Page 24

Chapter 24

Gabi

J acob’s lips crash into mine, and I lose myself in the warmth of his kiss. Our breaths tangle, the world narrowing down to just him and me. Every ounce of doubt evaporates like mist under the sun. I’m anchored here, as if his love is the gravity that holds me steady.

His hands slide to my waist, lifting me effortlessly. A soft gasp escapes my lips as he cradles me in his arms. That fractured wrist of his is still healing, but everything about him feels strong and solid.

He feels like a rock, a potential safe haven...

In one smooth motion, he starts carrying me up the staircase. My head nestles against his shoulder, and I let my gaze wander over the walls.

Pictures of Gio and me stare back—captured smiles that hide the loneliness beneath. Then there are our parents, grinning in snapshots from Paris, Cairo, Tokyo—places they’d ventured without a second thought about us.

To them, we were an afterthought, a footnote in the story of their glamorous lives.

But not to Jacob. Not a word he says, not a touch he offers, feels less than genuine.

It feels like with him...I could be a priority. If only I could just let go.

If only I were another woman, with another family, maybe I could.

Instead, I'm Gabriella De Luca—a woman with a PR career to look out for, a brother who loves her, a grandmother who spoils her, and a soon-to-be newborn child who will need her. Life is never simple.

But, in this moment, with Jacob's lips on mine, I let myself forget all of that.

I'm just Gabi. A woman in love.

And it feels like there's nothing else in the world.

I cling to Jacob as he carries me into my old room, our slow kisses pairing with the sound of our footsteps. He sets me down gently on his bed and pulls away for a moment to look at me.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to tell you how I feel," he whispers, brushing away a stray strand of hair from my face.

"I think I might have an idea," I reply with a smirk, feeling bold under his intense gaze.

He smiles before leaning in to kiss me again, and everything else just fades away.

He trails kisses down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hands roam over my body, igniting every nerve and making my heart race.

In a haze of sensation, I find myself backing into my childhood bedroom—this sanctuary of my youth, where Nonna's laughter still echoes from the walls and the faint aroma of her homemade ravioli lingers. Jacob's presence fills the room, making it feel smaller, and more intimate, as though even the furniture remembers him from the past.

His hands deftly work the buttons of my blouse, each one that gives way causing my galloping emotions to swell within me. My breath catches as I feel the edge of the bed against the back of my legs. It’s the same bed where I used to dream about far-off places and futures so grand. But they now pale in comparison to this very moment.

Jacob's eyes meet mine, a glint of clever interest blending into something deeper, almost reverent. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Nervous? Only that I won't be able to view my IKEA childhood furniture the same way again.”

He grins, banishing any lingering doubt.

We collapse together onto the bed, an unspoken agreement to let history and memory merge with the present.

Our kisses deepen, becoming more frantic, more desperate.

The room, filled with relics of my innocence—stuffed animals, old school trophies—watches silently as we create something unmistakably new and adult.

I laugh softly, his hands sparking shivers across my skin. "If Nonna knew what we were doing here..."

"She’d probably insist we get married the next morning," he chuckles. But his mirth turns to a low growl as he presses closer, whispering against my lips. "But that won't stop me."

The air seems thicker, charged.

My world condenses into the sensation of Jacob.

His heartbeat. His warmth. His every touch.

Here, in this room laden with my past, we carve out a space for the future, one kiss, one caress at a time.

The material of my dress slides sensually over my skin as Jacob starts to peel it away, but he halts mid-motion, a flicker of realization crossing his face.

"Hold up," he mutters, glancing down at the grimy evidence of tonight's game still clinging to him. Dirt streaks his arms, dried sweat marks his shirt, and I can only imagine the state of his hair. "I can't do this to your dress—or your bed."

I'm a bit breathless as I respond. "Got a better idea?"

"How about we relocate to a slightly more washable location?"

Before I can answer, he's already hoisting me into his arms, his grip strong yet careful, as if I'm something precious.

He carries me effortlessly, navigating through the jumbled maze of childhood nostalgia scattered across my floor, and nudges open the door to the bathroom with his foot. The lights flick on, revealing a modest space that suddenly seems charged with potential.

Jacob grins down at me, his eyes promising mischief. "Now, where were we?"

He lets me down gently, and for a moment, I wobble, trying to regain my balance. He doesn’t waste a second. With that same determined look, he twists the shower knob. Water gushes out, quickly steaming up the small bathroom. I can't help but let out a giggle as he turns back to me, already peeling off the remnants of my dress with deliberate slowness, as if unwrapping a long-anticipated gift.

"Hold still," he murmurs, and I do, although my heart races. My pulse thrums in my ears, drowning out the noise of the shower. His fingers work skillfully, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The dress falls away, and I'm left standing there, utterly exposed and strangely elated.

Jacob's eyes roam over me, dark with something primal, yet soft with something deeper.

"Your turn," I say, reaching for his shirt.

He complies, stripping off each layer until he's as bare as I am.

It's a sight I don't think I could ever tire of.

Strong shoulders. Tapered waist. Large hands. Thick cock.

Jacob in his purest form. All raw strength and tenderness combined.

Guiding me toward the warm cascade of water, Jacob steps in first, pulling me in close with him. The wall of heat engulfs us, but it’s his touch that keeps me burning. Keeps me wanting more.

We spend what feels like an eternity under the hot spray, lost in each other's touch and taste.

Reaching for the body wash, he pours the gooey substance into his own open palms.

Within seconds, Jacob lathers up his hands, running them over his gloriously muscled body as I watch, spellbound.

He then turns his attention to me, running his soaped-up hands over my shoulders with slow, deliberate strokes. The warmth of his touch and the slickness of the soap combine to make my skin tingle.

When he reaches my breasts, he pauses for the briefest moment, thumbs flicking over my nipples until they pebble under his touch.

"Hold still," he repeats in a murmur, his voice a velvety caress.

If only holding still was that simple.

With the way he’s touching me, holding still makes it nearly impossible.

Moving to my hair, he grabs a bottle of shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. His fingers work through my locks, massaging the shampoo into a luxurious lather.

His strong fingers kneading my scalp, sending waves of relaxation—and arousal—through me.

His hands don’t stop at my hair, though. They glide down my body, the suds sliding with ease over my skin. When his fingers find my clit and start rubbing, I let out an involuntary moan.

His touch is both gentle and demanding, coaxing every nerve ending to life.

Under Jacob's careful touch, the world fades away, leaving only the heat of the water, the slick slide of his touch, and the electric charge between us.

Jacob doesn’t rush.

He takes his time exploring every inch of me with an intensity that sets my pulse racing. Each touch, each caress, building the tension higher and higher until I think I might just shatter.

And I want to.

Here, now, in this steamy cocoon we’ve created together. In this bubble where nothing else matters but the moment.

His touch moves lower, gliding over my hips, and then, with a swiftness that leaves me breathless, Jacob backs me against the tiled wall. The coolness of the ceramic makes me gasp. It’s a contrast against the heat pooling between my legs, inside of me.

He’s careful with his fractured wrist, cradled in a protective air cast, but his other hand...

It has all sorts of plans.

Plan one seems to be using his fingers to find my clit, rubbing in slow, tantalizing circles that make my toes curl and my breath hitch.

The pressure is perfect. With every thrum of his thumb, my pussy clenches, eager to squeeze around something hard—around him.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice a heady mix of assurance and seduction. And heaven help me, he does.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he lowers his head, his mouth latching onto one nipple.

The sensation is electric, a bolt of pure pleasure that shoots straight through me. Sucking, licking, he moves to the other, giving it equal attention, each flick of his tongue winding me tighter and tighter.

Every cell of my overheated body feels alive, humming with anticipation and need. The steamy shower envelops us in a sanctuary of heat and desire. But all I can focus on is Jacob.

His touch. His mouth. And how no other man has ever done what's he doing to me.

Making me reach heights I'd never known existed. Seducing me. Savoring me.

Each movement pushes me closer to the edge, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

I find out the answer when Jacob slips two fingers inside me.

The sudden invasion is a welcome shock that send me shooting into the stratosphere. Especially when he curls his fingertips, touching the soft silken walls inside of me, drawing out a moan from me that’s more animal than anything.

“Fuc….” I start.

“Yes, Gabi. Fucking you is an absolute pleasure.”

He pumps me and I nearly growl.

His voice lowers. “Even if it’s just my fingers, baby. How many can you take?”

I don’t know the answer. I don’t know my own name.

I don’t know anything.

Anything but this.

My heart loves Jacob Walker. And so does my pussy.

Because when he adds a third finger, pistoning it inside my walls, I come. The climax waylays me like a tidal wave, crashing through my body with a force so intense, I swear I see stars.

I cry out, my voice echoing off the tiled walls as Jacob's fingers and mouth drive me over the edge.

My legs tremble, my fingers clawing at his shoulders for something—anything—to keep me grounded as pleasure rockets through every nerve ending.

He murmurs soothing words, his breath hot against my skin, keeping me tethered to the moment as wave after wave of ecstasy courses through me. And just when I think I can't take anymore, he finally eases, allowing me to catch my breath.

He reaches for a washcloth, his movements tender as he gently wipes me clean. My body sags against the wall, thoroughly spent and utterly satisfied.

Shortly after, Jacob shuts off the shower, the silence only broken by our ragged breathing and the steady drip of water.

Without a word, he wraps a fluffy towel around me, cradling me in his arms. There's a tenderness in his eyes that makes my heart squeeze. Carefully, he carries me out of the bathroom and down the hall to my childhood bedroom.

Innocent memories clash with the passion we just shared, but in Jacob's arms, it feels right.

He lays me gently on the bed, pulling the blankets over me as I snuggle into the familiar comfort.

And in that moment, I hate myself. I hate for what I know I'm going to do. I hate Jacob for being so damn magnetic that I have to do it.

Jacob's arm wraps around me, pulling me close against his warmth as we lie in my old bed.

The room smells like fresh linen and nostalgia. His breath on the back of my neck is steady. And despite everything, I find myself melting into his embrace.

It's easy, almost too easy, to pretend that everything is perfect, just for a few moments more.

His hand strokes my arm in gentle, rhythmic motions, soothing me in a way that only he can. My throat burns with suppressed sobs, and I bite my lip to keep from making a sound.

Because I'm sure if he listens hard enough, he'll be able to hear the sound of my heart breaking into pieces. Or the sound of the tears silently soaking my pillow as I drift into unconsciousness wrapped in his embrace.