Page 83
Story: The Heiress's First Date
He smirks as he puts his bowl into the microwave. “We’ll just have to return the favor.”
Then he’s off in search of wine glasses, leaving my jaw on the floor. Return the favor? An image immediately flashes into my mind. Gabe spread out naked on a big bed, a sheet carefully covering his cock, that sultry smirk gracing his lips.
Shit.
My dick presses against my zipper, so needy and aching to be touched.
“Have you thought about where you want to go on your date?” he asks, returning with two goblets, unaware of my torment.
It’s all delightfully domestic. A glittering city sits outside the windows, with soft lighting inside, setting a cozy mood. He pours me a glass of vino as if we do this all the time. This is our life together.
I swirl the wine, focusing on the rich burgundy color. “Yeah. I’d actually like to go back to Greece. We took a trip there a few years ago, and it was incredible.”
It would have been more incredible if I hadn’t been fighting a hard-on for two-thirds of the week.
“You?” I ask.
He settles onto a stool at the end of the island, a steaming bowl in front of him.
“Well, Paris and Greece are out,” he says, a hint of wry humor lacing his words.
“It’s a big world.”
Gabe’s fork pauses in midair, and he turns toward me. “When did you become so wise?”
I stare into my wine, Marko’s words drifting through my mind.What are you waiting for?
“The night I decided to come home.”
Home. Huh. I haven’t thought of New York as home for almost a decade. It’s the chaos castle where most of my family resides, where my best friend lives, where my desires felt too out of place. Too weird. Too stifled.
I’m tossed back to a week ago, when I first returned, and Katherine, in her enthusiasm, had almost said, ‘I didn’t know you were coming home.’ But she’d stopped herself. Because she knows me, knows how I feel about New York and elevators and...
None of that matters anymore, though. Yes, I still hate little metal boxes that I can’t see out of. But this feeling ofbelongingsurpasses that discomfort and fear and anxiety.
Katherine is home. The way her eyes light up when she sees me. The instant opening of her arms. The way she knows me and accepts me, cheers me on. The way she loves me and forgives me.
“You okay?” Gabe asks and I glance over, seeing he’s polished off his meal.
“Yeah.” I really am. I mean, am I still conflicted over my attraction to the man next to me? One hundred percent. But there’s also a peace I haven’t felt in a long time.
Gabe
I take a sip, savoring the bouquet. Every time I blink, I see that picture of Katherine, and my blood heats.
I can’t believe I was about to kiss her best friend.
I mean, I can. Because it’s so fucking fun to make her melt, and he’s the epitome of fun-loving. And they’re both hot enough to boil water. Seriously, no one should look so sexy swirling wine, but King is a work of art.
Every movement. Every smirk of those full lips. That casual nonchalance.
I push away from the countertop and put my dishes in the washer. “Ready for part two?” I ask.
Those soft, green eyes meet mine, and parts of me spin around in glee. A month ago, hell, twenty-four hours ago, I was sure I needed my head examined. But now I’ve woken up from that fog.
This is right where I’m meant to be and who I’m meant to be with.
Living a life that’s anything but ordinary because I’ve carved it out for myself. The money, the status, the apartment, the friendships.
Then he’s off in search of wine glasses, leaving my jaw on the floor. Return the favor? An image immediately flashes into my mind. Gabe spread out naked on a big bed, a sheet carefully covering his cock, that sultry smirk gracing his lips.
Shit.
My dick presses against my zipper, so needy and aching to be touched.
“Have you thought about where you want to go on your date?” he asks, returning with two goblets, unaware of my torment.
It’s all delightfully domestic. A glittering city sits outside the windows, with soft lighting inside, setting a cozy mood. He pours me a glass of vino as if we do this all the time. This is our life together.
I swirl the wine, focusing on the rich burgundy color. “Yeah. I’d actually like to go back to Greece. We took a trip there a few years ago, and it was incredible.”
It would have been more incredible if I hadn’t been fighting a hard-on for two-thirds of the week.
“You?” I ask.
He settles onto a stool at the end of the island, a steaming bowl in front of him.
“Well, Paris and Greece are out,” he says, a hint of wry humor lacing his words.
“It’s a big world.”
Gabe’s fork pauses in midair, and he turns toward me. “When did you become so wise?”
I stare into my wine, Marko’s words drifting through my mind.What are you waiting for?
“The night I decided to come home.”
Home. Huh. I haven’t thought of New York as home for almost a decade. It’s the chaos castle where most of my family resides, where my best friend lives, where my desires felt too out of place. Too weird. Too stifled.
I’m tossed back to a week ago, when I first returned, and Katherine, in her enthusiasm, had almost said, ‘I didn’t know you were coming home.’ But she’d stopped herself. Because she knows me, knows how I feel about New York and elevators and...
None of that matters anymore, though. Yes, I still hate little metal boxes that I can’t see out of. But this feeling ofbelongingsurpasses that discomfort and fear and anxiety.
Katherine is home. The way her eyes light up when she sees me. The instant opening of her arms. The way she knows me and accepts me, cheers me on. The way she loves me and forgives me.
“You okay?” Gabe asks and I glance over, seeing he’s polished off his meal.
“Yeah.” I really am. I mean, am I still conflicted over my attraction to the man next to me? One hundred percent. But there’s also a peace I haven’t felt in a long time.
Gabe
I take a sip, savoring the bouquet. Every time I blink, I see that picture of Katherine, and my blood heats.
I can’t believe I was about to kiss her best friend.
I mean, I can. Because it’s so fucking fun to make her melt, and he’s the epitome of fun-loving. And they’re both hot enough to boil water. Seriously, no one should look so sexy swirling wine, but King is a work of art.
Every movement. Every smirk of those full lips. That casual nonchalance.
I push away from the countertop and put my dishes in the washer. “Ready for part two?” I ask.
Those soft, green eyes meet mine, and parts of me spin around in glee. A month ago, hell, twenty-four hours ago, I was sure I needed my head examined. But now I’ve woken up from that fog.
This is right where I’m meant to be and who I’m meant to be with.
Living a life that’s anything but ordinary because I’ve carved it out for myself. The money, the status, the apartment, the friendships.
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