Page 22 of A Lot Like Adiós
“And what if I had?”
“I... I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you ever do anything about it before that day?” This was another thing she’d wondered about. She’d known him too well to think he was just an opportunist taking advantage of her teasing.
“We were friends.”
“Well, we’re not anymore,” she murmured, searching his expression as if it held more answers.
“You’re right. We’re not.” He sighed and some of the tension left his body. In a move that surprised her, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft kiss. “I never wanted to hurt you, Mich. I’m sorry that I did.”
Her pulse beat heavy and thick in her throat. The moment held a note of unreality. Gabe was here, his hard, hot body pressed to hers, his hands wrapped in her clothing, his cheek resting against the top of her head. The scent of his cologne was faint, the world around them quiet, save for the light chirping of birds outside.
I want you so fucking bad.
The words she’d pulled from him mingled with her own feelings, her own memories, her own needs.
“Gabe?” She waited for him to meet her gaze again. When he did, she licked her lips and said, “I think it’s time we finished what we started.”
He blinked, eyes going wide. “You mean...”
“We’re never going to move on until we get this out of the way.” And then she went up on tiptoe, leaning her body flush against his. Lowering her voice, she whispered in his ear, “Let’s fuck.”
Chapter 7
At some point during the argument, angry tension had turned to sexual tension. Gabe’s jet-lagged brain couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but it was impossible to mistake where they were now.
Let’s fuck.
Michelle’s words rang in his ears, heating his blood. His need for her overwhelmed his senses, and even though some part of him knew it was a bad idea, he preferred to see the logic in her suggestion.
He’d held back in the past, but once he’d known the taste of her, he couldn’t stay in touch, because he’d always be drawn back to her.
Like now, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but he slammed a mental door on it.
They wanted each other. They were alone together. And right now, she was pressing those stunning tits right into his body.
Let’s fuck.
Well, okay then.
Curling his hand around the back of her head, he slid his fingers into the warm mass of hair clipped up in a messy bun.She leaned into his touch and he moved closer, backing her against the wall, where a framed photo showed seven-year-old Michelle dressed in white, holding a tiny children’s bible and a pink rosary. She looked angelic, with her head bowed and her eyes downcast—except for the slight smirk twisting her mouth.
Gabe grimaced. “I’m going to hell. Why is this picture still here?”
“My mother believes it’s my greatest achievement. And no, you probably shouldn’t sex me against the wall under my First Communion glamour shot.”
Gabe looked into her eyes while his hands roamed down her curves to cup her sweet ass. “Is that what I’m doing, Mich? Sexing you?”
She sucked in a breath and he was gratified by the way her lashes fluttered when he squeezed. “I will be severely disappointed if you don’t.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the living room. “Sofa?”
Michelle gave a firm shake of her head. “My mother will kill us if we have sex on her new couch.”
“Upstairs, then.”
He grabbed her hand to pull her up the stairs, but she tugged him back and sent him a withering glare.
