“What?” she asks, not even bothering to look at me with those startling blue and gold irises.
I shake my head and chuckle. “Nothing. Just…watching you. Touching you. It still seems unreal.”
Her gaze flicks up to mine and she smiles. “But it is real. What we have is real, Dorian.”
“I know that.” I laugh and let my head fall back on the cushion. Shit. Her emitting her incredible power to me last night has me all types of fucked up in the head. I feel vulnerable, juvenile, yet free. All the things I admire so much about her.
I shake my head against the back of the couch. “I sound like a bitch, don’t I? Like a stupid fool taken by infatuation.”
My beautiful Gabriella tosses the menu aside and straddles me in a blur before my eyes. “No, you don’t. You sound like a man in love. And lucky for you, I am perfectly fine with sounding like a bitch when it comes to you. We can be bitches together,” she smiles.
I attack her mouth with mine before she can say another word. Damn, I love this woman. More than two and a half centuries of a half-hearted existence yet I didn’t start living until the day I met her. Gabriella breathed life into me.
“Ok, ok,” she giggles pulling away. “At this rate, we’ll never eat and I’m starving.” She grabs the phone off the nearby end table and thrusts it against my chest. “Here. Order whatever. And get as many desserts as you want. We’ll need them,” she says with a sly smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, tickling her ribs, the alluring sound of her laughter filling every vacant part of me.
I do as she wishes, ordering all her favorite dishes plus every dessert on the menu. I never want her to go without. I want to give her everything she desires before she even realizes she desires it. I want to do any and every thing to make sure her smile never falters.
We’re kissing and cuddling on the couch, working ourselves into a frenzy when a knock at the door disrupts us. We’re both on our feet before the sound of the first rapt dissolves.
“That was quick,” she remarks, turning for the door. I grab her arm before she even takes a full step.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She scrunches her cute little nose and rolls her eyes. “To open the door for the concierge. Duh. You have on your boxers which, quite frankly, boy scouts could camp under with the tent you’re pitching. I’ll be 2 seconds. Relax.”
I shake my head. “Your eyes, baby. You need to change them if you are going to fit in.”
My gorgeous little goddess smiles and shrugs out of my grip. “Who said I wanted to fit in? Besides, what’s the use in being a freak show if you can’t have a little fun?” Then before I can stop her, she is at the front door, turning the knob, with only my half-buttoned shirt obscuring her naked frame.
I see her freeze and hear a tiny gasp, putting me on alert. “Who is it, baby?” I call out, shrugging on my forgotten pants from last night.
Without turning around, she answers in a small, shaky voice, “My dad.”
Shit. Chris did not need the evidence of me fucking his adopted daughter slapping him in the face. No dad wants to see that. He’ll never forgive me now. I take a deep breath and make my way to the door, not looking forward to the awkward conversation ahead.
Gabriella widens the door just as I approach, giving me full view of a pair of cold, venomous eyes and a threatening snarl. I freeze in my tracks, unable to articulate a semblance of a response to what stands before us. The only thing that breaks me out of my trance is Gabriella’s tear-filled eyes gazing up at me full of confusion and fear. I open my mouth to soothe her anxiety, knowing that she needs an explanation for what greets us just two feet away. Shit, I need one too. But what do I say? How do I even begin to rationalize this?
Fuck.
So I start with the obvious, knowing that I have to say something. Whether or not it’s enough to diffuse the situation is the real question. But I doubt it. He’s always been a stubborn son of a bitch. Yet, I plaster on my most rigid grin and extend my hand anyway.
“Hello, Alexander.”
Gabriella & Dorian's story continues...