Sugar, Spice & Secrets

58

I stood beneath the steaming water of the shower, the events of the yesterday night played over and over in my mind like a broken record, each moment etched into my memory with vivid clarity.

Every position.

Every sound.

I love you.

Those three words—

With a sigh, I leaned against the tiled wall of the shower, letting the soothing heat ease the tension in my muscles. I couldn't help but wonder if it was me who had uttered those words, or if they had fallen from Gabriele's lips.

As I reached for the shampoo, my fingers trembled slightly, the memory of those words echoing in my mind like a haunting melody. I couldn't be sure, and the uncertainty gnawed at me like a persistent ache.

I poured a dollop of shampoo into my palm, the fragrant scent mingling with the steam-filled air as I worked it into my hair. Each movement was deliberate, yet my mind wandered, consumed by thoughts of Gabriele and those three words.

Had I fallen for him so quickly, so completely? Or was it simply the heat of the moment? Was he?

I rinsed the shampoo from my hair, the feeling of uncertainty lingered like a shadow in the back of my mind. What if our relationship was built on nothing more than lust? So far so good, all we've done was fucked—hard.

I stepped out of the shower, the steam dissipating around me as I wrapped myself in a towel and faced my reflection in the mirror.

As I stood before the mirror, drops of water trickling down my skin, I couldn't help but scrutinize my reflection. The face that stared back at me in the mirror seemed to hold the answers to all my questions, yet remained frustratingly silent. 

I dried myself off with the towel, the fabric soft against my skin. I ran a hand through my damp hair, feeling the soft strands slip through my fingers. They felt different somehow, as if they belonged to someone else entirely.

Maybe they did belong to someone else. Maybe they belonged to him.

As my stomach rumbled with hunger, I tied a small towel around my head, a habit I had picked up from spending countless mornings at Caleb's place. I stepped out of the bathroom and made my way to where Gabriele kept his suitcase.

I couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity as I opened his suitcase, my fingers brushing over his belongings. I rifled through the neatly organized clothes, my fingers grazing over the fabrics until I found what I was looking for—a t-shirt.

Without hesitation, I pulled the shirt over my head, the soft cotton enveloping me in its warmth. It was oversized, hanging loosely on my frame and reaching down to my thighs. I smiled to myself, relishing in the comforting feel of his shirt against my skin.

Going commando, as I often did, I didn't bother with anything else. I padded into the kitchenette of the hotel apartment, the soft fabric of Gabriele's t-shirt swaying gently around me with each step. He was already there, standing by the window with a cup of tea in hand, his gaze fixed on something outside.

He turned slightly as he sensed my approach, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he caught sight of me. "Good morning," he greeted, his voice soft and warm like the first rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds.

I couldn't help but admire the tattoos that adorned his back. They fascinated and intrigued me, yet I knew I would never fully understand their significance to him.

Stepping closer, I wrapped my arms around his waist, going on my toes as I rested my chin on his shoulder, hugging him from behind. The scent of his cologne filled my senses, comforting and familiar.