Haze

I kiss him, wanting everything he can give to me and when his body shakes as he comes, only one word fills the room. Isla. Isla. Isla.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Gabriel

I open my eyes, immediately aware that I've slept in a bed that doesn’t belong to me. I'm also instantly, and gratefully aware, that Isla is next to me. I feel her lush body pressed against mine. The curve of her ass is visible when I glance down.

I'd fucked her twice. Once when she was cuffed to the bed and then again hours later after she'd taken my cock between her lips. She was on her knees on the floor next to the bed, the soft collar still wrapped around her neck as she swallowed every inch of my cock, urging me to come in her mouth.

I wanted it. I fucking wanted it so badly but I wanted to be inside her more and when I guided her back onto my lap, she'd hesitated. I knew what it meant. I was ready. I motioned for her to grab the condom I'd pulled out of the pocket of my pants.

She'd sheathed me herself, taking care to cover me tenderly, before she inched back into my lap and lowered her slick cunt over me. It was incredible, the angle, the sensations, the sight of her tits bouncing as she rode me hard.

Her lips were swollen, her body misted and when she came that time, she'd cursed. The words driving me mad, mad enough to circle her waist with my arm so I could drive my cock up and inside of her until I came. I'd dropped onto my back then, pulling her with me.

She's ruined me. I felt it for weeks now. I've ignored it all but now I feel it in every part of me. I'll never get over this.

"We haven't had dinner." She pushes her back into my chest. "Are you hungry, Gabriel?"

No, it's not hunger. I'm in love. I think I'm in love. I have no bearing for that but this feels like love.

I wrap my arms around her, nestling my face in the softness of her hair. "I can cook something. What do you have to eat?"

"Mustard."

I laugh when I realize she's not going to say another thing. "You only have mustard?"

"It's the fancy one." She kicks her feet to move the blankets. "You probably eat it by the truckload. You know what I'm talking about."

I pull her closer. "Yellow mustard, Isla?"

"Ha," she says loudly. "You know that's not it. It's the fancy one."

"Grey Poupon?"

"I have that," she says with a horrible English accent. "You're welcome to eat it by the spoon if you like."

I cringe. "You don't eat it by the spoonful, do you?"

"I hate mustard." She rolls over, pulling her hand along her face to move her hair. "It was Cassia's, my roommate's. It's not even mine."

"What would you like to eat? I can order something in."

"Pizza." She taps my chest with both her hands. "Let's have pizza."

***

"Why haven't you told anyone?" She chews the last bite of her slice. "Have you considered talking to your mom about it?"

I've never thought about talking to anyone about it, especially my mother. It's a subject that I've kept hidden inside of me for most of my life. At the very least, since I was a teenager when I sensed what was happening.

"My mother's affairs are her own." I wince at my own choice of words. "I don't know what good would come of it if I confront her."

"You just told me that you know, for a fact, that she cheated on your dad with at least two men."

"I also know, for a fact that my father cheated on my mother with as many, if not more women."

She swipes a paper napkin across her lips. "It's really fucked up. They made vows. They promised one another."

"There was always a lot of discontent in their marriage," I say softly. "They were always arguing. There was so much back and forth that it was actually a relief when they decided to divorce."

She leans back against the headboard of her bed. "Do you ever think they regret it? Do you think they still care about each other at all?"

I love this part of her. It's hopeful and naïve. She may have lived through many difficult things within her own family but she's never been touched by the volatility of a relationship like the one my parents have.

"I think my mother still loves Roman, my father, in a sense," I say coolly. "There's still something there. She was very upset when he got engaged."

"I read that his fiancé called it off." She pushes the pizza box towards me. "You should eat more."

"I'm full." I slam the box shut.

"If I ever get married, I want it to be forever." She looks across the room at the candles which I'd blown out hours ago when she first fell asleep. "I know that's silly to say, but it's my dream. It's one of my dreams."