Page 32 of Desired By you (Always & Forever #3)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Gabriella

We left the party in a rush. Brad seemed pretty tense and was silent the entire car ride back to his apartment.

I have so many questions, but I’m too scared to ask.

I know Brad has a past that he doesn’t share.

I’ve always found that part of him intriguing.

How he can go from being stern and cold, and then soft and gentle and then back again has always made me wonder what led to him being this way.

We pull into the underground car park, and Brad’s phone begins ringing.

He exits the car and I’ve taken enough car rides with him now to know he will always expect me to wait so he can open my door.

He gestures that he will be a moment and walks away.

My phone begins vibrating in my purse, and I pull it out, my body tensing when I see Patrick’s name flash across the screen for the third time today.

I look over my shoulder and see Brad is deep in conversation, so I swipe the screen and bring it to my ear.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Gabby, it’s Patrick. I was about to send out a search party for you. You keep dodging my calls.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been super busy, but what’s up? Everything okay?”

“I wanted to arrange that date we keep saying we’ll do. Are you free tonight?”

I take a second to think. Do I want to go on a date with Patrick?

I glance over at Brad and instantly my heart races.

He’s the epitome of tall, dark, handsome, and a little dangerous.

Then there’s Patrick, who, to be fair to him, is really trying, and maybe I should give him a second chance.

This situation with Brad was meant to boost my confidence and help me get out there, but that’s all this. I can’t get attached to Brad.

“Yeah, sure, sounds great,” I say.

“Great, I’ll pick you up at eight.

“Great, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Gabby.” I end the call to find Brad is right behind me. I jump, nearly dropping my phone.

“Oh, my god,” I shriek, my voice echoing around the underground car park.

Brad's eyes narrow and his jaw ticks. “Who was that?”

I think about lying, telling him it was Ali or Ria, but a really twisted part of me wants to see his reaction. “Patrick. He’s taking me out for dinner tonight.”

“How lovely,” he says through gritted teeth as his jaw tightens.

I follow him into the elevator.

“I don’t have my car here. Could you drop me back to my apartment, or I can take a cab?”

“I’ll take you home. I have another call to make first.” His responses are short and clipped.

We exit the elevator, and he lets us inside his apartment.

I don’t take more than three steps before he grips my hips, spinning me and pinning me to the wall.

My purse and its contents clatter to the floor, and he’s on me.

His large hands slide into my hair and tug at the root, pulling a moan from my throat.

His lips meet mine, and our tongues collide as the kiss becomes frantic.

My fingers fist his shirt so vigorously that I’m close to tearing it from his skin.

This kiss feels different. It’s as if he’s claiming me, getting lost in me to quieten whatever noise is plaguing him, and I want to be that for him.

He begins to slow the kiss, and I let him lead.

I am his, and I’d let him have me in any way he wants or needs.

That thought should scare me, make me run for the hills, but it doesn’t, because it all feels different with him.

Our lips part, and he presses his forehead to mine, his erratic breathing matching my own. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he rasps. “I just needed to...”

“What?”

“I just needed to get lost in you for a second,” he admits.

I swallow hard, lost for words at his confession. He lifts his head. His whiskey eyes look more haunted than usual, and it pains me to see he’s struggling with something. I want to take it all away for him.

“You can talk to me,” I reassure. He closes his eyes.

“Look at me,” I say, cupping his face. “Talk to me.” His body softens, and he takes me by the hand and walks us over to his leather couch that wasn’t here the last time I was here .

I sit beside him, curling my legs underneath me.

He never lets go of my hand, trailing his index finger over the back in intricate circles.

I wait for him to begin, not wanting to force something he isn’t ready to share.

“Going to my mom’s house is always hard.” His voice is so low I almost miss what he says.

“My full name is Marco Bradley Russo. Bradley is after my grandfather on my mom’s side.

Growing up, my dad was into some bad shit.

He was an evil man. Beat my mom, beat us, ruled the house with an iron fist. Long story short, there was an incident.

I was meant to be there with Matteo, but I didn’t show up. Him and my dad went down for murder.”

I try to hide my shock, but the gasp falls from my lips. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and lean my cheek against his head, letting him know I’m here.

“They went down for a long time. My mom sat me and my younger brother down and said we had two options: we end up like my dad and Matteo, or we join the military and build a new life. So that’s what we did.

I dropped the name Russo and went with Bradley, and eventually, I just became Brad.

I just wanted to disconnect from that name, that life, that world.

I struggled a lot, fighting for control.

It’s why I am the way I am. I have to be like this or I’ll… ”

He stops and I hold him tightly, my eyes welling with unshed tears. My heart is fit to burst, knowing he feels safe enough to open up to me. There is so much more to Brad than most realize.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I say softly. “I can’t imagine how hard that was growing up like that and going through all that.”

He brushes his knuckles against my cheek, and my eyes flutter shut at the warmth of his touch.

“I have to go to LA tomorrow for a few days. Come with me.” It’s not a question, more of a plea, and I don’t even have to think about my answer.

“Okay.”

I sit across the table from Patrick in a swanky steak and cocktail bar in the middle of Times Square.

It has white table cloths and little lamps on the tables and soft jazz music in the background, drowning out the conversations happening around us.

We have an incredible view of the city, which has been a great distraction as he talks about his job and his plans to own a law firm one day.

I admire a man with career goals and a life plan, but there is just something about him that doesn’t get me going.

He’s a nice enough guy, but I don’t feel the spark.

He doesn’t give me butterflies when he smiles, he doesn’t make me ache for him when we are apart, he doesn’t have me hoping it’s him every time my phone rings.

No, Patrick doesn’t do those things for me, but a man who will never fully be mine does and I need to get over that before my heart gets broken.

“Thank you for giving me another chance to take you out. I’m sorry If I was a bit of dick on our last date. Being around a woman as beautiful as you can get a guy all twisted up inside.”

A blush flushes my cheeks. Okay, that was a little swoony.

“You’re welcome. I’ve had a great time tonight,” I lie.

I’ve worn a black spaghetti strap dress I borrowed from Ali’s closet.

It’s a little more revealing than I would usually go for, but in the spirit of trying new things and trying to break from my shell, I took a risk and Patrick’s roaming eyes have made it very clear that the dress is a hit.

“I’d love to take you out again. What are you doing tomorrow?” Patrick asks as he signals the waiter for the check.

I’m going to LA with Brad. “I am going away with a couple of girlfriends.”

“Nice, where are you going?” The waiter places the leather bill holder in front of Patrick, and he pulls out his wallet, slips his black Amex card inside it and hands it back to the waiter who leaves with it.

“LA, my friend has an audition with a new dance company, so we are going with her for support.” The lie slips off my tongue so easily, but then again, I’ve been lying and people pleasing all my life. What’s one more.

Patrick nods, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his fists. “I like you, Gabby, and I want to see you again, so how about I whisk you away when you get back from your trip? I have a place in the Hamptons we can go for the weekend.”

I blink rapidly, trying to think of an answer. I don’t think I’m ready to go away with him. It feels too soon. I don’t note how easily it was for me to say yes to going to LA with Brad. I don’t have time to unpack that because Patrick is waiting for an answer from me and giving me puppy dog eyes.

Ugh. No, not the puppy dog eyes.

“Can I call you when I get back and we a make a plan then?”

“Sure, I look forward to your call.”

To my surprise, Patrick shuffles in his seat and edges it towards mine.

He reaches for my chair and tugs it towards his, and suddenly his mouth his on mine.

I go with it. When his tongue pushes through my lips, I open, and instantly, a feeling of betrayal washes over me.

I feel like I’m cheating on Brad. But we aren’t anything.

I’m not Brad’s, and he isn’t mine, and that idea hurts my heart.

I break the kiss and pull away, clearing my throat.

I need to sort out my head and my heart and get them on the same frequency before someone gets hurt, because I think that someone is me.