“What is this you’re referring to?”

“Gabrielle.” He turns around and I can see the anguish in his features. Does he…feel the same things I feel? “In another life…” he leans down, “I’d make you so happy, and it just kills me sometimes that it can’t be this life.”

I grip his forearms and move closer to him. I’m not completely pressed against him but I’m close. “You do make me happy in this life, J.” I run my hands up his chest, toeing the line between sexual and playful and to his shoulders before gripping them. “James…” His name comes out like a breathy plea and it must serve as a question because his hands find my hips in response. He grips them tightly and before I can think he’s moved me backwards and lifted me up onto the counter like I weigh less than a feather. He steps between my legs and runs his nose up and down my neck.

“I’ve always loved the way you smell. Your scent is fucking addictive.” Goosebumps cover every inch of me and my sex gets slicker as his cock lines up perfectly against my center. He doesn’t press it against me.

I press myself against him.

I scoot further so I’m pressing right against him and I hope he can feel the heat from my pussy because it feels like it’s on fire.

“You’re killing me, Gab.” He groans as he drops his head to my shoulder. “You’re drunk and—”

“This has nothing to do with me being drunk,” I whisper. The last thing I want him to think is that alcohol caused these feelings. “If it is, I’ve been drunk since I was thirteen.” I speak the words of finality. The words I can’t take back. The words that make it very clear what I feel and how deep the feelings go. “I want you.” I run my hands down his back and then up until I find his hair and pull on it gently. “I want you so badly, it’s made being around you miserable at times.” He pulls away quickly and gives me a sad look that almost mirrors mine. His hand finds my cheek.

“Same, beautiful.”

“Wh-what?”

“This past year…hell, two years if I’m being honest, which makes me feel like a fucking pervert because you had just turned seventeen and all of a sudden you were just this beautiful woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.” He swallows. “I think about you all the time.”

My mouth drops open in awe over his confession. “You do?” I squeak. “What-what do you think about?”

“Fuck, Gab. A part of me thought you knew?”

I shake my head. “Fuck no. I would have made this move way before. I would have given you my virginity six months ago when I turned eighteen.”