Page 97 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1
Her words wash over me. I’ve been so focused on the unusual nature of our relationship that I hadn’t considered there might be places where it’s accepted without question.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“For what?” She starts organizing the blood samples.
“For making it feel normal.”
Skye’s expression gentles. “Ally, after everything you’ve been through, finding connection—in whatever form it takes—is something to celebrate, not question.”
The conversation shifts back to birth control options, and I let my earlier concerns fade. Perhaps I’m being paranoid.
After months of captivity, it’s hard not to see threats everywhere, especially when surrounded by such genuine acceptance.
It’s also hard not to believe that the other shoe is about to drop. My anxiety attacks virtually disappeared since moving in with Hank and Gabe, but there’s still an edge. I feel it stronger now after leaving the safety of their condo. It is as if being outside makes me feel edgy and exposed.
When the exam finally concludes, I’m relieved to rejoin Hank and Gabe in the waiting area.
While the two of them head off for Hank’s exam, Gabe pulls me into his arms, his grip firm, grounding. The moment his chest presses to mine, everything else fades—the room, the noise, the world narrowing to just him.
“How’d it go?” Gabe asks, his voice low, eyessearching mine.
“Fine. Thorough,” I emphasize, watching their retreating forms, the corner of my mouth twitching.
But Gabe isn’t smiling. His gaze stays locked on me, intensity simmering beneath the surface.
“Ally.” His fingers lift to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, lingering on my cheek, rough knuckles gentle. “I need to know… if I crossed a line.”
I shake my head, breath catching at the raw edge in his voice—so different from the man who took control so utterly earlier. Now, he’s open, vulnerable, mine.
“No,” I whisper, eyes locked on his. “You didn’t cross anything. It was…” I pause, struggling for the right words, my pulse picking up. “It was unlike anything I’ve ever known. Intense. Overwhelming. But in the best way.”
Relief flashes across his face, but I don’t stop there. I step closer, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling the steady pound of his heart beneath my palm.
“Hank talked to me,” I say softly, fingers brushing Gabe’s chest, feeling the steady beat beneath my hand. “Told me why he didn’t join us…”
Gabe’s eyes flicker, something unreadable in their depths. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I know.”
“He said…” I glance away for a beat, collecting my thoughts, then meet his gaze again. “He said we’re free to explore whatever we want. Together—all three of us—or just the two of us, in whatever way feels right.”
Gabe doesn’t speak at first, just watches me, the silence between us heavy with something I can’t quite name.
“What do you want, Ally?” His voice is low, roughened with restraint. “No pressure. Just… truth.”
I swallow hard, heat rising in my throat, my words slow, uncertain—but honest. “I’m still figuring that out. But…” I pause, breath hitching. “I liked what happened. I liked how it made me feel. It opened up… things inside me. Sensations, emotions I’ve never experienced before.” My voice is barely a whisper now. “Fear. Awe. Helplessness… and power. All at once.”
Gabe’s jaw clenches, something primal flickering in his eyes before he reins it in. His hand lifts, cradling my face, thumb stroking beneath my cheekbone.
“If that’s the case,” he murmurs, voice thick, “I want to explore more, but we need to slow it down. No rushing, no pressure. I need you to know what something like that means to me. What it requires.”
I nod, breath catching at the gravity in his voice, in his touch.
“I’d like that,” I whisper. “I want to understand.”
Gabe’s breath leaves him in a slow, controlled exhale, but his eyes ignite, dark and molten, desire and something deeper coiling behind them.
“You say the word,” he murmurs, voice like velvet and steel. “And I’ll give you everything.”
His hand lifts, fingers threading gently through my hair, and when he leans in, his lips brush mine with exquisite care—soft, reverent, like I’m something precious. Not a possession. Not a fantasy.
