Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Gabby stayed curled into me, her body warm and still, but I could feel the way her breath caught every so often. It also felt like her heart was beating faster than she wanted it to, as if something was trying to claw its way out of her chest, and she was too tired to hold it back anymore.
Her fingers, resting lightly on my thigh, twitched once, and then her voice came, soft as smoke. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
I stopped chewing, letting her words settle in my chest like a stone. She didn’t look at me, just stared past my shoulder, her eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the trees.
“It wakes me up at night,” she whispered. “Thinking about what would happen if something went wrong. If you got hurt because of me.” She sucked in a ragged breath, sharp and shaky. “I know this wasn’t your fight." Her voice cracked. “But I’m so glad it’s you.”
I didn’t say anything right away. I just stared at her—at this woman who’d come barreling into my life like a storm wrapped in sarcasm and panic and strength she didn’t even know she had.
Then I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to hers. The touch was gentle and simple, but it said everything.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I murmured, my voice low, barely more than a breath between us.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and I felt her exhale against my skin. In that quiet, with the night wrapped around us and her heartbeat pressed against my chest, I knew she wasn’t dragging me into anything. I’d walked in willingly, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
Gabby didn’t say anything right away after I whispered that I wouldn’t have it any other way, but something in her shifted.
Her breathing changed—shallower, quicker. I could feel it against my neck. Her fingers flexed where they rested against my leg, curling just slightly into the fabric of my jeans like she needed to hold on to something solid.
Then, slowly, she angled her head, and before I could blink, before I could even ask if she was sure, she kissed me.
It wasn't soft or hesitant. It was deep, hungry, and hot. Like she’d been holding it back for days and couldn’t anymore. It was a kiss that told me everything Gabby didn’t say out loud—that she was scared, that she was tired, that she wanted something tangible to hold onto in all the chaos. That she wanted me.
I froze for half a second, my brain catching up to the explosion happening in my chest. Then I was moving.
I set the plates down fast, letting them clatter gently onto the ground beside us, not caring if the steak got coated in dirt or if the salad rolled off into the grass. My hands found her face, cupping her jaw, angling her just right so I could kiss her back.
And when I did, it was like striking a match to gasoline.
Her mouth parted beneath mine, and I deepened it, pouring every ounce of emotion I’d been holding in—fear, desire, respect, everything—into the way I kissed her. One hand slid into her hair, the other still holding her cheek as if anchoring her in place, like if I let go, we’d both come undone.
She made a soft sound, not quite a moan, not quite a sigh, but it wrecked me. Her hands gripped the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, needing me like I needed her.
It wasn’t slow, and it wasn’t polite. It was full of want and promise and a thousand things we hadn’t said but had been building between us every time we touched, every time we fought, every time we laughed when we shouldn’t have.
Her lips were warm and soft and tasted faintly like the sweet tea she’d sipped earlier, but it was the emotion behind the kiss that made my pulse stutter. She was all in. And so was I.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathing hard as our breaths mingled in the dark.
We didn’t say anything, we didn’t have to. The kiss had said it all.
Her forehead still rested against mine, her breath brushing my lips as it slowed and steadied. I kept one hand curled around the back of her neck, my thumb gently stroking just behind her ear. It felt like the world had narrowed down to just this—the quiet, the night air, and her, warm and solid in my arms.
“You feel better?” I asked, my voice low.
Gabby didn’t answer right away. Instead, she made a soft, vaguely indecipherable sound—a hum more than a word, non-committal and somewhere between yeah and don’t make me think yet.
She tucked herself tighter against me, pressing her face into the curve of my neck and shoulder, her breath slow and warm against my collarbone.