The Replay (Boys of Richland #3)

19. Cecilia

cecilia

. . .

The cursor blinks on my laptop screen, the words from my online homework assignment blurring together as my mind drifts.

I can’t seem to focus today.

I keep replaying our date at The Wolf Den two nights ago, how tense Gabriel was after talking to Adam. He hasn’t mentioned it since, and I haven’t pushed, but it’s been gnawing at me.

I sigh, rubbing my temples just as I hear my mom call from downstairs.

“Cecilia, you have a visitor!”

I frown, pushing away from my desk. The tone in her voice is—excited. I head downstairs, the soft creak of the stairs beneath my feet the only sound breaking the silence. When I reach the bottom, I pause. My mom is standing in the doorway, her eyes flicking between me and the porch.

“Guess who’s here?” she says with a wide grin as she steps aside.

Gabriel stands on the front porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his helmet. His eyes are shadowed with something I can’t quite place. He looks exhausted, worn out, like something’s pulling him under, and not for the first time today, my stomach tightens with worry.

I thought we were meeting later tonight?

“Gabriel …” His name barely makes it past my lips.

My mom senses the weight of the moment and offers a small, understanding smile. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” She disappears into the kitchen, leaving us alone.

Gabriel steps forward, his mouth bracketed with strain, but before I can ask what’s wrong, he speaks. “Can you come out with me? Please. I know it’s early but …”

It’s the “please” that gets me. It’s clipped, heavy, like he’s holding onto something he can’t control. I don’t ask questions. I don’t need to. I just nod. “Give me a second.”

I rush back upstairs, grabbing my shoes and the first sweater I find, my heart thudding in my chest. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, it’s eating at him.

When I return to the porch, Gabriel’s still there, leaning against the railing. The weight in his posture tells me more than any words could right now. He hands me his helmet, the familiar shadow of the matte black visor swallowing the light.

“Here,” he says, his voice quiet.

I take the helmet, slip it on, and follow him to his bike. The engine roars to life as I climb on behind him, my arms wrapping around his waist. The leather of his jacket is cool under my fingers, the solid warmth of his body grounding me.

We take off down the street, the wind whipping against my face, the sound of the bike drowning out everything else. Gabriel drives like he’s got nowhere to be, weaving through the streets of Richland with no real destination in mind. I can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten every time we stop at a light, how he grips the handlebars like he’s holding on for dear life.

My worry grows with each mile. Something’s bothering him, gnawing at him, but I know him well enough to know he’s not ready to talk about it. Not yet. Right now I’m just grateful he came and got me. This is his way of letting me in.

Twenty minutes pass, having taken the scenic route, before we pull up in front of his place. I take off the helmet, my hair a tangled mess, but I don’t care. I slide off the bike, watching as Gabriel gets off slowly, like the burden of whatever’s on his mind is dragging him down.

“Come on,” he says, his voice low.

He reaches out for my hand, and I place my palm in his before following him up the porch steps.

The house is quiet, but I doubt it’s empty. The guys are probably all just in their rooms or maybe hanging out back. Gabriel heads to the living room, flicks on the TV, and then drops onto the sofa, tugging me down with him, “Wanna watch a movie?”

It’s a distraction. A way to fill the silence without having to talk, but I agree anyway. “Sure.”

We sit on the couch, side by side, but Gabriel’s stiff. He’s trying to act normal, but I can feel it—the tension radiating off him, the way his leg bounces slightly, how his arms are folded tight across his chest. His mind is somewhere else, miles away from me and this living room.

I glance at him, my chest aching for him. What the hell happened today to make him like this?

Gently, I reach out, my fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. I trace the hard lines of his abdomen, the ridges of muscle warm under my touch. He sucks in a sharp breath, his body going still, and when he turns to look at me, his gaze is heated, intense. The storm in his eyes shifts, turning from frustration to something darker, something desperate.

Suddenly, the tension in the room morphs into something heavier. There’s this charge in the air now.

Gabriel moves fast, his lips crashing into mine with a desperation that makes my heart race. He kisses me like he’s starving for something only I can give him, and I melt into it, my hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer. His fingers are in my hair, his touch rough and possessive as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping across mine in a way that sends heat spiraling through me.

Before I know it, I’m straddling his lap, my knees on either side of his hips, grinding down against him. He groans into my mouth, his hands sliding up my thighs, gripping me tight. His hips thrust up to meet mine, the friction between us electric, every movement sending a jolt of pleasure through my body.

My breath is coming in short gasps, my heart pounding in my chest. I can feel him, hard and ready beneath me, and a thrill shoots through me, my body reacting without thought. But just as I lose myself in the heat of it, a thought slams into me like a cold bucket of water.

Gabriel doesn’t live alone. Shit.

I pull back, my chest heaving as I meet his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his breathing just as ragged as mine. He frowns, confusion etched into his face.

“We … we should go upstairs,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, my cheeks flaming.

Gabriel blinks, processing my words, then a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. “Yeah, we should,” he murmurs, his hands sliding to my waist. He lifts me off his lap, standing and pulling me with him.

“Let’s get out of here before someone walks in,” he adds, his voice low and rough with desire.

I don’t argue. My heart’s still racing, my body thrumming with the need for more.

The second we’re locked behind his bedroom door, something snaps inside Gabriel.

He spins me around, pressing me up against the cool wood, his body flush against mine. His hands grip my hips, firm and unyielding, and his lips are back on mine, kissing me with a hunger that steals the breath right from my lungs. There’s no hesitation, no gentleness—just raw need. His urgency is all-consuming and desperate, the heat of his body searing through my clothes.

The tension that’s been building between us finally snaps, and it’s like a dam breaking, all of that frustration pouring into the way he touches me.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls against my lips, his breath hot and ragged as his fingers slip beneath my sweater, pushing it up over my head. The material hits the floor, forgotten, and his hands are everywhere—roaming over my skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He’s rougher than usual, and I feel it in every touch, every graze of his fingertips, as if he’s no longer treating me with kid gloves.

Every brush of his hands against my skin feels electric, each touch sending shivers straight to my core.

I shudder under his touch, my heart pounding in my chest. He’s overwhelming in the best way, his body, his presence, all-consuming. There’s an intensity I haven’t felt from him before, something raw, unchecked, like he’s done holding back.

I can feel his heartbeat hammering in sync with mine, the heat rolling off him in waves. I reach for his shirt, tugging at the hem, desperate to feel his skin against mine.

Gabriel rips his shirt off, the movement quick and rough, like he can’t stand the distance between us for a second more.

And then he’s on me again, his hands cupping my face as his mouth moves against mine. I sink into it, into him, my fingers digging into the hard lines of his shoulders as I arch into his touch, needing more.

Gabriel’s hands slide down my sides, gripping the waistband of my jeans. With a quick flick, he unbuttons them, pushing them down over my hips in one swift motion. I kick them off, my skin already buzzing with anticipation. But the way he moves, there’s no softness, only possessiveness—like I’m something he needs to claim and mark.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark, filled with raw desire. “God. You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with hunger, almost reverent, like he’s seeing me for the first time. His fingers trace the edge of my panties, teasing, and I gasp, my body arching toward him.

“Gabriel,” I sigh, my voice breathy.

He smirks, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “Tell me what you need, baby.” His voice is a low growl, his breath hot against my ear as his fingers dip lower, teasing me through the fabric.

“I need you,” I gasp, my hands clutching at his arms, my short nails digging into his skin. “I need more.”

His grip tightens on my hips, the bruising pressure unmistakable, but I don’t care. I want this side of him.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down the column of my throat, kissing, biting, sucking, until my head falls back against the door, a moan slipping from my lips. His teeth scrape against my skin, rougher than before, and it sends a spark of heat straight to my core.

With one swift motion, he yanks my panties down, tossing them aside, and then his fingers are on me, sliding between my thighs, teasing the heat of my core. I’m trembling, my breath coming in quick bursts as his fingers find the slickness between my legs. I whimper. His touch sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, his breath hot against my skin. “This all for me?”

I can barely respond, my breath coming in short gasps as his fingers work me into a frenzy, each stroke pulling me closer and closer to the edge. My legs feel weak, my body shaking, but Gabriel’s there, his other arm wrapped around my waist, holding me steady. His grip is firm, controlling, and I’m at his mercy, falling apart under his touch.

“Please,” I beg, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I need you, Gabriel.

His eyes darken, something dangerous flickering in their depths, and in one swift movement, he lifts me off the ground, carrying me like I weigh nothing.

My back hits the mattress, and he’s over me, his lips devouring mine. His hands are everywhere, rough and demanding, and I can feel the hardness of him pressing against me, thick and ready between the material of his jeans.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough, his lips bruising.

“I’m yours,” I breathe, arching up into him, my hands fisting in his hair. “I’ve always been yours.”

That’s all it takes.

Gabriel shoves down his jeans and underwear before positioning himself between my thighs. His movements are rough, impatient, as if he can’t stand the wait any longer. “You want me to fuck you?” he asks.

Hearing him ask it like that, it causes butterflies to explode in my stomach because yes, I’d very much like for him to fuck me right now.

“Yes. Please.”

In one smooth thrust, he fills me completely. There’s no hesitation, no slowness—just raw, unfiltered need. The air leaves my lungs, a strangled moan slipping out as my body adjusts to the stretch. My back arches off the bed, the sensation overwhelming, but so, so good. He stills for a moment, his forehead pressing against mine, both of us breathing hard.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice strained, his breath hot against my skin. “You feel so fucking good. Your pussy squeezing my cock.”

I can’t speak, can’t think. All I can do is feel—every inch of him inside me, the way he stretches me, fills me, consumes me. There’s no tenderness in his thrusts. They’re rough, demanding, pushing me to the edge faster than I thought possible.

His steady pace becomes something more urgent, more desperate, and Gabriel’s thrusts get even harder, faster. His fingers dig into my hips, his breaths coming faster, rougher, like he’s losing control. With each snap of his hips, it’s as if he’s trying to imprint himself on me.

“Gabriel!” I moan, my nails digging into his back, desperate for something to hold onto. The pleasure builds and builds until I can’t take it anymore.

His hand wraps around my neck, taking me by surprise. My eyes widen and his fingers apply just enough pressure for the adrenaline to kick in.

I gasp.

His eyes lock on mine. “Come for me, baby,” he growls, his eyes never straying. “Let go. Let me feel your pussy strangle my dick.”

And I do.

I come undone, the tension in my body snapping all at once, pleasure crashing through me in waves so intense I can’t even scream.

My orgasm rips through me, my body shaking, trembling beneath him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. Gabriel isn’t far behind, his movements becoming frantic, desperate, and then he’s groaning my name, his body tensing as he finds his own release.

For a moment, everything is still, quiet except for the sound of our breathing, heavy and uneven. Gabriel stays there, his body pressed against mine, his weight comforting.

He shudders, and I close my eyes, sinking into the warmth of him, the feel of his heartbeat evening out against my chest. My hands lift, fingers running through his hair.

“I’ve got you,” I tell him. Letting him know I’m here. Whenever he’s ready to talk. I’m right here.