Wrecked

Sharon's POV

I nearly had a heart attack once my door unlocked itself. A cheery greeting floated from the living room into the kitchen. I stepped out with curled fists.

"Ring the damn door bell, Gabriel!"

Gabe's hands came up fast and he backed up a step.

"Sure, whatever you want, primadonna. Just… Please don't point that at me."

Coming out of a stupor, I glanced at the kitchen knife tightly grasped in my right hand. Whoops. I totally forgot about that. With a sheepish grin, I lowered the pointy utensil.

"It's your fault for scaring me, jerk. What if I did stab you? My apartment would be ruined!"

"That's one way to look at it." I looked around for good measure, surveying the lovely beige, white and pale blue tones adorning my living room. I definitely didn't want red on any of it. "I told you I was coming over…"

"No, you didn't."

"I sent a text." My mouth formed a small O. "Where did you leave your phone this time?" good question, good question. Let's see… Gabriel felt it was safe to detach himself from the front door and prowl deeper into the living room. He started ticking off places, "Your sports' bag, your jean's pocket, your bag, your bedside table, in the bathroom, in the toilet—"

"It's not in the toilet!"

He gave a shrug.

"One time it fell in." My right hand came up to slap my face, but I stopped myself halfway. Spotting Gabe's horrified expression, I quickly lowered the hand still holding the darn knife. "I think I should put down the knife."

"Please." He stressed.

Doing a one-eighty, I walked back into the kitchen and left the kitchen knife on the counter. Once I rejoined him, Gabe was kneeling in front of the small couch. He tugged forward a dark beige cushion and dug around the vacated space. A victorious smirk lit his entire face.

My jaw dropped in sheer amazement as Gabe held up my phone.

"How the hell…?"

Gabe crossed the distance to where I was, still staring bug-eyed.

"All four pillows were piled up on one side. They´re only like that whenever you sit on the couch." Color me even more impressed.

"That's… kind of scary."

Gabe forked over the phone. Sure enough, a text notification appeared once I tapped the screen twice.

"I'm observant. Plus, you have this little OCD affliction going for you."

Green eyes drilled into pale blue ones.

"Just because I like keeping things tidy doesn't mean I have OCD." My stony stare fell to shambles as Gabe reached between us, grabbing the hem of my fleece pajama. I thought he was going to drop a comment about how cute the stamped owl was, but Gabe's eyebrows just furrowed as he rubbed the soft material between his fingers. "Are you high?"

He snorted, "No." he released the shirt. I noticed his fingers had a pinkish hue. Yep, this November was being unforgivably cold.

"Why do you wear cut-off gloves? It makes no sense." Gabe buried the uncovered fingers into his pockets. He started around me, heading for the kitchen. I rolled my eyes; I knew the answer was 'it makes me look cool'. Gabe's clothes looked like they could've been bought in any average store, dark jeans, white sweater coupled with a red hooded jacket and a black overcoat. They all belonged to expensive brands, since his father taught him that people on their social economic level should dress accordingly to exude their worth; since Gabriel wasn't into the preppy style, he found a loophole by finding designers that catered to his liking and costs.

"You're staring at my ass."

I charged into the small kitchen with hands on my hips. Gabe cracked a grin, eyes scanning me top to bottom. I looked ridiculous in my cuddly pajamas and white reindeer slippers. His eyes sparked with amusement at the sight of said footwear.

"Someone went shopping." I had. It was creepy that he knew that. Or… sweet. Yeah, it was sweet, but I didn't want to give him points for knowing my wardrobe. "Did you buy a beanie?" My face fell. "You're hopeless without me." he leaned back in the chair.

"I have a lot on my mind, okay?" I could've made a list. "And you're interrupting dinner." The making of it, anyway. I returned to my battle station near the stove. "Why are you here?"

"I need a reason to drop by?" I pinned him with a look over a shoulder. "I just wanted to talk."

"That's what phones are for."

"Yeah, Share, 'cause you're totes reliable when it comes to those." I blushed. I needed to keep focused on not chopping off a finger. "I was bored. I knew you'd be home alone because that's all you do now… So. Remember last week? I came over to talk."

"And we ended up smoking and not talking. Yep, I remember."

There was a small pause.

"My parents are getting divorced."

This time, I set down the knife before whirling around.

"Why?"

"I haven't got a clue."

"What?"

Gabe's shoulders hiked and dropped lazily.

"Mom's not returning any of my calls. I haven't seen Dad since he dropped the D-bomb."

I schooled my expression into something akin to sympathy. Which was very difficult for me to manage, "How long ago was that?"

"About a month." I grabbed the kitchen rag and slapped him on the shoulder. That type of split-anger didn't need faking. He retreated from my range, "What the hell?"

"You've known for a month and you're telling me now?"

"Well, yeah?" Gabe said; it sounded more like a question than an affirmation. He snatched the rag from me. "At first, I thought Dad didn't mean it. But they haven't talked to me since then, so… I guess it's true."

I wish I could say that Gabriel was the only one in our duo capable of withholding a secret for so long. If only he knew what I knew. If only he knew why this news lifted my spirits and made me rejoice that Alexandra was leaving Gareth…

He got up, towering over me. I found that standing next to Gabe without high heels was a little intimidating. The top of my head grazed inches above the middle of his chest. Plus, the whole having-to-look-up-at-him thing was hard on the neck. Mom was taller than me, so, I blamed the missing parental figure: my father.

"Let's switch," I blinked at his soft voice. "I cook and you glare at my back."

Gabriel shrugged off both the overcoat and hoodie jacket, dropping them on a kitchen chair. He rolled up both sleeves, exposing the tattoo inside his right forearm; the tattoo was comprised of two Danish words: 'menneske myte' which translated into 'human myth'. Gabe wasn't fluent in Danish, but he knew enough, since his mother was originally from Denmark. As soon as I sat down, my legs, feet and toes sung with eternal bliss. In that moment, I completely forgave Gabriel for scaring me shitless; he was finishing dinner and that made me purr like a happy kitten. Plus, I got to watch him; I lowered my face onto crossed arms as Gabe reached for salt.

Gabriel always had this… determined expression while cooking. He didn't pay any mind to anyone unless you called out his name; there was a good chance he wouldn't listen if I said I was planning to bungee-jump off the Empire State. I sighed, allowing myself to trace the square cheekbones, the straight nose, his thin, slightly downward-lips, stopping at the piercing on his left earlobe. Wisps of straight, whitish blond hair poked from underneath his black beanie.

A bright cerulean eye peeked at me.

"Am I the greatest eye-candy in all existence?"

I snorted at the lack of modesty.

"Please. You're not the greatest eye-candy in this apartment." Gabriel barked one of those intoxicating laughs. It made me smile despite the nest of vipers slithering and twisting in the pit of my stomach. I knocked romantic feelings into a blackhole, choosing to be who Gabriel needed me to be right now: his best friend. "How do you feel about the divorce?"

Gabriel dropped chopped broccoli, tomatoes and carrots into a pan; I'd planned on boiling them because whenever I sautéed them olive oil would fly everywhere. Gabriel didn't have that problem; he shook the pan like a Chef, unafraid of hot oil landing on his skin or of the vegetables kamikazeing to the floor.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "I never thought they'd split up. They always got along—well enough. And they have sex." Gabe had caught his parents going at it more times than someone caught us. "I'm not that bummed about them splitting. What bugs me is not knowing why." It was a little strange that his mother wouldn't return his calls; Gabriel was her baby-boy.

"Call your father." those words tasted like cement. The pale haired boy threw me a surprised look. "I don't like the guy but he's your Dad. Call him and ask."

My best friend relocated the pan to an unlit beaker. He grabbed another pan, poured a generous amount of olive oil and waited for it to heat.

"You know how he is. I'd have to schedule a meeting with him." and Gareth would go off on Gabriel for booking precious time reserved for clients. "I could swing by the old crib, try to catch wind of the guy…"

He twisted around, grabbing the steak I'd previously seasoned, lowering it into the frying pan. I was sulking by the time Gabe placed a plate with a juicy steak and vegetables in front of me. Along with a fork and a knife.

"Can I get you anything else, miss Stone?" he joked.

"A glass of OJ and two slices of Whole-Grain bread."

He tweaked my nose before moseying over to the glass cabinet. I grabbed the silverware and plate and ended up at the living room's dining table. Not two minutes later, Gabe emerged carrying a tall glass of OJ and a small plate with the bread slices. I was already eating.

"Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you, Jeeves."

"Hilarious." He dropped on the couch, lazily toeing off his Timberland boots. "What do you wanna watch?"

I stabbed a piece of broccoli and steak, reveling in the wonderful food.

"You pick," I managed around a mouthful; I think he chuckled. The screen came alive with CBS; it was some commentary about a football game between the Vikings and the Raiders.

"That guy's hot." Gabriel twisted around to face me. The curiosity on display killed me. "Just because I don't like football, doesn't mean I can't appreciate the players. Logan Ross is hot." I repeated, making a show of ogling the up-and-coming quarterback the Vikings had signed three years ago; he was twenty-two and a prodigy, was what the commentators said. "Hey!" Gabe skipped channels just as Logan's face appeared on the wide screen, ready for a short aftergame interview. "You just have to deal with the fact that you're not God's gift to Mankind, Gabe."

"Tell me that when I'm screwing your brains out."

"Your ego is way too inflated." It was hard to believe Gabe used to be a shy kid. Back then, the outgoing attitude had been fake bravado.

***

After I shut the dishwasher, Gabe cornered me against the sink and through a messy route, we ended up in bed. Tiredness was thrown out the window, toppled by the little things he'd done for me tonight.

It was hard to imagine a time when I'd towered over Gabe, but there had been such a time. When we met, he'd been a head shorter. Now, Gabe wasn't just taller, he was bigger; his chest was wide, his shoulders were broad, and his arm muscles were thick. Thank you boxing regiment, I thought as Gabe shifted, moving onto me. I slipped both hands along the cords of his neck. Gabriel was skin and muscle; he was a walking, talking tall glass of skimmed milk. My fingertips lightly brushed the starts of his scarred skin. Gabe's lips kissed their way across my clavicle, easily eviscerating memories of that horrid night. The night of his bike accident. But the bliss of physical pleasure threw another problem at me... I let out a rush of hot breath; Gabe's fingers had found the tips of my breasts eliciting such a strong, visceral reaction it caused the tricky romantic feelings to become a moot point. I didn't need to tell him to pinch harder, he knew what I liked and how I liked it. A soft sound whisked past my lips; Gabe's nose grazed along the length of my neck.

Our eyes met. Gabriel's eyes were darker near the pupil, almost indigo and, as the edges grew lighter, the hue was a soft cobalt. I roamed the mess of white-blond hair, the slow curving half-grin… Things I knew better than the back of my hand. I shivered, shrinking into myself; the apartment was heated, the cause of my shivering were Gabe's wandering fingers. They trailed down below, like they'd done so many times before, lightly teasing my hipbone—I jerked against him. He laughed that handsome laugh of his as I squirmed, trying to hold back squeals.

I failed miserably.

"Stop—" I heaved, cheeks burning with laughter. He didn't. My knee bounced against his naked hip. Gabe made a face, "…come on… please!"

"It's not my fault you're ticklish." What a self-satisfied ass. I managed to place one hand on Gabe's chest, while desperately attempting to pry his tormenting hand from the vicinity of my hips and thighs with the other. God dammit, why couldn't he be ticklish? Gabe seized my struggling hand, pinning it beside my head. I took that moment to move the hand on his chest lower—much lower.

His entire body jolted to a stop. Surprise left him rapidly, leaving an amused and sexy expression in its wake.

"Be gentle," he grunted with a chuckle as I squeezed his cock. "I was just playing, Share."

Bracing myself on an elbow, I brought our faces closer. Eyes locked on his, I began to pump him, slowly. Deliberately. Gabe's long lashes lowered and his mouth spasmed open before clamping shut. Getting Gabe off was like pointe work by now. When he hardened for me I picked up the pace, focusing my attention near the tip where he was more sensitive.

The hand restraining my wrist slacked. Gabe's lashes fluttered open.

"You're so damn good. Shit." He panted. I heaved a laugh; Gabe didn't have a way with words, some things never changed. I batted away the dark thoughts about us never changing either, about it hurting and about what… "Hey," he whispered. I opened my eyes, unaware that I had shut them in the first place. "Something wrong?"

My lips parted. I stopped the words from tumbling out; my hand was in a mechanical movement while my brain was doing its best to hinder the moment. I wanted to say 'no', I wanted things to go back to how they were before… Before I realized I was in love with my best friend. Who was also my fuck buddy. My greatest confidant.

"I'm just stressed out." that wasn't a lie. I was stressed about plenty of things.

One icy-blond eyebrow arched. He kissed me. Everything fell away, into a black void. For a moment, there was nothing but the gentle touch of his lips on mine. How weird was it that ten years later, I was still making out with the first boy I'd ever kissed? Who cares, I thought, Gabriel's gotten so much better. Our tongues interlocked in a leisure dance, the kind that flushed my entire body. Fingers curled around my working hand, halting the movement. He parted our mouths and then two fingers were pressing into my clit, eliciting a sharp moan.

"Slick as a…"

"Gabriel—" the warning was cut off with another cry as those two fingers waltzed inside, burying themselves in me. I was so ready I'd barely felt them slide in. Gabe stretched me; he drank me in with a smug look. I couldn't help myself. I writhed under him, letting out every sound, reacting to each shiver.

"…but you like it when I talk dirty." I heard him murmur.

"I'm not in the mood tonight."

Gabe cocked his head. His eyes drifted somewhere above me for a long minute; his fingers kept doing their thing, though. I reached out a hand to stroke his abs, wanting his gaze to return. I liked having his eyes on me whenever he got me off. If Mom knew the dirty things I'd done and did with Gabe, she would—possibly—disown me.

"Want me to introduce you to Logan Ross? I can do that." He asked, catching me off guard.

I eyeballed the daredevil smirk. Gabe was lucky I liked his face because I had the urge to punch a hole through it.

"Yes," was my answer. "I totally want to have sex with Logan." Nope, I mean, the guy was stunning, but… I'm into blonds, I thought, letting out a scathing sniffle.

Gabe's thumb ghosted my clit, stealing a breath.

"Careful, though, I hear he's got a serious girlfriend. We can role play if you want." Gabe's fingers brushed an extra-sensitive spot inside; I shuddered into him. "I can do the dude's accent…" Gabriel stopped for a second; his eyebrows scrunched in deep thought. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart."

"No! That's terrible," I giggled at the terrible mix of accents he was pulling from, trying to replicate Logan's Virginia accent. "Shut up and do a good job."

Gabe dropped the accent shenanigans. He took a few seconds to look offended.

"Are you saying I'm doing a half-assed job?"

"It could use some improvement. For sure." His smirk grew to epic proportions. Gabe retreated, causing a rush of cold air to engulf me as he settled on both knees, straddling my thighs.

"For sure, huh?" Gabe's smirk became a blur. His head dipped between my legs. He knocked the wind right out of me; with both his fingers still inside, Gabe gave my sensitive bundle another flick. Yep, that was a much better of his tongue. I dug all ten fingers into his shaggy hair, running them across his scalp as my whole body shuddered—I gripped the blond hair as my walls tightened. Gabe circled me with the tip of his tongue; his fingers started going in and out. I pulled at his hair, hoping he'd take the hint and pick up the tempo. He ignored me, drawing things out. Gabriel loved foreplay.

He also liked making me work for things.

"Gabe," I said, keeping my voice even. "Go faster." He kept his head between my legs. And he kept the torturous pace. Shit. I was on the verge, if he just went a tiny bit faster… "Will you just…?" I heaved frustrated. Gabriel's mouth lifted and the building tension subsided a bit, leaving me disappointed.

Gabe's mouth and chin glistened in the soft light of my bedroom. Hot shivers started in my chest, traveling down to my stomach, causing it to curl.

"Don't pretend like you don't like this." I bit the inside of my cheek. I let out a ragged breath. I did like Gabe drawing things out. "Let me hear you say it."

I swallowed thickly.

"I like it."

He curled a hand around an ear, "What?"

My lips curled into a smirk of my own.

"I like it when you tease me."

"And?"

"I like it when you… don't let me cum right away."

"I like how you say cum." I blinked at him, not at all surprised. His head dipped again, causing my hips to buckle. Gabriel's lips became locked around the most sensitive part of me, suckling.

I'd been with other guys, but no one ever managed to make me orgasm just as spectacularly as Gabriel Holland. Briefly, as jolts coursed every nerve ending, I wondered if what I felt for him was love or just sexual attraction magnified by a thousand.

The mattress dipped under the sudden weight lounging beside me. My eyes jerked open when a slick substance touched my left nipple. Gabe kneaded the peak between the two slime covered fingers; sex was a lot less glamorous than movies made it out to be. My body was still recovering from the massive orgasm but I felt tight—uncomfortable. I needed something thicker than his fingers inside me.

Gabriel's gaze jumped from my pebbled nipples to my green eyes. I held my breath once he stopped toying with my chest. Yeah, I would give anything for these feelings to be derived from sex appeal.

"Am I a JD or a Turk?" I gaped. Just like that, he'd thrown me for a curve ball.

"Were you thinking about Scrubs this whole time?" Because once Gabe had something on his mind, he rarely let it go. Like a dog with a bone.

"Nah. That would be totally weird."

"You're so random." I laughed, flicking his chin. "Why would you even ask that?"

He gave a one shoulder shrug, telling me about his conversation with Trip.

"Trip's more of a Turk." I mused. "And you're... Well, you're not a JD." I couldn't match Gabe to anyone on that show. "You're more of a Joey."

"I'm not offended by that." On autopilot, I straddled Gabe. I pushed down on his shoulders enjoying his growing self-satisfied smile. "Are we done talking again?"

His hands grasped my buttocks. My thighs clenched his sides. We were definitely done talking. So, so done. I rummaged inside my nightstand's drawer finding a row of condoms. I tore one from the pack, expertly opening the package and rolling it down Gabe's penis.

Gabriel pressed his head into the pillow as I took my sweet time riding him, leaning forward a bit. I favored my left side while moving, making sure Gabriel hit that spot within me. Gabe thrust his hips to meet my movements; the bed whined as I moved faster, coming down harder. Gabe's fingers dug into my ass. The clenched abdominal muscles unwound suddenly, allowing pressure to break. My walls flexed several times, for a handful of seconds. Gabe drew an arm around me, pulling me flush against his solid chest, easing in and out. Then, he slowed before burying himself deep—with one strong jerk.

I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, catching my breath, the smell of sex and sweat filling my nose as I did.