Page 43 of The Photograph

When she’s settled, I sit at my sketch table and listen to the soothing babble of Sam’s voice telling me about her life.

A sharp rap on the door breaks into our little world, and I whip my eyes up. My heartbeat speeds up while my belly clenches. It’s Gabe.

I leap to open the door and gasp when he grips the back of my neck to plant a very wet,

very explicit kiss on my mouth.Oh… God.

Out of breath, and with my whole-body tingling, I pull back from the torrid kiss and smile.

“Hi.”

His hair is mussed up as if he’s been raking his fingers through it several times, and the sleepy sun casts an amber glow behind him making him look like a dark angel. My impossibly sexy lover’s hands descend to my hip to plaster me tight against him and bends his head down.

Stepping back, I take his hand to pull him past the threshold and chuckle at his expression when he sees Sam. “Gabe, this is Samantha.”

When she hears her name, Sam gets to her feet, crabs walk to me while she inspects Gabe and curls her arms around my thigh. I scoop her up and straddle her on my cocked hip.

“Sammy, this is Gabe. Do you want to say hello?”

Samantha mumbles a shy hello in my neck as Gabe watches me with the same impenetrable expression he had yesterday.I’m not sure what this is, but I don’t like it.

I hold Sammy a little closer and peck her cheek before I grin at Gabe. “Let’s go to the house. It’s nearly dinner time.”

We reach the living room where I set Sam at her activity table next to the couch and place her once-white teddy bear on the small chair next to hers.

“Lalin, I want to watch Dora.”

I hand the remote to my little princess. “You do it.”

After she does, I plant a soft kiss on her hair and pull Gabe to the kitchen where he stands a step away from the doorjamb with his hands in his pockets. In black jeans and t-shirt, he’s the personification of sex on legs, but his expression is… I don’t know.

I touch his cheek. “Gabe, what’s wrong?”

In response, he pulls me up tight against him and buries his face in my neck. I curl my arms around him and my heart stumbles. There’s so much tension in his body.

He straightens up. “I shouldn’t be here.”

When he steps back, I grip his arm. “Gabe?” He bores his eyes into mine, and I frown while my heart races. “Talk to me.”

His muscles bunch under my palm, so I curl my fingers on the waistband of his jeans and roll on my toes.

I kiss his clenched jaw, graze my lips on his stubbly chin, and rub my nose against his before nipping at his bottom lip. When his big hands plaster my hips against his, I loop my arms around his neck and touch the tip of my tongue to his upper lip. “Gabe.”

Gabe takes my mouth in a deep, wet, breath-stealing kiss before he touches his forehead to mine. His lips twitch. No dimple, but I’ll take it.

“What’s for dinner?”

Grinning, I peck his lips. “Mac and cheese. What else?”

He settles on the stool, and while I prepare dinner, I tell him about my day, ask about his until we fall into a somehow easy conversation, and his shoulders relax as he sets his elbows on the cream marble.

After stirring, I slide the pasta in the oven when Gabe asks, “Who’s the little girl?”

I grin as I face him. “Sam’s Emma’s daughter and Cara’s and my goddaughter.”

“Lalin!”

In seconds, Gabe and I are in the living room. I crouch next to Sam who’s holding her teddy bear against her. “What’s up, munchkin?”

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