Page 40 of Gabriel (Legacy of Heathens #4)

Amara

T he breeze swept through the open cabin window, along with occasional laughter from Elira, who seemed to still be actively entertaining herself with one of the crew.

Gabriel’s chest rose and fell beneath my heavy head. Beyond the cabin walls, the sea stretched endlessly, dark and still as silk.

The scent of salt and skin, sandalwood, sharp citrus, and our lust clung to the walls, the sheets, and the space between our bare skin.

My body still buzzed, trembling in places I hadn’t even known had been clenched from release. From surrender.

Gabriel lay beside me on his back, mostly dressed save for the shirt I’d half peeled from his body in a frenzy I barely remembered.

The fabric lay wrinkled, untucked, and his hair was tousled from my fingers.

Faint red marks circled his wrists, where I’d dug my fingernails in with achy, desperate need that I’d never felt before.

I’d removed his cuffs after I came back to earth following my climax, and we were now left with only the echo of restraint. The memory of surrender.

I pulled the sheet up to my chest but didn’t move away. I physically couldn’t. Not yet.

I worried if I did, the bubble we’d surrounded ourselves in would burst.

He turned his head toward me. Even in the low amber glow of the bedside lamp, his eyes found mine like they always did, and this time I didn’t look away. I wanted his eyes on me; in fact, I craved them.

“I don’t regret it,” I whispered, the words trembling between us. “Do you?”

“Not a chance,” he said, voice like gravel rolled in velvet. “It’s the best damn thing that’s happened to me in as long as I can remember.”

My eyes flicked downward, lingering on the sharp outline of his erection beneath the sheet. A smile curved across my lips. “Should we do something about that?”

He let out a strangled laugh that rolled through me like sea waves.

“Amara,” he said, voice hoarse, “I’m not a saint. Saying no to you is not in my nature. But… a part of me thinks you’re not ready.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Okay,” I admitted, “but that could be why I need you.”

And maybe it wasn’t just about need. Maybe it was about the fact that my heart was making decisions on its own. Maybe my soul had started to trust this man, although I wasn’t ready to admit—nor voice—the growing, nagging feelings that something was off with Jet’s request to snatch Gabriel.

His eyes flickered full of storm and want. The space between us buzzed with it. This wasn’t just about the night. It was about what we’d risked by crossing the line, and what might come next.

I reached for him, brushing my fingertips along his jaw. His stubble was rough under my touch, and he leaned into it like he needed the contact more than air.

“Whatever happens,” he whispered, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

“Is it okay if I… touch you?” I asked.

“Please,” he grunted and I let my fingers wander the angles of his face. I wanted to know every hard ridge of him— everything about him—and that should have alarmed me, but it didn’t.

I curled closer, resting my cheek against his chest. His heartbeat thudded beneath my ear, anchoring me.

“Gabriel,” I whispered, letting his name settle on my tongue like a confession. “Gabriel Santos.”

He turned slightly, a teasing smile forming as his eyes met mine.

“I like the way you say my name,” he murmured. “Better not go back to calling me Santos.”

There was a softness in his tone, a warning wrapped in affection, almost as if the name wasn’t just his, but also mine to keep, if I dared.

“Fine. But if you piss me off, it’s back to Santos. Full name. No mercy.”

He laughed, shifting closer so the warmth of him bled into my skin.

“If you’re pissed off, just kiss me and we’ll make up before it can come to that,” he purred. “You have no idea, Amara, what I’d do for you. I’d give you anything you want.”

A faint and unexpected blush touched his cheeks, and something fluttered inside me. I leaned up and kissed him once, lingering there.

“What?” he said. “Pissed off already?”

I chuckled. “No. I was just testing it. I like it.”

He held my gaze, something unreadable swimming behind those eyes.

“Good,” he said. “Because once you start, it’s hard to stop.”

A shiver rolled down my spine. This was real. Potentially complicated. And there was no going back.

Although, judging by my sister’s recent behavior, I didn’t think Elira would want me to deny this affection—or whatever it was—toward him. She’d been nothing but encouraging when it came to flirting with Gabriel, and the odds were she knew where I was and what I was doing.

“So, what happens now?” He smiled again, and it was devastating .

I hesitated, caught somewhere between caution and instinct. “What do you mean?”

“I already told you, I want to help you. I’m not only eager to protect Anya and Sailor, but you too. So for the love of God, let me help you.”

“I don’t know what help you could give me.

We’re so deep into this—whatever this is anymore—that I’m not even sure what help I need.

” I looked down at his shirt, fingers absently tracing the fabric bunched at his waist. “I just want to help my brother and protect my siblings from whatever is going on.”

He didn’t answer right away. The heavy silence stretched until he finally broke it. “You’ll learn to trust me, Amara. Just wait and see.”

I pulled back just enough to study his face. His jaw was tight, his eyes steady.

“You let me in,” he said, voice lower now. “So let me be in. Let me be whatever you need me to be. Just don’t shut me out.”

The honesty in his expression made my heart drum with ache. Not the painful kind, but the kind that recognized something in him that demanded I cave into it.

“I don’t know what to make of this… of us.” I hesitated before I continued. “This whole thing with Jet unsettles me. You, him, all this… It scares me.”

His mouth twitched. “Good.”

I blinked. “What?”

“If it scares you, it means we’re moving in the right direction and you’re paying attention.”

“Paying attention to what?”

“To what this is,” he said. “And what it could cost.”

My throat tightened. “Are you threatening me?”

“No.” His voice softened. “It’s a promise. I’m not here to hurt you, Amara. But I won’t pretend this thing between us doesn’t come with risk for both of us, especially since those Satan twins are playing a game and neither one of us knows the rules.”

“Santos—” He growled and I let out a heavy sigh. “Gabriel, don’t start with that. You’re being unreasonable when it comes to my siblings.”

He pushed himself upright beside me.

“I’m not,” he said. “Though part of me hopes, for your sake, that your trust in them isn’t misplaced. But if it is, and soon you see them for what they are… I hope you’ll let me be there for you. That you’ll choose me.”

And for the first time, I saw the fracture in Gabriel. The longing to be chosen, even if it terrified him.

“I didn’t come here for this,” I whispered, although suspicion and hesitation waved through my emotions of loyalty to my siblings. It started to feel like I was flying blind, and my trust in everything we were doing started to waver.

“I know,” he said, voice like a promise. “But you’re here now.”

And God help me, I was, but I wasn’t ready to dwell on it. So I did the only other thing I knew would completely distract him and me.

I lifted my head, breath catching in my throat, and met his gaze. His eyes—dark blue and bottomless—reminded me of paradise, not the peaceful kind sung about in lullabies, but the wild, aching kind that tempts you to fall and never look back.

He didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. And in that stillness, I felt claimed—like I was already his, body and soul.

I closed the last inch between us. My lips brushed against his, a question shaped in touch rather than words. The taste of him lingered in the air—warm, familiar, intoxicating.

“I-I want to make you feel good,” I whispered against his mouth, the syllables trembling with need, with the weight of everything I wasn’t sure how to say. “I want to taste you.”

His eyes darkened. It wasn’t lust that flickered there—it was something deeper, something that curled around my spine and made my pulse stutter. That look alone had my skin humming, my body alive with anticipation.

He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. His silence was louder than words—inviting, daring, pulling me closer into the gravity of him.

And I was already falling.

I began to move down his body, my hands mapping the lines of his torso like I was memorizing him by touch. His eyes followed every movement, heavy with anticipation.

His muscles were strung tight beneath me, as if holding himself back took more effort than he wanted to admit. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze said everything—hungry, reverent, barely contained.

He burned for me. I felt it with every inch I descended.

The quiet inside the cabin pulsed with the sound of our breathing.

Holding his stare, I slipped my fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans and boxers, easing them down over the curve of his hips and along the firm lines of his thighs.

The denim rasped softly against his skin, the movement deliberate, unhurried.

He shifted on the bed, raising his hips in quiet cooperation, the mattress creaking under his weight as the clothes slid past his knees and down his calves.

My fingers trembled slightly as they found him, wrapping around his smooth, velvet heat. His reaction was immediate as his hips jerked upward, and a sharp inhale broke free from his lips. I glanced up instinctively.

His jaw was taut, eyes half-lidded, the muscles in his neck flexing. He wasn’t speaking, but his body was loud in its silence. Still, something in his expression told me he was holding back.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t stop, preciosa ,” he rasped, pressing the words like a command that stirred something wild inside me.

I wrapped my hand around him, steadying myself. I began to pump him, feeling the heat and tension coil tighter with every movement. His hips lifted instinctively, pressing harder into my palm, seeking more contact, more relief. The pulse of his desire beneath my touch only worked to spur me on.

I slowed slightly, wanting to savor the moment, to drink in every flicker of expression that crossed his face.

Precum glistened at the top of his shaft, making my mouth water. I leaned in and drew my tongue out, licking the tip of him.

His breath hitched sharply, an intake that vibrated through his chest. His eyes locked on to mine, dark and wild, full of need.

I licked him again, all the way from the base to the tip, and a guttural groan slipped past his lips.

“Suck,” he rasped, his hips thrusting up until his cock hit the back of my throat.

I hated being bossed around, but right now, with Gabriel, it only sent a hum of satisfaction up my throat. So I obeyed, running my tongue around the head as if he were a lollipop before I sucked him into my mouth.

“ Carajo ,” he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows and I knew this—him at my mercy—would be my addiction.

My hands came to his muscular thighs and I carved my nails into him, all the while bobbing my head up and down.

My nipples brushed against his thighs and sparks of pleasure fluttered through me, my pussy clenching for more.

I sucked him harder, wanting to reciprocate the same pleasure he gave me.

I took more of him in my mouth, letting his cock glide in and out and knock against the back of my throat. He thrust his hips into my mouth, and if my mind had been clear, I’d marvel at the way he’d taken control of my body without ever touching me.

My body hummed while heat bloomed in my stomach, moving lower, wishing he were deep inside me. I had to squeeze my thighs together to ease the dull ache.

“Look at me, preciosa ,” he ordered roughly, and my gaze instantly flicked to him. “My Amara. You look so fucking good with my cock down your throat.”

He pushed himself deeper and I gagged but refused to let go, relaxing my muscles and letting him fuck my mouth.

Dark whispers of devotion, laced with aching desire and a hunger I could neither name nor deny, curled through me, settling deep in the marrow of my being.

“Can I come in your mouth?” he asked and I hummed my agreement.

A heartbeat later, a deep, primal groan rumbled from the depths of his chest as he came hard, his cum shooting inside my mouth. I stayed with him, swallowing every drop, savoring the way he surrendered so completely.

His cock slid out of my mouth with a soft pop.

Our breathing came in ragged, uneven bursts—loud in the quiet room, though not nearly as loud as the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I rose slowly onto my knees, settling between his parted, powerful thighs, my gaze locked on his. The air between us crackled with something raw and wordless.

His fingers brushed my chin with a gentleness that contradicted the heat still radiating from his body. He wiped away the lingering cum, then brought those same fingers to my lips. I parted them without hesitation, tasting him again as he watched me with dark, possessive intensity.

He’d given me all the control, handed it over like an offering, but somehow, I still felt like I was the one unraveling. Like he’d had me all along.