The Forbidden, page 16
“Fuck yes,” Gabe mutters, his eyes alight with praise. His hips move faster and he tunnels deeper.
As I start to come down from the pinnacle, I feel my eyes closing. Gabe grabs my jaw with his hand and snarls, “Eyes on me, Hell Kat.”
I think to disobey him but curiosity wins out. I want to see if he’s going to be as undone as I was.
Teeth gritted, neck muscles straining, Gabe rides me fast and hard. I memorize the planes of his face, the pace of his breath, and with one hard thrust, Gabe’s expression twists into a ghastly but beautiful portrait of painful pleasure as he orgasms.
“Katherine.” My full name, a graveled prayer falling from his mouth.
A long rush of pent-up breath blows across my face and Gabe lowers his body onto mine, utterly spent. Without thought, only by emotion, I wrap my arms around his lower back, my legs around his thighs. He rests his chin on my shoulder, mouth pressed into my neck as his breathing regulates.
After what seems like forever, Gabe speaks first, although he keeps his head lowered. “Are you filled with regret and recrimination?”
“I’m too blissed out to feel anything negative right now, but give me a moment.”
I expect him to laugh but instead, he lifts his head and stares down at me. “This wasn’t a onetime-only thing, so if you’re going to have regrets, let’s hash them out now.”
My breath catches when I see how serious he is. This wasn’t about scratching an itch or giving into some type of hate fuck. Gabe wants to continue, and I had not considered that when I gave in to him tonight.
“I don’t have regrets,” I say carefully. “But I don’t know what this is.”
“I don’t either. I just know it’s not over.”
Something inside of me thrills at the confidence he’s exhibiting, but at the same time, I can feel the barriers rising up around me. “We’re over. Have been for years.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, his eyes twinkling. “We’re starting new then.”
I shake my head, but his hand grips my jaw again. “Don’t deny it. You know there’s still something here between us, and if we can get past the hurt…” I try to talk but he amends the path he was taking. “If you can forgive me for what I did to you, then we could build something good, Kat.”
Forgive him? Is that what he’s seeking?
And he wants to build something new?
“I don’t think I can trust you,” I say, all the old hurt welling up.
“Let me try at least,” he says, his tone slightly pleading, which is something Gabe Mardraggon would never do. “Just… let’s keep seeing each other, okay?”
“For sex?”
“Well, yes, for sex. Wasn’t that fucking fantastic?” Yeah, it was. The best ever if I’m honest. “But let’s continue to rebuild our friendship. We have Sylvie to worry about and it’s in her best interests if we all get along.”
“That’s convenient,” I mutter.
“I’m being serious,” he growls, pressing his lips down hard on mine. When he lifts, he says, “Please… promise me we can see each other.”
I’m not opposed to what we just did. He’s right… fucking fantastic. I could do that over and over again with Gabe, but I’m not letting this get any deeper than sex.
“Okay,” I say, and I feel his body relax. I shut that down fast. “But we can’t tell anyone.”
Gabe’s eyes narrow. “Keep it a secret.”
“Just like back in college,” I affirm.
“But you didn’t want to keep it a secret.”
“I do now.”
He studies me thoughtfully and I know he thinks I’m doing this to get back at him. But I’m doing this for self-preservation. If I can keep what Gabe and I have in a bubble, I can prevent feelings from developing. I can keep things contained and under control.
It’s my best chance of protecting my heart but deep in my gut I know it’s a risk that I could be destroyed, no matter if we keep it to ourselves or tell the world.
“Fine,” he finally relents. “We’ll keep it a secret.”
CHAPTER 19
Gabe
It wasn’t only but a handful of times I’d sneak onto Blackburn Farms to meet up with Kat at the little apartment above the tack room the summer between our freshman and sophomore years of college. But in those days, Kat would meet me at the farm’s boundary where I’d leave my car parked at the edge of an old service road and we’d steal through the night, hand in hand, to our destination. I trusted that everyone who could catch us was tucked away where they should be and there’d be no irate father or brother waiting to lay me low with buckshot.
I don’t have those assurances now.
I drove my G 550 because I intend to park on that service road again and my Ferrari sits too low. I intend to sneak along the same paths to that apartment but I don’t have the promise of safety. Kat has no idea I’m coming and that’s by design. If I’d have asked to come over, I’m quite confident her answer would’ve been no.
That’s not to say she’s changed her mind about us continuing to see each other. In fact, she came to my house last night under the guise of working on the winery expansion, but we spent barely thirty seconds talking before we were going at it in my office. Let’s just say that my desk got well used and it wasn’t to study spreadsheets or investment reports.
We’ve been back from France for three days now and Kat has played it cool with me. She’s not once asked to get together, content to make me work for it.
That’s fine as I’ve got a lot to make up for. But her agreement to spend time with me has been hard to come by and it’s hit or miss whether she’ll even respond. The reason I’m so sure she would say no if I asked tonight is because last night, after our heart rates had returned to normal and our sweat had cooled, Kat let me pick her up from the desk and carry her up to my bedroom. She then let me take my time with her body, getting reacquainted with all the little sensitive spots that I used to own. She let me put my mouth everywhere and when she climaxed on my tongue, she called out my name with such longing, my chest ached.
And after that was all done, she let me just hold her. Granted, I think she was worn out, a puddle of bliss and quite malleable. I forced her to be vulnerable by holding her tight, talking about inane things. Eventually she relaxed and we managed to have a conversation that had nothing to do with the winery, the original feud or our horrid breakup.
We talked about our trip to France and all the things we did that weren’t business related. Charmed by the history, the ancient buildings and the simpler way of life outside the major cities, Kat now yearns to return to Europe and explore. We lay in bed and I told her about my travels, and all I could think was that I’d love to be the one to take her, but to voice that aloud would cause her to shut down and bolt.
So I took what she offered, which was some companionable cuddling and conversation.
Oh, it didn’t last long. She eventually realized that we were talking candidly and with ease. If we didn’t have a tattered history between us, she might have stayed longer.
But nope. She bolted, and she’s been silent this morning. Hasn’t responded to my texts, either inviting her to get together or about winery-related items. She’s even ignored my text asking how Sylvie has been doing this week since she’s attending a horse camp Blackburn Farms is putting on. Sylvie wasn’t committed to riding but they do all kinds of fun things on the farm, and her friend Carmen is attending, the main reason she agreed to do it.
Kat has underestimated my determination though, and as I creep stealthily among the quiet and darkened barns, my eyes adjusting to the dark, I don’t waste time getting to my destination.
Looking up the staircase that leads to her apartment door, I’m pleased to see her living room light is on and her Jeep is parked beside the building. The sconce light at her door throws a tiny bit of illumination down on me. Everything else around me is dark, including the main house off in the distance on a knoll.
The efficient thing to do would be to march up the stairs and knock on her door.
The smart thing to do would be to call her and let her know I’m here.
If someone were to make a list of my qualities, efficiency and intelligence would be at the top no doubt. But I need to do something different, so I’m going to call on a quality that is rusty at best.
Bending over, I grab some pea gravel and start pelting her window. By about the fifth one, Kat’s face appears at the glass and she frowns as she looks out. I can tell when her eyes lock right on me because I can see the flash of irritation from where I’m standing.
She disappears and then the door opens. I drop the gravel, brush my hands off on my jeans and start for the staircase.
“Stop,” she says, and I look up to see her holding her palm out to me. “I’m not inviting you in.”
“That’s good,” I say, halting at the bottom step and leaning my elbow on the railing. “Because I want you to come with me.”
“Oh please,” she drawls, crossing her arms over her chest. “You came for a booty call but you already had one last night.”
I grin up at her. “There’s no lie in the fact I’d consider it a perfect evening if I were to end up in your bed, but I really do want you to go somewhere with me.”
“Why?” she asks suspiciously.
I throw my arms out and mock her. “Oh come on, Kat. Live a little. Be adventurous. Come with me.”
The indecision wars on her face. She’s not in her pajamas but I’ll bet she wasn’t too far off from going to bed as I know she’s an early riser. But tonight is too beautiful to let it go to waste.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“That would be no fun if I told you,” I reply, refusing to give her any assurances. She needs to want this or else she’ll never get to where I want her to go.
Glancing down at her watch, back inside her apartment, and then back down to her watch, she huffs in frustration. “How long will we be gone?”
“An hour max,” I promise.
“Fine,” she mutters, grabbing her purse and a jacket. I wait for her to lock up and when she reaches me at the bottom of the stairs, she mutters, “You could have just texted or called rather than sneaking here to throw rocks at my window.”
Laughing, I grab her hand to lead her into the darkness and I’m surprised she doesn’t pull away. “You haven’t responded to any of the texts I’ve sent today and besides… I thought you would find this charming.”
“I find it foolish,” she replies primly, but I hear a lightness in her tone that wasn’t there when she was glaring down at me from her porch a minute ago.
We traverse through well-known paths back to my G Wagon and I open the door for her. She makes no comment about the vehicle, but then again, I didn’t expect her to. That’s not her thing… buying expensive stuff just because she can.
I put music on low and head away from Blackburn Farms. It only takes about five minutes of driving before I’m turning down a road that causes her head to turn my way. “We’re going to the distillery?”
“Yup,” I reply, shooting her a wink.
“It’s a little late for a tour,” she says.
“That it is and you really need to see it while it’s operating, but I’m going to show you something else. Just be patient.” She harrumphs and I ask, “How was Sylvie’s day? I texted her and she said it was great but she was exhausted.”
That keeps Kat occupied, telling me about horse camp, and by the time we’re pulling into Mardraggon Distillery, the first manufacturing plant where our bourbon was created back in 1842, Kat seems more at ease.
We exit the vehicle and I take Kat’s hand again. The parking lot is well lit, and surprisingly, she doesn’t pull away. A security guard stands at the glass side-office door and moves to greet me as I use my keys to open it.
“Mr. Mardraggon, this is a nice surprise,” he says.
“Hi, Marshall. I’m here to show my guest the tank.”
“It’s a beautiful night for that,” the man says, bobbing his head.
“Indeed.” Kat smiles at the guard and we move past him. I lead her down a maze of halls and then through an exit door at the back of the building.
We’re immediately hit with the sound of gurgling water, compliments of a fresh water stream that meanders through the property. To the left is a large cylindrical metal tank with a steel ladder attached to the outside that extends all the way up. The roof is conical but not steeply pitched. A walkway fashioned around the top is bordered by safety railing.
“I seem to remember you’re not afraid of heights,” I say, sweeping my hand toward the ladder.
“No, I’m not, but that thing is tall enough you could throw me off the top and kill me,” she replies tartly.
“Then I guess we’ll see how much you trust me,” I say, moving to the ladder and starting the climb. The tank is not overly tall, about eighteen feet high and twenty-five feet wide. “This was Mardraggon’s first fermentation tank once we refined our process. It’s no longer in use and just ornamentation now.”
“Is it safe?” I hear from behind me and I can tell she’s begun the climb.
“Very safe,” I assure her.
I arrive at the top and step to the side on the walkway to give her room. I take her elbow to steady her as she moves from the top rung of the ladder. She ignores the railing, apparently secure in the belief I won’t toss her over.
“Come on,” I say, moving around the diameter until we reach the other side of the tank, and that’s when Kat lets out a gasp of delight.
Stretched out below us is the stream and along both sides are hundreds of glass globe lights staked into the ground. They’re of varying sizes and illuminate the grassy banks as the stream meanders around a copse of trees and disappears.
“What is that?” she whispers as I take her hand and point to the slanted roof for her to sit.
She does and I ease down beside her, stretching my legs and leaning back on my hands. “Alaine did that,” I say softly, staring at the lights.
Kat’s head whips my way. “She did? When?”
“A visit a few years ago. Sylvie was seven I think, and they’d come to visit me here at the distillery. Sylvie loved playing by the stream… hell, in the stream. She and Alaine would make picnic lunches and I’d go eat with them. Alaine was a stargazer and they’d come out here at night.”
“A special place,” Kat murmurs.
“I’d like to bring Sylvie here at night sometime, if it’s okay with you. We’ll figure a convenient time.”
Kat’s silent, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around her shins. “You can bring her on your own. You don’t need me to chaperone. I’ll work it out with Ethan.”
I twist my neck to look at her. “Why the sudden change of heart as to my fitness as a guardian?”
Resting her cheek on her knee, she looks at me. “It wasn’t sudden. It was proven over time and besides, I wouldn’t be sleeping with you if I ever thought you could hurt Sylvie.”
My hand goes to her back and I stroke it lightly. I don’t know how much of the impishness she can see in my smile because it’s dark up here. “And might I be sleeping with you tonight?”
“No,” she says, her white teeth gleaming through the shadows and I hear the playfulness in her tone. “But perhaps tomorrow night.”
Laughing, I scoot closer and wrap my arm around her. She surprisingly cuddles in, putting her head on my shoulder.
“I’m really sorry, Kat.” I stare down at the lights and wonder how to take her silence. Her body remains lax against me. “For what I did to you back then. I was a coward, but then again, you already know that. That’s what you called me.”
“I stand by that,” she says softly.
“You’re not wrong. I was back then. I let my parents’ hatred and all I’d ever been taught to feel about your family cloud my judgment. I wasn’t confident enough to evaluate and make my own decisions. I’m just… really sorry. I would change it if I could.”
More silence but then she says, “You were a kid. We both were.”
“I was old enough—”
“I’m thinking we both weren’t ready for the repercussions of what would have happened.”
“Maybe,” I muse as I think about the hell that would’ve broken loose if we’d told our families. “Maybe not.”
I think that Kat and I could potentially be married now with a family of our own had I been a bit braver. Sylvie could have cousins to play with.
We sit side by side, staring down at the lit stream and listen to the music of the running water. It’s several minutes before Kat finally says, “I forgive you, Gabe.”
I didn’t know how much I needed those words, the release of weight on my shoulders making me feel like I could float off this tank. But I take Kat’s hand and hold on, letting her ground me.
CHAPTER 20
Kat
It’s late as I walk to my Jeep, but there are plenty of streetlamps to light the way. Our board meeting ran late, mostly because we were having fun—eating good food and some of my fellow horsemen drank a little too much good bourbon—and I need to let Gabe know I’m on my way.
I stop on the sidewalk, rummage through my purse for my phone and shoot him a text. I’m just now getting out. Going to run home and change. Be there in an hour.
His response is quick and strangely warming. Drive safe.
It’s crazy the turn of events in my life where Gabe is concerned. Since our talk on top of the tank the other night, we’ve easily slipped back into a relationship of sorts. It’s reminiscent of what we had back in college in that we’re both staying on the down low at my insistence, as things are just too precarious between the families and with his father’s attempt on Sylvie’s life, I’m not willing to throw things into disarray.
But it’s also different in many good ways. We’re more mature, settled and confident. That extends not just into the bedroom where sex is better than it ever was, but out of it as well. Our conversations are deep and we’re exploring each other’s lives. Things we were too young to care about back then are important now. For example, Gabe has opened up to me about how torturous this has been with what his father did to Sylvie. He never had a warm relationship with Lionel, but now he hates the man.
