Chapter 7 Gavin
SEVEN
GAVIN
We walked back to where my truck was parked in front of the shop, Thai food containers in hand, the evening air thick with that low pressure that only ever meant one thing: rain was coming.
The sky had turned a bruised, smoky purple, the clouds sagging low like they were deciding whether to break or hold back.
We made it to the waterfront just as the sky was threatening to crack open.
As I shifted into park, a low roll of thunder chased itself across the horizon, vibrating faintly through the steering wheel under my hands.
“Of course,” I muttered, already reaching for my phone. I thumbed the screen, radar map blooming with swirling bands of red and yellow. “Storm’s rolling in. Looks like it’s gonna sit right on top of us.”
Rose glanced out the passenger window, her eyes tracing the darkening clouds as lightning spidered across the sky in the distance. “We could eat in the truck?”
I nodded and flipped the center console up to clear the space between us. “It’s not much, but it’s dry.”
Great word choice, asshole. After the last twenty-four hours she’s had…
She unbuckled her seatbelt with a soft click, then shifted in her seat until her back was resting against the door. She curled her knees up, folding them beneath her in a casual, cozy position that sent my already fraying control straight to hell.
Her sundress shifted as she moved—higher. Too high.
Jesus.
My eyes caught on the stretch of thigh she didn’t even try to cover, smooth skin glowing faintly under the stormlight.
I stared too long. I know I stared too long.
She cleared her throat, and I blinked. Hard. “Right. Probably should’ve left the console down, huh?”
She gave me a shy little smile and shook her head like it was fine. Like she didn’t just expose bare skin I’d kill to touch. Skin I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I opened the food bag and handed her the container of pad see ew. Our fingers brushed. It was nothing. Innocent. Barely a second.
But I felt it.
All the way down.
I cracked open my own container of pad Thai and tried to distract myself with the scent of peanut, lime, and sweet chili. It didn’t work.
The rain started a moment later, soft at first. Like the sky was holding its breath right along with me.
She took her first bite and let out a quiet, satisfied hum.
And my cock twitched hard behind my zipper.
Get a grip, Gavin.
For a few minutes, we just ate. Forks scraping softly, thunder rolling in low waves, and the patter of water drumming across the windshield like a heartbeat trying to stay calm.
“So,” I said, needing something—anything—to distract myself from the ache building in my jeans. “Are you seeing anyone?”
I fucked up.
Why the hell did I just ask that? I was in her space yesterday. I know damn well no one else is there. No trace of another man. No shoes by the door, no jackets that weren’t hers, nothing that wasn’t Rose.
But maybe they were going to his place. Maybe he was one of those guys who travels light and leaves no footprint. No, her parents would have mentioned it in passing if she was. They love to speak about their successful daughter whenever they can.
I shouldn’t have said anything.
She looked up, noodles half-twirled on her fork, her eyes curious. “What?”
“Are you dating anyone?” I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. “Anyone special in your life?”
Fantastic.
I’d lost complete control of my mouth. I think I’d rather take my chances with a steel golf club in the lightning storm brewing over the water than sit in this cab one more second after that question.
Her cheeks flushed pink so fast it was like someone had flipped a switch.
“Oh. Uh.” She glanced down, twisting her fork through her noodles again, but didn’t lift them. Her voice was soft. “I mean … no. Not really. That’s—kind of a personal question, huh?”
I shrugged and set my container down on the dash. “You don’t have to answer.”
She smiled faintly, looking at the floorboards. “Not dating. And there’s no one special.”
Something eased and twisted in me at the same time.
I nodded, then let myself do something that felt reckless even as I did it.
I reached over, resting my hand gently on her knee. Just a light touch. Testing the current between us.
Jesus.
She was soft. So fucking soft. Her skin was warm under my palm, silk stretched over heat. My thumb moved in slow, barely-there circles. I didn’t even think. I just needed to feel her. My hand itched to travel higher. To touch every inch between this knee and those lips.
My dick throbbed hard behind my jeans, stiff with want. The growing ache was now almost unbearable.
Calm down, Gavin. You do not need a boner in front of your best friend’s daughter.
Because of my best friend’s daughter.
But she didn’t pull away.
She didn’t flinch.
Her gaze was locked on my hand like it was something sacred, something dangerous. She licked her lips slowly, and my breath damn near left my body.
“Are … are you seeing anyone?” Then her eyes widened and she shook her head fast, like she wanted to rewind time. “Sorry, that’s—that’s weird. Right? That’s a weird thing to ask my parents’ friend.”
I didn’t answer her with words. Just reached over and picked up her container, placing it next to mine on the dash.
Then I turned back, cupping her cheek with my free hand.
My thumb brushed her skin, and damn if she didn’t lean into it.
Just barely. But enough to make me throw all caution to the wind.
“It’s not weird,” I said quietly. “And no. There’s no one else.”
Her voice came softer than before, like she was afraid the words might break something. “No one else?”
I looked at her mouth, then back to her eyes. Her pupils were wide, her breath coming a little faster. Her entire body still. Waiting.
“There’s no one else on my mind but you right now.”
She jerked back in surprise—and knocked her head against the window with a thunk.
“Jesus Christ, Rose. Be careful.”
I laughed, then winced as I reached out again, my fingers threading into her curls. I found the spot and rubbed slow, gentle circles against her scalp. She stilled. Then melted.
“You okay?”
She nodded, her voice a whisper. “Yeah. Just a bruised ego.”
I pressed a little deeper, massaging at the roots of her hair and working through the hidden knot. Her breath caught in her throat—and then it happened.
She moaned.
Soft. Barely audible. But there.
And it punched straight through the last very thin line of control I had left.
My will cracked.
My rules—shattered like wet glass.
“You can’t make those noises, Rose,” I said, my voice low and rough. “You can’t … not when we’re sitting this close.”
Her breath hitched.
And for a long, thick second, we just stared at each other—thunder still shaking the sky, rain pelting the windows, and something wild and dangerous hanging between us like a live wire.
Everything we weren’t supposed to say was now louder than the storm.