Michael had put the pills and juice on the nightstand? Had he undressed her? Her face heated to a million degrees. He looked at her funny. ‘What?’ Abigail fiddled with the buttons on her dress. Gabriel chose that moment to let out a long distressed groan followed by a hissed expletive. Michael set the coffee down and grabbed a bottle of pills that sat on the counter. ‘Ease up, old man. I’m coming,’ Michael huffed. After filling a glass with more juice from the fridge, he strode out to the living room and squatted down beside Gabe, who was rising up on his elbows with a grimace. Michael popped two pills into his mouth and tipped the glass to his lips. Gabriel swallowed, and when done scowled at Abigail. ‘H-hi,’ she whispered. Green eyes narrowed. Michael strode back into the kitchen. ‘Let me whip something up quick and I’ll get back to you, Gabe.’ ‘No,’ Abigail blurted. ‘I’ll make breakfast. You can tend to him.’ Put some clothes on him—she thought. Erica had made herself at home on. ‘You were always smiling. Don’t you remember?’ She smiled now, then laughed. She filled her hands with his hair and pulled his mouth to hers again, and she told him who she was now and how she wanted him, how she’d missed him—Jack, her Jack. She kissed him and bit his lips and felt him smiling back at her. He’d been right. Everything was deeper now, everything meant more than it had when they were young. There was excitement, but there was something heavier and more urgent too, something she hadn’t felt when they’d just made love before. She wanted him inside, but it was as if her body was unsure. A modesty had taken possession of her, and it wasn’t until she felt his hand between her legs that she was able to open her thighs for him. His finger right there, curious, loving, the way he’d always touched her, like she was a piece of art. He raised himself up on his arms and she waited breathlessly for him, her legs spread, her hands trembling uncertainly against her breasts. ‘So.
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