Page 148 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me
Our chests rose and fell together on every inhale and exhale, and I wouldn’t be surprised if our hearts beat in sync, too.
He smiled against my lips and murmured, “I remember this. It’s good to be home.”
Then he took charge and changed the pace. He grabbed my face in his hands and his mouth crashed against mine. My legs cinched tighter, ankles locking as his tongue swept into my mouth, and I tried to get as close to him as humanly possible.
My breasts pressed against his chest and his hard length lined up with my core. I swiveled my hips.
He groaned. I moaned.
We kissed like the world was ending. We poured all the years of pent-up frustration and longing and lust into this kiss.
My fingers tugged at the ends of his hair and our mouths were fused, breaking apart only when he lifted me out of the water, planted my ass on the side of the pool and draped my leg over his shoulder.
“God,” he breathed. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful.”
Then he dipped his head and kissed a trail up my inner thigh.
Yes, yes, yes, yes.
Panting, I grabbed the back of his head, digging my fingers into his hair as his hot, expert lips teased and taunted. He was so close. So close.
Just as his mouth moved to the crease in my thigh, Otis started barking and a cheery voice called, “Gabriel! I’m taking a dip in your pool!”
I pulled away and scrambled to my feet as a brunette in a bikini top and shorts rounded the tall bushes and stopped at the pool’s edge.
Her gaze darted from Gabriel to me.
“Oh, hey.” She smiled and waved. “Sorry, I didn’t realize Gabriel had company.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Cleo
Her name was Maya.
In addition to being pretty with big, dark eyes and long, wavy hair, she made excellent margaritas, was genuinely nice and seemed cool, and as if that weren’t enough, she was also brilliant.
She was working on her Ph.D. in Environmental something or other, at Columbia, of all places. Way to make me feel like a loser dropout.
But to add insult to injury, she’d helped Gabriel plant his wild garden.
The wild garden that he was so proud of and bragged about at every opportunity, constantly delighting in its many wonders.
Do you hear those songbirds?
Look at those Red Admirals! Check out those Black Swallowtails!Butterflies, as I’d come to learn.
Maya was a wildlife conservationist and because of her, Gabriel knew all the names, including some of the Latin ones, of everything that grew in his garden and all the birds and butterflies that frequented it.
Because they’d planted the garden together.
After hanging out in the pool for a while, we’d whipped up a pitcher of margaritas and cobbled together the ingredients for a tray of nachos.
Now we were enjoying the fruits of our labor. Me, Gabriel, and his female bestie.
Ihopedthey were just friends, but that was merely conjecture on my part since their status remained unclear.
All I knew was that they were close, seemed very familiar with each other, and Maya knew exactly where to find everything in his kitchen.
