Page 61 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

I felt the same. My hips rose and he stroked fuller, harder, deeper.

We found our rhythm and everything else melted away. It was just us, fully in the moment.

Gabriel’s back muscles flexing under my hands.

His hot breath on my neck, his voice whispering in my ear, “You’re perfect. You’re everything I dreamed you’d be.”

My legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back, body writhing beneath him.

His calloused hands brushing up my sides, caressing my skin, sliding into my hair.

My hand reaching up to touch his face, my palm on his cheekbone, my fingers brushing dark locks of hair off his sweaty forehead.

His sharp hip bones grinding against me as I rose up and up and up, the only sound in my ears skin slapping against skin and our ragged breaths, and then he flipped us over and sat up, pulling me into his lap. I sank down on him as he reached down to where we were joined, his fingers stroking as he filled me up, and I came again, raking his back, my short nails leaving their mark and he kissed my lips.

My back hit the ground and he draped one leg over his shoulder and drove into me so hard and so fast, my breath caught in my throat.

When Gabriel came, spilling inside me, he threw his head back like he was in pain and then he collapsed on top of me and nuzzled his face in my hair, and I thought,So this is how it’s supposed to feel.

Turns out sex wasn’t overrated. I’d just never been with anyone who knew how to play my body the way Gabriel did. Like he already knew without being told that this is what it took to turn me on.

“La petite mort,” I said, staring at the ceiling and wondering why we had sex in the hallway when I had a perfectly good bed.

“Look at you and your fancy French.” Gabriel rolled onto his side and propped his head up, looking down at me. “I never slept with her,” he said, tracing my kiss-bruised lips with his fingertip. “How could I? I was waiting for you.”

It took a few seconds for my brain to catch up but when it did, I smothered him in kisses and led him to my bedroom for round two.

This time, he took me from behind and I moaned like a porn star. The louder I was, the more turned on he got and the longer he drew it out.

Sex with Gabriel lasted a lot longer than his ode to an orgasm song.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

After the third time,we took turns taking showers and now we were lounging on my bed, me in his Jimi Hendrix T-shirt and him in boxers.

I’d never felt more sated or content in my life. I was basking in the afterglow. If I had a cigarette, I’d smoke it.

Spring rain pattered against the window pane and blew in from the open window. It smelled fresh and clean and earthy.

I nuzzled my nose against the side of Gabriel’s neck and breathed him in. He smelled like my body wash and Herbal Essence shampoo. My leg was draped over his waist and his fingers drew lazy designs on my flesh. I thought maybe he was writing words but couldn’t make out what they were. Song lyrics. Or a secret message, maybe.

From the living room, Leonard Cohen was singing about getting head on his unmade bed in the Chelsea Hotel. Gabriel thought Leonard Cohen was brilliant. A true poet.

The lyrics were on the dirty side, and I suddenly remembered that only one of us had upheld our end of the bargain.

“Hey.” I propped my head up and looked down at his face. He was so beautiful in the moonlight with his shower-damphair slicked back. Pure symmetry. “You never told me your dirty secret.”

“Not sure I can top yours, Artful Dodger.” Gabriel squeezed my thigh, probably trying to distract me.

I poked his chest. “A deal’s a deal.”

He plumped up the pillows under his head and squinted at the opposite wall. “Okay, time for a dirty secret.” He paused dramatically and left me hanging for a few seconds. With all the build-up, I was expecting something really juicy. “You’re my dirty secret.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s cheating.”

“How is it cheating?” He held up his hand. “Okay, okay. I’ve got another one.”

“I hope it’s as shameful as mine.”