All I Want Is You (26 page)

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Authors: Kayla Perrin

BOOK: All I Want Is You
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He chuckled softly when Malisa giggled, wiggling free from his touch. Continuing his mission, he massaged lather across her belly, pausing to pay homage to her belly button.
Malisa laughed. “That tickles!” she said as she pushed his hand away. Continuing his journey, he moved back up to her breasts, carefully kneading the nipples as they hardened beneath his touch. After devoting attention to the fleshy tissue, he finished his ministrations back at her shoulders.
Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Malisa hugged him close, rubbing the lather from her body against his broad chest. The steamy water cascaded down, rinsing soap into the drain. He felt good against her, and Malisa liked how her morning was starting.
Between them, his dick had hardened, seeking out her attention. Malisa lathered soap into both of her hands, then slowly glided her palm and fingers over the length of him. Gabriel inhaled swiftly, her touch shooting electrical currents through his bloodstream.
“Are you certain you locked that door?” Malisa questioned one last time, nipping at his Adam's apple.
He nodded, grunting his response, the intense pleasure of her ministrations muddling his thoughts.
“Then let's take this back to my bed,” she said, sliding out of his reach and grabbing a plush white towel.
As she sprawled across the bed, Gabriel's excitement was urgent, his raging libido moving him to wrap his hand around his rigid penis. The woman was gorgeous, her skin shimmering from dampness, water still running in trickles across her flesh. The room was hot and humid, and all he wanted was to throw himself between her legs and love her like she'd never been loved before. There was no need or want of any more foreplay.
Standing at the foot of the bed, he gripped both of her ankles and pulled her to him, her buttocks just barely hanging off the edge of the mattress. Lifting her legs against his chest and shoulders, he drove himself into her with one harsh thrust, one deep stroke after another, hitting his target with perfect precision. Malisa clutched the bedsheet and comforter between her small hands. She felt every muscle in her body become increasingly rigid with the most delicious sexual tension. Pleasure fired like a missile from deep in her core. When he exploded with her, Gabriel cried out loudly, tears rising under his eyelids.
Their bodies clung together, wracked with spasms of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Their moans and incoherent verbalizations echoed loudly around the bedroom. And then they relaxed, exhausted, their hearts thumping in unison.
“My God! That was unbelievable!” Gabriel murmured at last.
Malisa nodded in agreement, her hands caressing the sides of his torso. “Oh, yeah!”
Rolling onto his side, Gabriel dropped his palm to her abdomen, caressing her gently. “I vote that we wake up together and do this every morning!”
Chapter 14
The secretary sitting at the desk was a temp from the agency, Gabriel's administrative assistant having the week off for the holiday. He greeted the robust woman warmly, humming to himself as he stepped past the glass-topped reception desk.
“Good morning, Mrs. Dade,” he said.
The matronly woman nodded in greeting. “Good afternoon, Mr. Whitman,” she responded, chuckling heartily. “The time got away from you this morning, I see.”
Gabriel laughed, remembering how hard it had been for him and Malisa to tear themselves away from each other and out of her bed. “Is it afternoon already?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “Well, yes, ma'am, I guess it did.” He laughed heartily. “Anyway, how are you doing?”
“I am doing quite well, Mr. Whitman. I didn't see my name in the obituaries this morning, so I have no complaints.”
Gabriel laughed. “That's a good thing! Do I have anything pressing today?”
“No, sir. Your attorney called to say that he won't be available until after the New Year but that if you had an emergency, you know his private number. Also, Mr. Hodges from acquisitions left some reports for you to review. Oh, and you had a few urgent telephone calls. Your son called and asked that you call him as soon as possible. Your sister called and said that it's important that you call her, and Mrs. Whitman called. She asked that you call her back the minute you get her message.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Mrs. Whitman?”
The woman passed him the pink message sheets. “She said she was your wife and that it was important she speak with you.”
Recognizing Delores's cell phone number, Gabriel grimaced. “The only Mrs. Whitman I know is my mother, and she is out of the country. This is my ex-wife, Ms. Winn. But thank you.”
The woman tossed him a quick smile. “Yes, sir. Have you had lunch yet? Is there anything I can get for you, sir?” she asked, rising from her seat.
Shaking his head no, Gabriel moved into his office and closed the door behind him. He searched the breast pocket of his jacket for his cell phone and then remembered that the last time he'd seen it was when he'd knocked it off of Malisa's nightstand to the floor. He'd have to get it back from her later, he thought, annoyed that he hadn't missed it sooner.
He had known that it would be only a matter of time before he would have to have a conversation with Delores. He had hoped that it would have been much later, like closer to never, but luck was never on his side when it came to his ex-wife. He couldn't begin to imagine what was so urgent that both Trey and his sister had called for him at the office.
He reached for the phone on his desk and dialed his son's cell phone number. When the young man picked up, he was clearly upset, sounding like he'd been crying or was well on his way to teardom. Anxiety suddenly exploded in the pit of Gabriel's stomach.
“Trey, what's the matter, son?”
The first few minutes of their conversation were practically incoherent as the boy sobbed into the receiver. It took much prodding for Gabriel to understand that there had been some kind of encounter with the boy's mother, the two having butted heads. His anxiety dropped substantially, him being used to the bouts between Trey and Delores.
“Okay, Trey, you need to calm down, please. Where's your aunt Naomi?”
“Here.”
“Let me speak with her, please.”
Gabriel waited as the boy passed the phone to Naomi. He could hear his sister take a deep breath before suggesting to Trey that he go to his room until she called for him to come back downstairs. He heard her promise to return the youngster's cell phone as soon as she was done with the call. As Trey's footsteps faded off into the distance, Naomi said hello.
“Hey, what's going on?”
His sister's distressed tone reaccelerated his unease. “That crazy beast is completely out of control!” Naomi almost shouted into the telephone.
“Who? What happened?”
Naomi took a deep breath, then gave her brother a blow-by-blow snapshot of what had happened in his home.
“Trey and I were having breakfast when Delores suddenly showed up. She was all sugar and spice, promising to take him to buy sneakers and saying he could drive her car if he spent the day with her. The next thing I know, the two of them are in your bedroom screaming at each other like they'd gone absolutely mad.
“Delores had asked to use the bathroom, and apparently, instead, she went up to your room to see if she could find any evidence that would prove you were allowing Malisa to spend the night here. Trey caught her and told her to stop, and she insisted that she could do whatever she wanted. That's when all hell broke loose. She tore up your room, threw stuff, broke stuff—you name it, she did it. It looks like a damn hurricane went through here. They exchanged words and she punched him in the face.”
Gabriel could feel his blood beginning to boil. “She punched him?”
Naomi paused. “And Trey hit her back.”
He pulled his hand over his face, his good mood having swooped right out the door. “Where is Delores now?”
“Gone, but not before threatening to press charges against Trey for assaulting her. He's been hysterical ever since.”
“I declare, Naomi. What the hell is wrong with those two? That's her son for Christ's sake!”
“Delores couldn't care less about Trey,” Naomi said emphatically. “She's a miserable beast and she uses that child. When she isn't trying to buy his affection, she ignores him. It's crazy and you know it. And you're crazy for continuing to allow it,” his sister concluded, interjecting her opinion.
For a split second, Gabriel thought that his sister might be right. He had no understanding why Trey and his mother could not get along. From the moment the boy was old enough to express his own opinion, he and Delores had waged war with each other. The intensity of their conflicts had gotten so bad that before taking up permanent residence with his father, Trey had been kicked out of his mother's home on two separate occasions before he'd reached the age often. Her throwing the young boy's possessions into the street and screaming for him to get out had been the last straw for the entire family.
When Gabriel thought about the relationship he had with his own mother, the woman being his best friend in the whole wide world, he felt as if he had personally failed his only child. He sighed heavily.
“Okay, I'm coming home. I should be there in a few minutes.”
“I'm sorry, big brother. I'm sorry that you and Trey have to go through this,” Naomi said just before disconnecting the call.
As Gabriel stared off into the distance, he was sorry too. From day one, it had always been something with Delores. Had he listened to his sister and his mother back then, it was likely that he would never have gotten into a relationship with her at all. But headstrong and stupid, he thought he knew better than them all, and Delores had been making him pay the price ever since.
He dialed his ex-wife's number and waited for her to answer. When the call connected, there was a heavy pause, a lengthy moment of silence during which Trey's mother said absolutely nothing.
“Hello? Delores?”
“It's about time you called,” she said finally. “Why does it take two days for you to return my calls?”
“What happened at my house this morning, Delores?” he responded.
She paused. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You didn't get into an altercation with Trey?”
“Trey and I had a disagreement.”
“You hit him.”
“Trey needs to be disciplined. He is out of control.”
“And you tore my house up.”
“I did no such thing,” she said, the blatant lie rolling off her tongue with ease.
Gabriel was suddenly disgusted with everything about the woman. His disgust was bordering on bitter hatred, and he didn't like the feeling at all.
“We need to sit down and talk,” Delores said, breaking the silence that had risen between them. “I can come to the house later and . . .”
Gabriel shook his head, forgetting that she couldn't see him on the other end of the phone. “No,” he said emphatically.
“Excuse me?”
“No. We don't need to talk, and you cannot come to my house. You are no longer welcome in my home. If you need to see Trey, I will bring him to you. You are welcome to pick him up if he wants to see you, but he'll have to meet you at the gate. You are
not
welcome back into my home or on my property ever again. Is that clear, Delores?”
On the other end, the woman sputtered, words like concrete blocks caught in her throat. The expletives that eventually came spewed through thin, empty air. Having already disconnected their call, Gabriel didn't hear one word.
 
 
Gabriel stood in the doorway of his room, assessing the mess that now adorned his quiet sanctuary. The bedclothes had been ripped off the bed. His clothes had been tossed from one side of the room to the other. A dresser drawer hung askew. The papers atop his work desk had been tossed to the floor, and his collection of cologne bottles were shattered on the floor.
Assessing the devastation, he couldn't begin to imagine what had moved Delores to be so destructive. As he stepped into his room, Trey came up behind him.
“Sorry, Dad. I tried to stop her. I really did.”
Gabriel appraised his son's tear-streaked face. He cupped his fingers beneath Trey's chin and tilted the kid's face upward. There was a noticeable bruise tinged with a hint of red along his left profile.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, his gaze meeting his son's stare.
Trey shrugged. “Not much.”
“And Naomi tells me that you hit your mother?”
The boy pushed his shoulders skyward a second time. His eyes dropped to the floor as he cast his gaze downward. “I didn't mean to,” he said softly. “It just happened.”
Still staring at the child, Gabriel nodded ever so slightly. It was moments like this one that reminded him of just how much maturing Trey still had to do. His tone was calm and even as he responded. “Nothing ever just happens, Trey. People make choices, and you made a really bad choice. So now you're grounded. You are not to come out of your room until I say you can. And you need to leave your iPhone on my dresser.”
“But, Dad—” Trey started, intent on defending himself.
“But nothing, Trey. Son, I don't care what Delores does. She is still your mother, and you will not disrespect her. I don't know what you were thinking, but you don't put your hands on any woman, for any reason, ever.”
Trey tried again. “But she hit me first!”
“And that puts her in the wrong too. You should have called me and let me deal with her. Better yet, you should have just let your aunt Naomi handle it. But you had no right to hit her. None. And I don't care if she is whaling on your behind just for the fun of it, don't you ever put your hands on her again. She is your mother! What you did is completely intolerable, and I will not put up with you doing it ever again. Do I make myself clear?”
Trey muttered under his breath.
“I didn't hear you,” Gabriel admonished.
There was no missing the seriousness of his father's tone. He was angry and Trey knew he needed to tread lightly. “I said yes, you made yourself clear. I won't ever do it again.”
Gabriel continued. “If it happens again, Trey, I'm going to wear your ass out. And don't get it twisted that I won't. You are not grown yet.”
Trey took a deep breath, held it, then blew the air back out. “Yes, sir,” he said.
Gabriel nodded, pulling his son into his arms. He kissed the top of the kid's head, gently caressing his back and shoulders.
“I love you,” Gabriel said softly.
Trey nodded his head against his father's chest. “I love you, too, Dad.”
Releasing his hold, Gabriel moved to pick up the mess strewn around the room. He gestured toward his dresser, tossing one last look in his son's direction. “Leave your iPhone over there,” he said sternly.
 
 
Hours later, when Gabriel made it back downstairs, he found Malisa standing in his kitchen. She was wrapped in a floral-print apron, taste-testing a simmering pot of brown gravy that bubbled on the stovetop.
“Hey!” he said, the surprise of the moment echoing in his voice. “When did you get here?”
Malisa smiled as she reached up to kiss his mouth. “A while ago. Naomi called,” she said, gesturing in his sister's direction.
“I called her,” Naomi echoed from her seat on the sofa, her gaze focused on an episode of
Oprah
.

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