Return to Me (Breaking Free Book 2) Read online

  Gabe nods.

  “How did I forget that? I don’t even know what day it is anymore.” I drag one of the boxes over to the stainless steel fridge, and start to unload. Gabe grabs the other. “Being stuck up here lately, all my days are running together.”

  “Yeah, I’m kind of surprised you’re not off at some fancy party,” Gabe says with a teasing smile, handing me a small stack of containers.

  “I’m trying to avoid all that for right now since I’m sticking to the straight and narrow. Besides, hanging out with a bunch of fake people on New Year’s Eve, or any other evening for that matter, sucks,” I say. Gabe opens the second box and hands over another stack of containers. “I’m kind of surprised you didn’t have plans.”

  “I’m a boring single dad who until very recently worked nights. I never have plans.”

  “Well, I guess we’ve got something in common then.”

  “Looks like.”

  “You gonna stay and watch the ball drop with me on TV?”

  Gabe gives me a crooked grin. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Perhaps I can be persuaded.”

  Biting the corner of my lip, I don’t try to mask my heated look. “I bet I can still remember all kinds of ways to persuade you.”

  I don’t end up needing to do a thing to persuade him. Gabe pulls me up against him with an arm around my waist, and presses his lips against mine in a devouring kiss that leaves me weak enough in the knees I have to wrap my arms around his neck just to remain upright.

  Gabe kisses down the center of my neck, back up along the side, and catches my earlobe between his teeth. He remembers all the ways to persuade me too, not that I’m requiring much persuasion at the moment. I’ve been looking forward to this since he walked through the door. Hell, I’ve been dreaming of this for years.

  “Where’s your room?” His voice is a low growl close to my ear.

  I can barely speak. “U-Upstairs.”

  Leading him there by the hand, it feels like an eternity before we reach my room. Why did I buy such a stupidly large house?

  We were each other’s firsts, but I was Gabe’s first everything. At almost seventeen, I’m not sure if he had even kissed another girl yet. He took all that crap they preached in that uptight church we attended serious, at least he did back then. His cop friend’s comment that he was a little angel wasn’t far off the mark at all. I can remember taking his hand, and saying, “Right here,” against his mouth, as I showed him exactly where I wanted him to touch me.

  Gabe doesn’t require that kind of instruction anymore, and he doesn’t wait for me to take the lead. He tugs on the ribbon holding my dress closed, and the fabric falls open. “Damn, Trin,” he says in a breathy voice, as his eyes take me in.

  I make a similar comment when I peel off his sweater to reveal what’s underneath. Gabe is solidly built, and there’s a small smattering of dark hair at the center of his chest that I don’t remember from before, but I find sexy as hell now. I glide a palm down the center of his chest, lower. I need to get the rest of these clothes off and see what I’ve been missing.

  With his mouth against my neck, he grabs my hand and pulls it away. I guess he wants to do things his way, and I am more than willing to follow his lead.

  The matching bra and panties I chose with such care get stripped off me with the aid of his teeth and discarded on the floor. We haven’t even made it onto the bed yet, but we’re standing close enough I can hold onto the tall corner post as he drags his mouth down my body, taking several detours along the way.

  Kneeling before me, I can only describe the attention he pays my pussy as worshipful. I forgot how good he was at this, but he got a lot of practice back in the day between when we first started fooling around and when we actually had sex.

  He originally wanted to wait until marriage, a notion I found sweet perhaps, but ultimately silly and impossible to abide by. He eventually found it impossible too.

  Gabe was good, but even good boys go bad given enough time and a little temptation.

  I come so hard I against his tongue, my legs shake. The only reason I don’t crumple to the plush carpet is Gabe’s strong hands splayed across my ass, holding me up. I’m still recovering as he lays me back on the bed. When he stretches out on top of me, and kisses me, I taste myself. When I reach for the button of his jeans, this time he doesn’t stop me. I want to taste him too, but he has other plans for me, for us.

  He’s hard, and thick, and big. Not too big. Perfect. We really do fit together just right. Kissing me deep, he starts out slow. I wrap my legs around his hips, urging him on, but I don’t have to ask him for a thing. He still knows my body intimately, even if we don’t really know each other intimately anymore. It feels like we do though. It feels like I never left. It feels like I’m going to come again too, which I express quite vocally as my nails dig into the small of his back.

  Have you ever come so good you cry? Neither have I, although I’m not sure I would consider what happens crying exactly, but a few tears do escape the corners of my eyes as my back arches beneath him.

  Gabe lets out a gruff groan against my shoulder. I forgot all about that sound, and the way he rolls us both over is so reminiscent. Maybe Gabe doesn’t look exactly how I remember, but it’s still him alright.

  Stop it right fucking now, Trin. Why am I crying? Gabe asks the same exact thing in a concerned voice, and I don’t have a good answer.

  “I guess I missed you.” How utterly pathetic. Perhaps I’ve missed him, but he’s spent years with someone else not missing me. “Sorry. I’m a huge pussy now.”

  Gabe presses his lips against my forehead just like he used to. “No, your not, Trin, and I missed you too.”

  Chapter 18

  Gabe

  So much for a cup of coffee and a friendly get acquainted chat, although I suppose I knew this is how things might go after that kiss last night.

  God, I hope she’s cleaned up her act for real. I can’t afford to invite any of that nonsense into my life, or my daughters. I’m trying so damn hard to hold part of myself back from her, but I’m not sure if that’s possible. If this was someone else, maybe, but this is Trin.

  I guess what they say is true, the first cut is the deepest. It’s like there’s this little open space straight through the center of my chest directly into my heart that she fits right into.

  Maybe she was right all those years ago. I’m really am a mega pussy.

  Trin’s small, tearful moment passes, and we stare at each other for a long time. Her blonde eyelashes are darkened with some sort of makeup that’s smudged a bit smokey, making her baby blue eyes appear lighter and softer in comparison. Her pouty bowtie mouth is fixed into a tiny, relaxed smile.

  She’s so different now. She looks the same. She feels the same. She still lets out that same humming, throaty moan when she comes, the one that almost sounds like she’s going to break out into song. But the old Trin never showed a thing. In fact any type of emotional display or overt affection got met with a laugh or an eye roll from her.

  “We should make a cake to celebrate New Years,” Trin says, tracing a manicured nail down my arm. “It’ll be my last hurrah for a bit, since I’ll be stuck eating those bird sized portions of rabbit food for a while.”

  “I think you should stay just like this,” I say, smoothing a palm down over her hip. Trin is gorgeous, definitely not in the need of losing any weight. I had assumed the pictures of her I’d seen splashed across magazine covers a few years back were photoshopped or something. “You should send that crap back to him. I met this guy once, remember? Maybe he could do with some rabbit food, but you don’t need it.”

  Trin gives one of her signature eyerolls that I remember so well. “He’s not the one who has to wear skimpy outfits or pose for pictures.”

  “I can’t believe this guy gets to tell you what to eat.”

  “He’s just looking out for me. It’s his job. You gonna hang around tonight after th
e ball drops?”

  “You sure you got room here for me?” I ask with a teasing smile.

  The smallest hint of a blush highlights her cheeks. “I know it’s over the top. I was going through a phase a few years ago when I had this place built.”

  “Do you really live here all by yourself?”

  Trin nods.

  “I thought you’d have like a maid, and a butler, maybe a chef tucked away somewhere.”

  “Ugh. No way. I get tired of being around so many people on the road. This is my place away from all that. It’s my sanctuary.” Her fingertips trace up the center of my chest, the side of my neck, and through my hair. She presses her lips against mine in a soft kiss. “You should come take a shower with me, then I’ll bake us that cake.”

  Her shower is big enough for six people, with water cascading from multiple nozzles at varying heights, and a marble tiled bench built into the edge of one side.

  From the second she pulls the glass enclosure shut, my hands are all over her. I can’t help myself. Trin is head to toe pretty, even without the fake hair and all that other getup she wears for pictures. She’s all breasts and hips, just plump enough to feel soft pressed up against me.

  “I’m going to smell like a girl,” I complain with a smile as she glides lavender scented body wash over my shoulders.

  “I won’t hold it against you.”

  We both end up covered in the same light, fragrant scent. I can taste it very faintly on her skin, even after being rinsed clean. She practically purrs when I dip my head down to suck one of her nipples into my mouth. Her spine curves back against my hand, and she hums when I scrape my teeth over the hardened peak.

  After a brief, somewhat breathless discussion, I learn Trin is on birth control, and we’re both safe. Good enough for me. I am desperate to be inside her again, but she has other plans.

  Her fingernails scratch lightly down my body. She makes good use out of that tiled bench. Keeping those baby blue eyes fixed on my face the whole time, she runs her tongue along the underside of my cock. She nibbles, she teases, drives me fucking crazy in the best way possible.

  Trin sucks cock like nobody’s business, but she likes to build up the anticipation a bit, or a lot. She really is a tease. She always was. I can remember her getting me right to that edge, then backing off. “I’m so wet, Gabe. Don’t you wanna feel? My mouth feels good, but that would feel sooo much better.” Looking back, I can’t believe I held out as long as I did.

  I wanted to marry her, make her mine forever, but I wanted to do it the right way. My views on right and wrong have shifted dramatically since then, but everything about this feels right in the present.

  I am falling back into things with her way too damn fast. I’m not a kid anymore, and I know better, but there’s a very good reason Trin is famous beyond her voice. She’s beautiful, charismatic. She’s as magnetic as a black hole, and I’m already skating perilously close to that horizon event, the tipping point where I get sucked right back in too deep with her.

  I used to wonder all the time what the hell she saw in me. There were plenty of other guys in our church falling all over themselves to catch her attention. I wasn’t one of them. Not at first. Sometimes I think that’s why she focused so intently on me. I was a challenge. I was one of the few boys our age that didn’t fawn all over her.

  Not that I didn’t want to, but Trin was a flirt, and she had a helluva reputation. I almost didn’t believe her when she told me she was still a virgin. I might not have believed it if I didn’t see the proof myself almost five months after we got together.

  Five months. How the hell did I hold out for five whole months? I couldn’t even wait five hours this time.

  My fingers tangle in her hair, and I pull her off me. Trin is panting and squeezing her thighs together. She isn’t just good at sucking cock, she loves it. I know before I feel, she’s already hot and slippery wet. Our lips tangle briefly as she spreads open wide, inviting me to touch her more.

  With her hair wet and stringy, hanging around her shoulder, the bit of dark eye makeup from earlier trailing down her face, she’s a beautiful mess. A gorgeous, complicated fucking mess. I really should know better than this.

  Trin’s not a bit shy either, especially once you wind her up a little. She plants her heels on the tiled edge and raises her hips to meet my fingers. “That feels sooo good, Gabe, but I want you to fuck me. Don’t you wanna fuck me?”

  I do, badly.

  Without any prompting from me, Trin stands up, turns around, and bends over that bench seat. Biting into her lower lip, she grins at me over her shoulder, and shakes her ass in my direction as if to ask - Well?

  She really is the same Trin. Playful, silly, sexy as hell.

  I don’t make her ask twice.

  Damn, she feels perfect, too good to be true.

  Maybe this is too good to be true. There was a time I thought Trin was ‘the one.’ I thought she was my one. I would’ve bet my life on it.

  The past is the past, but it’s still there taunting at the edge of my mind. Trin running off from me like that devastated me, and I’m not sure if I’m prepared for any more heartbreak at the moment.

  It’s hard to think about much else right now besides the feel of her wrapped around me, hot, wet, so damn tight. One of my hands slides down her belly, close to where we’re connected. I lean over her to press my lips against her shoulder, then my teeth. I have this overwhelming want to bite her, leave a mark, claim her somehow.

  It’s a primal urge, and god damned crazy. I know. Everything about this is crazy. I’m in the middle of some ludicrous mansion, balls deep inside of a woman I never thought I’d stand in the same room with again. Maybe she’s just Trin to me, but Shane was right. She is The Trin Sinclair too. My brain can’t reconcile the two, then she starts to flutter around me, and all of my attention is diverted to her quiet, panting moans building in intensity.

  Her pussy clamps down around me like a vice. Her low, throaty, hum bounces off the tiles, echoing, reverberating. That sound slithers down my spine, crackles along every nerve ending. I soar nearly right after, and I do bite her, involuntarily. Not hard. Not hard enough for her to complain anyways.

  She pitches forward, pressing the side of her face against the dark marble while she recovers. “Oh, my god. Gabe, you might have to carry me out of here,” she says with a tiny laugh.

  When I do pick her up, she squeals in mock terror, and pretends to pound on my chest. “Put me down, you brute.”

  “Make up your damn mind.”

  Her lips are a smile against mine as I set her back down upon slightly unsteady legs.

  It’s not until we are out of the huge shower enclosure, and drying off, that I catch sight of the mark I’ve left on her shoulder near the base of her neck. In the heat of the moment, the thought seemed hot as fuck, but right now I feel like an ass.

  “Shit. I’m sorry, Trin. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  She studies the spot in the huge mirror that runs the length of one wall above a long vanity. “It’s just a love bite.” Meeting my reflection in the mirror, she puckers her lips for an air kiss, then clicks her perfectly white, straight teeth together for an imaginary bite. “It’s a good thing I have this fake ass hair to cover it up.” She smoothes the damp, white blonde locks over her shoulder, and reaches for a black, silk robe hanging nearby.

  She’s still in nothing but that robe a short while later downstairs in her kitchen. I sip on cappuccino that is way too creamy. Perhaps something shows on my face because she says, “I forgot. You only ever liked plain, boring, black coffee.” She lets out a tiny sigh as she starts opening and shutting cupboard doors, pulling this and that down from the shelves. “I need to get a new coffee maker.”

  “You don’t have to on my account,” I say. Trin always preferred her java more milk and sugar than actual coffee.

  “I need to think up some excuse to lure you back to my lair again.” She throws me a little wink over m
y shoulder, and I laugh.

  Trin doesn’t have to lure me anywhere, and we both know it.

  “You’re making it from scratch?” I ask, watching her dip a measuring cup into a stainless steel canister marked flour.

  “I don’t have a mix, plus they taste like shit. I’m not going to waste my one last indulgence on a crappy cake from a box.”

  I don’t bother inquiring about where she learned to do that. I already know. Her mother made sure the Sinclair girls could cook and bake, a fact Trin used to bitch about profusely.

  “What’s this?” I ask, sliding a finger along the slender photo album laid out on the counter. It appears so out of place in the tidy and spacious kitchen.

  “Don’t look at that.” Holding a mixing spoon in one hand, Trin rushes over to snatch the book away. Her face is crimson.

  “What is it?”

  “Faith put this together for me.” Trin lets loose a small, embarrassed giggle. “It’s all the letters they read at that intervention they surprised me with. I guess she thought I might want to hang onto them for a keepsake, you know in case I want to relive the worst day of my life at some point in the future.”

  “That’s kind of sweet though, in a weird way.”

  “That’s exactly what I said. Sweet, but weird.” She shakes her head. “I hate that I let it get to that point, but I guess all I can do now is make sure it never happens again.”

  “You seem like you’re doing good now.”

  “Oh, I am. I’m done with all that nonsense, and I’m not just saying so because you’re a cop.”

  “That’s good to hear, and I’m not just asking because I’m a cop.”

  “I’m not about to go bananas again either, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m really not, Trin.”

  “I had some shit to deal with, and I dealt with it.”

  “What shit?”