Crossed Desires

MY BOYFRIEND ARRIVED

Gabriela

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings, and when I open the door, it's Miguel.

Hello, my love..." he says.

He presses his lips against mine and hugs me tightly. Happy, I cling to him.

"Hi, darling. Did you miss me?" I ask.

He touches my face with his knuckles and places his nose against mine.

"Always..." he whispers, and then he kisses me.

He lifts his head, turns toward my mother, and greets her.

"Good evening, Mrs. Rubiela," he says politely.

My mother looks at him and replies, though it's clear she doesn't like him.

"Good evening, young man," my mother answers.

And I don't know why she calls him "young man"; it's obvious she doesn't approve. She doesn't like my relationship with Miguel, and I can't blame her—she knows what he's like.

She believes my relationship with him isn't healthy. I know he's like this because he loves me, and yes, I also know she has her reasons. But he isn't bad; they just don't give him the chance.

"I'll leave you with my mom. I'll be right back, I'm going to brush my teeth and grab my bag."

But my mom stops me cold with her questions.

"Are you staying over?" she asks, frowning, because she doesn't like the idea of me spending the night with him.

"Yes, Mom..." I say, kissing her, trying to sweeten her up so she won't get upset.

I rush off to my room. Minutes later, I come out with my suitcase ready, kiss my mother goodbye, and get into my boyfriend's car.

We arrive at the apartment, and honestly, I wish I had stayed home. But who can handle Miguel and his jealousy? According to him, I was about to sneak off with my friends to some bar.



But he can go out with his friends... yet me? I can't. What can I do? He's just so jealous. I respect his personal space, but he can't respect mine. Honestly, his possessiveness irritates me. He expects me to always understand him.

But he doesn't understand me, and sometimes that frustrates me so much. I change the channel on the TV, trying to entertain myself while time passes by.

The truth is, my future with him feels so uncertain. My mother keeps telling me she doesn't like my relationship with Miguel—that he's too possessive, not the right man for me.

My friends can't stand him either. Not to mention my father, who's always trying to set me up with other men. And my in-laws? That's another story. They don't like me, even though they don't even know me. Could it get any more perfect?

I know this because once, while I was showering, Miguel stayed in the living room watching TV. When I came out, he was on the phone with his parents, speaking loudly. And that's when I heard him say he didn't want anything to do with me. It hurt, but I pretended it didn't matter. Of course it mattered.

I end up falling asleep, but in the middle of my deepest sleep I feel a tingling sensation between my thighs. I start moaning as a hand squeezes my left breast.

I feel someone caressing my most sensitive places, and I think I might die from the pleasure his touch gives me.

I open my eyes and see Miguel between my legs. He lifts himself up, slides my pajama dress off my body, leaving me completely naked. He positions me on all fours and takes me with a wild passion. And I love what he's doing.

'See? This is why I wanted you to stay...' he whispers in a husky voice.

He makes me laugh, and I tease him.

'So you could wake me up and not let me sleep...' I answer, laughing.

He chuckles, kissing my back as he pants, still inside me.

'No... so I could possess you like this...' he murmurs, biting my spine softly. And then, we climax together. 'I love you,' he says.

My breathing is heavy, and I smile before replying, 'I love you too.'

He looks at me, as if reproaching something unspoken, and I rest my head on his chest.

'Why do you always say it like that?' he asks.

What does he mean by that? Sometimes I really don't understand Miguel. He always finds a way to argue.

'Why should I say it any differently?' I ask.

Sometimes I wonder what exactly he wants from me. I give him all I can.

'It's just... you've never actually said the words "I love you" to me. And sometimes I think maybe you don't feel the same way I do,' he says.

Oh, Miguel... always looking for something to fight about. Always finding a way to twist things. If he says white and I say white, then he claims I'm just agreeing with him. If I say black, then it's because I'm trying to contradict him. Sometimes I wonder how we've managed to last this long.

'Miguel, you know I'm not very good with words. But you also know I feel the same way about you. Otherwise, I would have ended this relationship a long time ago, because there are too many things against us—and you know it.'

He looks at me, and I meet his gaze without backing down.

'But it's not my fault...' he says.

'I know it's not. But even so, there's a lot against us.'

'And it's my fault then?' I reply, looking at him.

He lowers his gaze, because he knows I'm right.

'I didn't say that. Don't burden yourself with it. I swear I'll fix everything,' he tells me.

He kisses my lips, and we fall asleep in each other's arms.

Dear readers, don't forget to vote and leave your comments—they motivate me to keep writing for you with love. This is Francia, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Gaby.

Don't miss the next chapters—they're going to be on fire!