A new emotion flashes across his face, and I know that it’s not grief, it’s fear. He’s thinking about the surgery too. Neither of us say it, but somewhere deep down inside us lives the tiniest shred of possibility that this could be our last day together. I push the tainted thought out of my mind. “Everything is going to be okay,” I whisper.
The little line appears over the bridge of his nose as if on cue. I reach up and smooth it with my thumb. “It’s going to be okay,” I repeat.
He crawls over me, leaving hot, wet kisses in his wake that make my eyes close a little. Then he hooks his fingers in my panties and slowly slides them down my legs. He slips them past my feet, holds them to his nose, and inhales a deep breath.
“Are you smelling my panties?” I laugh.
“I never want to forget how you smell.”
I make a funny face, but I understand what he’s doing. He thinks he could forget after the surgery.
“You smell amazing,” he assures me. He drops his mouth to my ankle and kisses me slowly all the way up to my hip, stopping to breathe me in again. He kisses between my legs softly, just once, just long enough to make me moan and arch my back beneath him.
He drags his nose and lips across my stomach, alternating between deep breaths and soft kisses all the way up to my breasts, which get the added attention of his hands. I lie with my eyes closed, feeling his mouth on me, feeling him breathe me in, feeling his strong hands on my body.
He moves to my neck and trails kisses up to my ear. “I love you, Liv,” he whispers, and I can hear the fear in his voice now. He looks at me with desperation in his eyes, the little line permanently affixed over the bridge of his nose now. “No matter what happens tomorrow, always know that.”
I swallow hard and nod my head. “I know, Gabriel. I know you love me.”
“Promise me you’ll never forget. Promise me that you’ll always remember how much I love you right now, how much I have always loved you.”
“Gabe—”
“Just promise me, okay? Please,” he pleads.
“Okay. I promise.”
He nods his head and I watch the fear leave his eyes. But it lands right in the middle of my chest and I have to stifle the low buzz of panic that’s now coursing through me. I say another quick prayer. Please, God, please let him be okay tomorrow.
He kisses me passionately and I kiss him back, like it’s the last time I’m ever going to kiss him. I try to memorize the way his tongue feels against mine, the way he tastes, the way his full lips fit perfectly over mine. I wrap my hands behind his neck, taking note of the way his warm skin feels under my palms and the way his wavy hair falls slightly over my fingers. The left side of his head will be shaved for the surgery tomorrow, so I take a moment to appreciate his dark brown locks. I run my fingers through it, gripping it in my hands, and he moans, low and deep. “Je te veux.” I want you.
I nod, panting beneath him as he shrugs out of his sweatpants and kneels on the bed beside me. I want to trace every line of his body with my eyes, but he moves too quickly.
“Wait,” I say, and he pauses. “Don’t move.” I take in his exquisite male form, from his broad shoulders down to his strong thighs. I trace every line of the muscles in his chest and torso, lingering on his eight pack and the well-defined V that sits just below it.
He looks confused and a little concerned.
I smile up at him. “You’re just so beautiful.”
His cupid’s bow lips stretch into a wide smile over his straight white teeth and my heart skips a beat, fluttering inside my chest. He crawls over me and kisses me again, pushing my legs apart with his knees. He reaches between us and I feel his fingers glide between my legs. He moans into my mouth and I moan back to tell him that I’m ready, I’m so ready.
“Souviens combien Je t'aime...toujours.” Remember how much I love you...always.
“Toujours.” Always.
He sinks into me, filling me, satisfying me, and I don’t know which part of him to focus on first. I want to memorize every part of him this way. Every sensation that he sends through my body with his. The way that his strong arms cradle my shoulders when he holds himself above me. The way they feel flexing under my hands when I grip them. The weight of his body pressing against my hips. I close my eyes and savor the feeling of him moving in and out of me.
He paces his thrusts to a steady rhythm and laces his fingers with mine, pressing my hands into the pillows by my head while he makes slow, sweet love to me, alternating kisses on my lips with deep breaths against my neck.
I could make love to Gabe like this for hours, if our bodies would allow, which mine won’t. I can’t stop the orgasm I feel building.
“Not yet,” Gabe whispers, reading my body, which he knows as well as his own. He leans up and kneels beside me. Then he smiles and flips me over.
“Gabe,” I laugh into the pillow, which my face is now smushed into, and battle my hair out of my eyes.
He leans over my back, putting his mouth next to my ear, and says, “I want you every way I can have you today.”
I smile over my shoulder. “I’m all yours.”
He laughs and I feel the weight of the day leaving us.
Chapter 23
Liv
I glance over at Gabe in my passenger seat. He has to check in for surgery at 6am and the hospital is an hour away. Suffice it to say, it’s early. It’s still dark actually, but I can see the faint orange glow of the sun on the edge of the horizon with the promise of a new day—one that will mark the beginning of a seizure-free life for Gabe.
Nervous excitement floods me.
Gabe’s parents are following us to the hospital and my mom and dad are going to meet us there. It’s going to be a long day for all of us. The surgery itself should only take a few hours, but the pre-op and post-op procedures will take just as long. Once they take Gabe back, we won’t see him again until the afternoon.
I’ve been trying to prepare myself for when I see him after the surgery. His head will be partially shaved and bandaged, but he won’t have the bruising and swelling like last time. Most of that was incurred during the accident. I expect he’ll be groggy and he’ll probably have a massive headache. I just want to be there to comfort him as much as possible.
I made him a get-well bag that he doesn’t know about. It’s loaded with his favorite candy—Peanut Butter M&M’s, Jolly Ranchers, and Skittles—his favorite movies—Ocean’s Eleven, The Dark Knight, Creed II, The Hangover trilogy—a Men’s Health magazine, a photo book of all our old pictures, and lastly, a framed picture of Roxy. He’s going to have a lot of down time to fill over the next week. I figure that should get him through the first couple of days.
I reach over and rest my hand on the back of his neck, and run my fingers through his hair. “How do you feel?”
“Hungry”—he glances over at me—“and under-caffeinated.”
“Poor baby.” He wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight. He’s running on empty this morning. “Sorry,” I say, turning my head toward my window to sip my travel mug of coffee.
He narrows his eyes at me.
“Well, one of us has to stay alert. You’re about to take a three-hour nap.”