Her Strength, Her Bane

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“You are my best friend's boyfriend, Gabriel.”

“Ex–boyfriend,” he corrected.

“Whatever. It still changes everything,” she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling tiny underneath his scorching gaze.

“It changes nothing, Joslyn,” he took a step closer to her. “Nothing at all.”

She looked up into his eyes, sweet honey orbs colliding with the coral combinations of greens and blues. The colour harmony couldn't be more explosive.

Clearing her throat, she looked away from his captivating imprisonment of a gaze before straightening her posture to match one of confidence and determination, a total contrast to the tornado of feelings overwhelming her insides. His proximate presence was making her feel weak in the knees.

“No matter what, I refuse to betray Sigourney. It is an unspoken rule between best friends to not have anything to do with each other's exes. You're off limits, Gabriel.”

“Fuck such rules! Whether they're ‘unspoken’,” he gestured in an air-quote, “or in the fucking constitution, I don't give two fucks about that bullshit. And I am not off limits, Jos. Lapointe can not decide that. Only I can.”

He moved impossibly closer, backing her up against the frigid marble top of the kitchen counter. “I want you, Joslyn. And I always get what I want,” his voice turned husky.

“That doesn't apply to me.” She struggled to keep her voice within the range of normalcy, only to amount to naught.

“I always get what I want,” he reiterated firmly. At this rate, he was all up in her face, completely violating every goddamn rule regarding personal space.

“Why bother fighting it?” He lifted his hands to caress her face slowly, sweeping her short silver hair behind her ears so he could feel her smooth and silken skin tingle under the mercy of his mere touch.

“Your eyes, your lips, your entire body, begs for my single touch.” He ran his other hand up her naked arm, feeling the goosebumps surfacing on her skin.

“Admit it. You're just as attracted to me as I am to you. You want me as much as I want you. Maybe even more,” his warm breath fanned her face, making her eyelids droopy.

His baritone voice was just the right amount of deep and husky. His voice was alluring. Like the melodies of a siren flowing into her ears, like the devil resting on her shoulder, whispering sweet words into her soul, Gabriel tempted her. His entire body screamed temptation. And she was falling gradually.

“I don't,” she croaked before clearing her throat. Gabriel smirked, knowing too well the effect he had on her. “Did I ever tell you that?” she retorted, squirming internally as she was well aware that her arguments and denials were all pointless.

“Your lips,” he fondled her bottom lip with his calloused thumb, tracing the very line that defined her Cupid's bow shaped mouth, his gaze riveted to the mesmerizing sight, “need not speak the words your eyes vividly portray, love.”

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C O P Y R I G H T

This book is solely a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, incidents and/or occurrences are products of the author's imaginations, and have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person(s), living or dead, places or events is purely coincidental.

Her Strength Her Bane © 2023 by Laramie.

Published by O. A. F., writing under the pseudonym, Laramie.

All rights reserved. All parts of this book/publication are restricted to being reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form(s) or by any means — including but not limited to electronic, photocopying, mechanical, recording, or otherwise — without the prior written permission of the author/publisher. The only acceptable exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

|| Three Years Prior To The Present ||

Being an air stewardess was very thrilling and exhilarating for someone as adventurous as Joslyn Patel, but unfortunately, as exciting as it was, it also bagged a lot of stress, lots of legwork, i.e. standing and walking around, lots of sweet smiles (whether faux or genuine, but mostly, faux) and lastly, lots and lots of jet lags.

The belief that if you continued to do something perpetually, you would eventually grow accustomed to it, was a lie. A big one at that and Joslyn was a living witness. No one ever grows accustomed to jet lags.

So, imagine the magnitude of irritation she truly felt when her best friend, Sigourney Lapointe, had tenaciously dragged her jaded and jet-lagged body down to the clubhouse, two hours after she had landed from a 50hr+ flight to and from Kathmandu, Nepal.

Joslyn groaned loudly when the words, The Airliner, illuminated in neon lights at the entrance of the club blared in h