Saving ren saviour serie.., p.25
Saving Ren: Saviour Series Book One, page 25
“You gonna show me, Ren, or you gonna tell me first?”
I consider telling him I’m gonna combust because that’s what it feels like I’m going to do. I’m not sure if it’s arousal or menopause, but I am so fucking hot right now.
“I’m hot,” I whisper.
“That is not news to me, Ren.”
That earns him a chuckle.
“I mean I’m overheating menopausal kind of hot,” I tell him through my laugh.
“It’s got fuck all to do with the menopause and everything to do with me and the effect I have on women,” he says with a wink. I narrow my eyes on him, and that earns me a chuckle.
Rolling us over, I end up on top of him.
“Take your singlet off,” he orders.
I consider the consequences if I were to do this for a few seconds. Although it’s almost eight in the morning and the sun’s up, the day is dark and cloudy, so at least there’s no harsh sunlight blazing through the sheers at the window to highlight my many flaws and imperfections.
“I wanna look at you, Ren. Take it off.”
Feeling brave, I straddle him and without hesitation, pull my top over my head and toss it on the floor.
I watch him watching me. Raising his hand, with a featherlight touch, his fingertips settle at my throat, then, very gently, very slowly, trail their usual path down and over my chest, between my breasts. He doesn’t hesitate when he hits the rolls at my belly and just keeps going until they’re pushed inside the waist of my sleep shorts and his middle finger settles on my clit. I rock into it, rubbing myself against it, gaining the friction I need.
His other hand comes up to tweak and pull at my nipple, and I watch him watch what he’s doing to me.
His hips buck up, in turn moving his fingers against me harder.
“Take what you need. Make yourself come,” he orders.
I want to. I want to so fucking badly, but this is about me showing him what he means to me, so instead, I pull his hand from my shorts, slide down his body, and slide his trackies over his hips as I go. He’s wearing no underwear and his cock springs free.
Gabe uses his feet to get his trackies all the way off, and as soon as he stills, I set to work.
Blow jobs have never been my favourite thing in the world to give, but I’m almost desperate to give this to him. To show him what he already means to me. Tonight, after a few wines, I might even get brave enough to tell him.
I stroke him a couple of times before flicking my tongue over the slit. This earns me a shaky hiss, giving me enough of a boost to take all of him that I can into my mouth.
I stroke with my hand, flick with my tongue, and suck with my mouth.
Gabe grips at my hair and bucks with his hips. Sometimes he controls the pace as he face fucks me, others he lets me take charge. When his bucking and groaning are almost out of control, he slides his hands to my pits, lifts me, spins me around, sits my pussy on his face, and pushes into the middle of my back until I fall forward and take him back in my mouth again.
This time, Gabe’s in charge of everything. While his tongue flicks and rolls over my clit, his fingers push deep inside me, his hand pushes down between my shoulders, his hips buck up and down, and he fucks my mouth.
When my orgasm hits, it’s almost too intense, I try to outrun it by lifting off him and slowing its pace, but he moves his hand from my back to wrap around my hips and hold me in place. My knees press into the mattress and against the side of his head as my entire body convulses. When I moan against his dick, it’s his turn to explode, and he fills my mouth.
Without giving either of us a chance to recover, he flips me to my back, spins his own body around, and is once again looking down at me.
Dark blue eyes shining, his look is still intense.
“Are we clear now?”
I nod.
“Use ya fucking words, Ren. Tell me, we together? You mine?”
“I’m yours,” I tell him.
“And who the fuck am I, what am I, to you?”
“You’re Gabe, my Gabe. Mine.”
“And that’s all we need. Right now, for now, that’s all we need. I know it’s quick, I get everything’s happened fast, but that just means there’s been no fucking about. We just know, we’ve both known from the beginning that if we went there, we’d be in deep, and that’s exactly what’s happened.”
He lets out a long slow breath, the heat from it brushes my cheeks, right along with the gentle sweep of his eyes.
“I’ll get you an appointment with our family lawyer next week. You can talk to him about getting your divorce sorted. Unless the laws have changed, I think it takes around a year. Once that happens, then we’ll talk about changing things and maybe adding some labels.”
I say nothing to that because I’m not entirely sure what he means or whether I will ever be ready for anything more than what we already have.
I spend the rest of the day taking my time getting ready for our date. Gabe takes me to an Italian restaurant in Sorrento, down at the end of the peninsula. We eat good food, we drink far too much good wine, we talk nonstop. Everything about the night is normal. It’s drama-free. It’s exactly what we need—what I need—to make us feel like a real couple.
I pass out in the taxi on the way home, I don’t remember getting back to the house or Gabe putting me to bed. I can’t remember if I told Gabe exactly what he means to me or if I even needed to after showing him this morning.
I wake on Sunday morning to a banging headache, the sound of Gabe singing along to Coldplay, and the smell of bacon.
It’s a beautiful, bright, sunny morning, and as I lay there, smiling up at the ceiling, listening to Gabe sing, I realise that for the first time in a long time, that’s exactly the way I would describe how I’m feeling: Bright and sunny.
Gabe’s voice is actually pretty good. I’d noticed a couple of acoustic guitars in one of the guestrooms downstairs, and I’d been meaning to ask him if he played.
I decide to take a quick shower in an attempt to help ease my alcohol-induced headache. Showering and moisturising, I wrap myself in my robe and head quietly out to the kitchen, where Gabe’s now singing along to an Alex Clare song.
He has his back to me as he stands at the cooktop. At the same time he moves something around in the pan, he moves his hips and arse to the music.
He’s wearing boardies, his top half naked, hair still wet from his shower.
He looks delicious.
Mesmerised, I watch the muscles beneath the tanned skin of his back and shoulders work as he moves. He’s so fucking gorgeous it causes a tangible ache in my chest and belly to think that for right now, this man is mine.
The way he’s looked out for me, said and done all the right things to reassure me that what we’ve got is real and not just a quick fling all adds to that ache.
Even if we don’t last forever, right now, this is what I need. Not someone like him, but him. Just him.
I’m not a religious person, but with a name like Gabriel, I could almost believe he’s a gift sent from heaven, an angel sent to guide and help me through some of the worst weeks of my life.
“Ahhh, here she is. Awake are you, princess?”
I jolt at his voice, wondering if I am in fact awake because the man of my dreams is standing in front of me, half-naked and cooking me breakfast.
I stare mindlessly. The only thing registering is the trail of dark hair leading down inside the shorts that are sitting indecently low on his hips.
“You sleep okay? You snored well.”
My head jerks up, and my eyes meet his as my mouth drops open to protest, but it’s pointless. I know I snore. I wake myself up doing it sometimes, and I know it’s worse when I’ve had a drink.
“Shit, did I? I'm sorry.”
Far out, how embarrassing!
“No worries, you didn’t wake me. I set my alarm so I could go for a surf as soon as the sun came up, that’s the only reason I heard you.”
I return the smile he offers, thinking what a perfect combination of cute and sexy he looks standing there, bare-chested with a spatula in his hand.
“Don’t look so worried, I’ve gotten used to it over the past month. Compared to some nights, you were pretty quiet this morning.”
It’s at that moment I consider just throwing myself off his deck.
“I much prefer you sleeping deep and soundly enough you snore, than waking and having nightmares. You hungry?”
I let out a long breath and move towards the centre Island.
“Ren?” My eyes meet his. “You okay, you hungry?”
“Um, yeah, thanks.”
I need to find my phone and google cures for snoring, maybe go to the chemist and see if I can get something for it. Gabe doesn’t come across as too fazed, but I’m wondering what he really thinks. “Go sit down outside, I'll bring your brekkie out.”
I wander out onto the deck, visions of me wearing one of those face masks attached to a breathing machine in the coming years running though my head. Staring at the glass of orange juice on the table, I hope that maybe there’s some Prosecco mixed with it. It might make my headache worse, but if I drink enough, at least I won’t give a flying fuck about the snoring.
Taking a sip, I’m disappointed to find it’s plain OJ, and I just need to woman up and own the fact that I snore, like a boss.
Gabe appears, carrying plates loaded with scrambled eggs, bacon, mushrooms, and toast, I watch and wonder if he’s the sexiest waiter ever to have existed.
Despite the sunshine, it can’t be above fifteen degrees right now, and Gabe’s perfectly erect nipples display that he must be feeling that.
“You not cold?” I ask.
“Nah,” is all I get in response as he shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
“Why, are you? I can put the heater on. . .”
“No, no.” I smile at how quickly he offers to accommodate me. “It’s just not that warm, and you’re not wearing a shirt.”
“Does all this distract you?” He waves his open palm over his chest and abs, brows raised, lips pulled up into a smile as he waits for my answer.
“Hmm. All that skin on show, those bumpy things on your belly, that V thing you’ve got going on, it is kinda putting me off my breakfast a bit.”
“You are so full of shit, woman,” he says, eyes narrowed on me as he shakes his head.
The sound of a car engine running at the gates has us both turning that way. Due to the sun glare, I can’t see anything.
“You know anyone with a Golf?” Gabe asks.
“Yeah, Ryder.” I stand up as I answer, my son’s car now visible.
“Shit,” I say as I head back inside. “I need to put some clothes on. Let him in will you and put a bloody shirt on,” I call over my shoulder.
Ryder has checked in with me regularly since I’ve been here, but it’s been twice a day since meeting Gabe and finding out we’re in a relationship. He’d obviously got straight on the phone to Sonny, my eldest son, after we’d been at the house last Sunday because he’s called me a couple of times this week too, questioning me about what was going on.
“Far out, my mother’s a Cougar,” had basically been his reaction.
I don’t know if word has gotten back to Jay yet, or if he even knows I was at the house collecting my stuff. I assume he would’ve noticed the empty space in the wardrobe and bathroom, but who knows what’s going on with that man right now?
I pull on a pair of leggings, an oversized long-sleeved T, and my UGGs before heading back out to the family room, only to find Ryder sitting at the table on the deck next to Gabe, tucking into my breakfast as the pair of them chat.
I watch for a minute, my brain and my heart competing to work out how I feel about this, resulting in making me feel a little sick and lightheaded—or that could be the hangover, I’m not entirely sure.
“Hey,” I say to my kid as I step outside. “Everything okay?”
“Hey, Mum. Yeah, all good. Just thought I’d come and check my new dad’s looking after you right.”
I sit down in the chair next to him as I attempt to come up with a response. I look towards Gabe, expecting him to be wearing a look of horror, instead, he’s smiling while shaking his head at my son.
“New Dad, seriously? I’m what, ten years older than you?”
“Thirteen,” I blurt. “I’ve done the maths,” I add a little quieter. The men at the table both staring at me. I stare at Gabe’s chest, noting that it’s still bare. I’m about to remind him to put a shirt on when Ryder speaks.
“Thirteen, it happens. I know a kid who knocked some woman up at that age and became a dad. She was older though, his parents pushed to have her arrested because she was over eighteen, twenty-odd, I think. She ended up on the sex offenders register and everything.”
“That’s. . . that’s something else entirely. He was a minor,” I mumble. Feeling judged as I reach across for my orange juice.
My eyes meet Gabe’s and my stomach churns again with the way he’s looking at me.
“That’s not what we are,” he shakes his head and murmurs so quietly, I can barely make out the words.
“Great eggs,” Ryder continues. “You cook these?” he asks Gabe. “Mum’s a great cook, but her eggs aren’t this good.”
“Cheers, brat,” I reply to my child. “You just tuck into my breakfast while insulting my culinary skills. What are you doing here anyway?”
Putting the fork down, Ryder takes the glass I’m holding from me and drains the contents.
“Dad’s gone away,” he announces.
My head snaps back at the sudden mention of Jay.
“Gone away where?” I ask.
“He didn’t say. He messaged Monday saying he wouldn’t be coming into work for a couple of days. . .”
“Does he know I was at the house?” I interrupt him and ask.
“He didn’t say. He just said he had a few things to sort out and wouldn’t be in, then he messaged Wednesday and said he needed a bit of time away, he’d been drinking too much lately and was gonna book himself in somewhere, get himself straight, and then when he gets back, he’s gonna work on sorting everything out with you.”
“What?” I ask, my voice high-pitched with incredulity.
“That’s what he said?” Gabe asks. “You don’t know where he’s gone?” he continues without giving Ryder a chance to answer.
“Yeah, and no, he didn’t say.”
“I’ve spoken to you since Wednesday. Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask.
I know my kid, and the long sigh and the look he gives me with brown eyes so much like his father’s, I know that there’s more to this.
“Mum. . . “
“Just tell me, Ryde.”
Ryder looks from me to Gabe, his knee bounces under the table as his fingers tap on top of it.
“I know shit’s happened between you two, but he’s still my dad, and I’m worried. I’ve not. . .”
“You don’t ever have to take sides, Ryde, I’d never make you choose, not ever,” I tell my son. My voice sounding thick as it clogs with tears.
Ryder studies me for a moment, his own eyes shining.
“I’ve not heard from him since Wednesday and I’m worried,” he says quietly.
The queasiness I felt earlier is nothing compared to how I feel now. My insides churn and my skin prickles with what I’ve learned lately is fear.
I may no longer want to remain married to Jason East, I don’t like or respect the man, and my brain may have stopped loving him, but he’s still the father of my children and the man I’ve spent almost twenty-seven years of my life with, and my heart hasn’t caught up with all of that yet.
“He wouldn’t do anything stupid,” I attempt to reassure my son. “How did he sound?”
“Yeah, he did sound a bit down. He said he knew he’d fucked things up between you, but he needed to do some work on himself before trying to sort things out.”
I so want that not to affect me, for it not to hurt my heart or have my eyes brimming with tears. For just a few minutes, I want to be a cold-hearted bitch who feels nothing. But I’m not, and so it hurts like a mother fucker!
“If he’s booked himself in somewhere, they’ve probably taken his phone off him,” Gabe adds. “Even the places you go to voluntarily make you do that.”
I wonder for a moment how he knows this before refocusing my attention back on Ryder.
“Gabe’s right, but ya know what, Ryde, if you’re that worried, if it’d make you feel better, call into the police station and tell them what you’ve told us.” I reach across the table and take hold of my boy’s hand as I speak, and he gives mine a squeeze.
“Yeah, wouldn’t hurt I suppose,” Ryder replies.
A phone rings from inside the house, and I know from the ring tone, it’s Gabe’s. He makes his excuses and heads inside. I sit in silence, staring out at the bay as my son sits beside me.
“You okay, Mum, I mean really okay?”
Chewing at the skin on the corner of my thumb for a few seconds, I continue watching the waves lap at the sand before shifting my gaze to my kid.
“I really am,” I tell him. “The first few weeks were awful. I felt like I was in mourning, but the last couple of weeks have been better, I feel calmer.”
“And he’s looking after you?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” I say with an emphatic nod.
“The blokes at work are talking. They know you’ve split, but I’ve not said anything about the reason why.”
“Just let them think I’m the baddie, that I’ve left him for Gabe. At least for now, while he sorts his shit out.”
“Thanks, Mum. I don’t support him in any way, but I also don’t wanna lose clients over his behaviour.”
“I get it, Ryde; I totally get it. The reason I never went to the police in the first place was to protect you and Sonny, as well as the business.”
“That’s different. If you’d have told us while it was happening, we would’ve told you to report it, but you’re away from him now. You’ve got Gabe, and you’re safe.”
We’re both quiet for another moment before I speak. “It’s mental, how much has changed.”
