Cuffs - Cara Lockwood Page 0,51

a shout escaping from her lips. Gael matched her, thrust for thrust, before he, too, came. Gael collapsed on top of Mags’s chest, spent and winded, and she could feel his heartbeat, as wild as hers, against her chest.

Mags lay there for she didn’t know how long, feeling drained and boneless, happy to be in a bubble with her eyes closed and nothing but his comforting warmth against her, the steady swell of his chest with breath. She wanted to stay there forever, cocooned in the safety of him, but she knew eventually she’d need to pull herself away before she got too comfortable.

This was role play, wasn’t it? Just sweet release. Nothing more.

She opened her eyes and saw the sleek bedroom, the glassed walls beyond which lay the dark void of Lake Michigan, lit only by the smallest bit of moonlight. This wasn’t where she belonged, she realized. She needed to get back home, to her tiny apartment, her scrubby rental, away from the expensive chrome of Gael’s penthouse.

She sat up.

“I need to go,” she told him.

“Wait,” Gael said, clutching her softly by the wrist. “Please stay.”

“I...” Mags was about to say can’t. Though she knew what she meant was won’t. It was all about self-preservation. She’d let herself be too vulnerable just then. She needed to find the brick that had come loose in her wall. She needed to cement it back in place. Mags felt unsteady—wobbly, even. Because this wasn’t just role play. It was becoming real. Too damn real.

Gael’s need shone clearly on his face, and Mags knew he wasn’t a man used to needing things. She hesitated—a beat too long, it turned out.

“Come here.” That voice. That damn voice. He pulled her closer to him, and she went, her heart aching a little. If she stayed, she knew she’d get too attached. Because she wanted to—it was that simple. It wasn’t just the penthouse making her uncomfortable. It was him: his very presence, the way he looked at her now, offering her something different, something...complicated. But something amazing at the same time.

“I—I shouldn’t stay. I don’t...spend the night. Those are my rules.” Rules that suddenly seemed ridiculous right now, sitting in Gael’s bed, nose to nose. She could smell him, the hint of his spicy cologne and the smell of his skin beneath. She wanted to lose herself in that scent, tuck herself into his arms beneath his comforter and let his scent blanket her all night long. And that was why she ought to go, because those thoughts were insane. She couldn’t be with Gael. A suit would never marry a tattooed punk girl, or vice versa.

Plus, she’d promised herself she’d never get married. She knew that love didn’t last. It was foolish to think you could promise to love another person forever when you didn’t know when cancer or, hell, any other tragedy might strike.

“There’s that wall again,” Gael murmured, focusing on her face.

“What wall?” Mags felt exposed. How did he know about her wall? Did he also know about the loose brick?

“The one you put up between us when I get too close.”

Mags shifted, uncomfortable. “What do you mean?” Why did she even care what he meant? She ought to go. Now. Before she got too entangled in the man’s brain. In his sheets. In his whole life.

Gael sat up on his elbows. “All your defenses come down when we’re in here.” He patted the bed. “Did you know that? You’re completely you, completely open when your body is against mine.” Gael stared off out the big plate-glass window toward the lake. “But most other times, you hide behind your wall. Trying to keep everybody else out.”

Mags toyed with the edge of Gael’s sheet, suddenly feeling guilty and then wondering why. Why did she feel bad? It wasn’t like she’d promised Gael she’d be emotionally available. In fact, she thought she pretty much warned him the opposite would be true.

“I have my reasons for keeping people out.”

“Because everyone you’ve ever really loved disappointed you. I get it.” Gael sat up in bed, the sheet falling away and revealing the expanse of his bare chest and the dark ink of his new tattoo.

“Not everyone,” she protested, but then she realized Gael was right. Pretty much everyone. “My mother couldn’t help that she got sick.”

“No, but she left you all the same. Even though it wasn’t your fault. And your dad, you said he got remarried? Moved across the country?”

Mags nodded. She thought about