Chapter 10 #2
Now, she had a stolen weekend to treasure before the rest of her life came calling.
“Tell me a secret no one else knows,” Gabi murmured, her lips pressed to the rim of her wine glass.
She was as beautiful as Dallas had ever seen her.
Lying on the rug before the fireplace in ratty jeans and a cream sweater that kept slipping off one shoulder, tawny hair loose, the strands catching firelight and turning the ends amber.
Her eyes had gone that rich hazel-brown they got when she was amused, maybe a little dangerous.
One leg was tucked beneath her, the other stretched toward the hearth, toes painted pale pink.
He stared at her foot, imagined lifting it to his lips. Kissing her instep, her ankle, each pink toe until she stopped asking for secrets.
“Don’t try and duck out, Hotshot.”
Sighing softly, he dragged his gaze back to his wine, trying hard to be civilized—setting a relaxed rhythm for this damned dating thing.
He’d done a good job of keeping his hands to himself save for the occasional touch and that one bruising kiss when she’d backed him against the kitchen counter, her rough groan smothered against his neck when he made himself let her go.
Though eat, drink, talk, fuck kept running through his mind.
Because they were on step three of her list. And, surprise, talk was the one making him fidgety.
Like he’d said, new territory.
He was on the floor, too, his back against the sofa, Gabi close enough to test every intention he had left.
Stretching his leg out to circle his weak ankle, he thought about it before saying, “I’m not sure it’s a secret, but when I was a kid, before I knew real ones existed, I used to make up brothers.
I gave them names and everything. I think that’s why, when it didn’t turn out the way I’d planned, at least with Justin, I escaped Promise the first chance I got.
The week after I graduated. If I told Justin that much, I mean I’ve told him a little, but not that.
I can’t. The morose smiles he gives me when he thinks I’m not looking are punishment enough. ”
Gabi rested her glass on her belly, and his gaze traveled to her hips, to the swell of her breasts before finding her eyes on him, her smile calculating.
He didn’t think they were going to talk for long.
“We were friends back then, Justin and I. In the same class. And…I remember, he wanted to make up for it.” She turned on her side, facing him, and propped her cheek on her closed fist. “Teenage boys have trouble communicating, trouble saying they’re sorry.
I kinda dread when Sam gets there, because he tells me everything now. ”
Dallas rolled his glass between his hands, a muted laugh catching in his throat. “I shot down every attempt he made in my sullen adolescent way. Man, did I know how to play that role. Oscar-worthy, by far. I was insufferable.”
“And now?”
He slid lower, onto his back, stretching one foot out to trace the arch of hers.
The silky hitch in her breath rolled through him, sending pulses into each dark corner.
“Forgiven. I just want my family, no rules in place this time. Nothing they have to prove. I was so insecure and—” He shrugged, glancing at the small brass carriage clock on the mantel.
Five minutes of this background bullshit, then he was seducing her.
“I’m ready to forgive, too. Theo, that is.
I wanted mad love and instead, I picked someone emotionally unavailable, like my dad.
” She took a sip of wine and stared toward the fire, chewing on her lip.
“Of course, I’m stuck having a relationship with my ex because of Sam, which makes it hard.
Changing my life to suit him, realizing I gave him precious time I can’t get back, makes it hard.
But he also gave me the best thing in my life, so that evens things out, right? ”
Dallas leaned his jaw on his shoulder, wondering what he was going to do with the emotions swirling in his belly, liking her this much. It was fucking frightening. “Sam evens everything out, Sparkle. He’s an amazing kid, you’re an amazing mom. You win, if there’s such a thing. Hands down.”
She laughed—this wicked sound—and returned his caress, tracing the arch of his foot with her pink-tipped toe. “Do you remember that kiss?”
He rolled to his side, mirroring her pose. Partly because his cock had finally decided to make itself known, trapped hard against denim. “The bleachers.”
She reached, tracing her finger over his hand and up his forearm. He tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress the shiver. At least he managed not to groan. How did she always seem to smell like some edible creation he couldn’t wait to devour? “Why did you do it?”
Dallas snorted. Truly, what a Gabi question. What a female question. “Why did I kiss the hottest girl in high school, someone I had an obvious crush on? Because I wanted to. Desperate, aching desire.”
She continued her torment, scooting closer to brush her thumb along his jaw.
He leaned into the touch, unable not to.
He’d noticed that she liked stubble more than a clean shave—and he’d planned accordingly.
She also liked his glasses, but he’d needed contacts for the drive up.
Tomorrow, he’d switch that up. “It was the cheerleading thing, wasn’t it?
That was it for most guys. Skirts as scant as a teenage boy’s common sense. Rah-rah.”
He shook his head and set his glass aside, out of the way. “Truthfully, I hated that. Pep rallies and football games weren’t exactly my thing. Too many people pretending they knew where they belonged. All that borrowed confidence was unbearable.”
“Borrowed confidence,” she whispered and rolled to her back, laughing. “You are such a writer.”
Dallas followed her down, bracing himself over her to take the glass from her hand.
“You were the only person I knew who seemed sad, like me, but you could hide it. I guess I wondered how you managed to pull it off, the charade. Your smile, your joy, just blew me away. It was like sunlight, I don’t know how to explain it.
And it’s still there.” His mind starting to choose arousal over reason, he nudged her sweater up and drew a slow circle on the velvety-smooth skin above her hip.
“Then, of course, I adored your breasts. Your legs. Your sweet ass. I mean, I was a horny fifteen-year-old guy.”
She caught the back of his head, drawing his lips to hers.
The kiss went hot as he rolled over her, his forearms taking his weight while the rest of him found the soft cradle of her body.
She made a sound that sank straight through him, fingers sliding into his hair, her hips lifting in welcome before he’d asked for anything from her.
He loved that she took what she wanted with him, no hesitation, no doubt.
He didn’t want uncertainty between them.
Any secrets, any lies.
“Gab,” he said against her lips, his breath rough against her cheek. “I have to do it. Cairo. I have to try.” He knew he was saying this more for himself than for her. Reminding himself, because he could feel it happening—new, terrifying, impossible to stop.
He was falling hard.
For Gabi. God, for Gabi.
But also for his family. For the Dispatch. For Promise, where he finally felt a sense of belonging.
“Shh,” she whispered, her eyes molten gold in the firelight. “Come here, Hotshot.”
So he went.