bella in my mind.
When I come, it’s nowhere near good enough. I don’t think anything other than her will ever be good enough, ever again. The thought is depressing, because I already know I’m long past wanting women casually. I want Bella, and while I would never pressure her for more than she’s willing to give, the thought of having been given a taste of something so perfect and then losing it makes my chest ache.
Still, I wouldn’t take it back. Even if I never touch her again.
Bella is no longer in my bed when I go back upstairs to shower. And when I come back down, I find her in the foyer, in her workout clothes, getting out her earbuds.
She looks up sharply when she hears my footsteps, her gaze meeting mine. I can feel the prickle of awkwardness between us, the question of how we go back to normal when last night we were as close as two people can be.
“Morning.” Her voice is soft, flat, and I clear my throat.
“Did you sleep okay?”
She nods. “I thought it would be better if I got up before you were back. I’m going to just go for a run. It’s probably better if we don’t work out together for a little while. Until things feel normal again.” She manages a smile, although it looks forced, and I wonder if it really is somehow this easy for her. If she’s just closed the door on the last couple of weeks, now that she’s finished what she wanted.
I don’t think so. I think she’s grasping at normalcy as much as I am, and feeling that things can’t ever go back to the way they were before, between us. I can see it in the way her smile trembles a little at the corners, the way she moves quickly away from me, as if she’s afraid she’ll change her mind.
“See you.” She keeps that smile plastered on her lips, heading for the back door. She breezes through the kitchen, past Agnes, who looks at her, and then at me, a knowing look passing over her face as her eyes narrow.
“Gabriel.” Agnes clicks her tongue as she sets a plate down in front of me. “I hope you’re going to tell me this fine morning that you and Miss D’Amelio made things official.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I pick up my fork, intent on not being baited into this conversation, but Agnes has never understood the meaning of leaving well enough alone. She’s not going to start now.
“I know you’re not blind enough to not see what’s right in front of your face.” Agnes shakes her head. “She’s perfect for you, Gabriel. She’s perfect for this family. And I see the way the two of you look at each other.”
“Be that as it may.” I reach for the butter, doing my best not to look her in the eye, but I can feel Agnes’ glare leveled at me, and I finally give up, sitting back and looking at her. “I can’t fall in love again, Agnes. We’ve talked about this.” I give her a pleading look, one that tells her I don’t want to revisit this conversation. Not this morning, especially. But I can see the stubborn line of Agnes’ mouth, and I know she’s not going to let it go that easily.
“Sure. Right after Delilah passed.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s been four years, Gabriel. You can be happy again. No one will think less of you.”
“I’m not worried about what anyone thinks. It has nothing to do with that. I just can’t.” I shake my head, and Agnes snorts.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she says flatly. “You’re ignoring what’s right in front of you, over something you’ve made up in your head. I just hope you figure it out before that girl goes off to greener pastures.”
And then she’s gone, disappearing back into the kitchen and leaving me to think on that as I eat my eggs and toast.
Bella doesn’t reappear until after it’s time for me to leave for work, and I know there’s no point in waiting on her. There’s a possibility that she’s waiting on purpose, so we can avoid each other as much as possible, until the initial awkwardness wears off. We won’t be able to avoid each other much—considering that she lives and works in my house, so I can’t blame her. She’s entitled to whatever space she wants and needs, and that’s one easy way for her to get it.
I just want to see her again. And in the circumstances, that’s as good of a reason as any to go ahead and go.