What did she want?
Rick. I want Rick.
Massaging her temples, Rachael closed her eyes and relived that stolen afternoon with Rick for the millionth time. Was it even real? Why couldn’t she let it go? She had to be romanticizing her time with him. She desperately needed to move on.
Carlie entered the office, leaning against the door frame. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She answered Carlie’s inquiry without opening her eyes, holding onto the fading image of Rick.
“I passed Mom in the hallway. What was she up to this early in the morning?”
Resigned, Rachael met her sister’s eyes and shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea. Same old cryptic mom stuff.” They were used to their mother’s different ways. It was their normal.
“My Keurig is on the fritz. Come get coffee with me.”
“As if I’d stand between you and your caffeine,” Rachael teased, grabbing her bag. Carlie had very few vices. Caffeine was the one she allowed free reign in her life.
Trudging along in the midsummer morning, Rachael swiped at the heavy, soupy air surrounding them. “Ugh, this humidity is insane,” she whined. “And you still want hot coffee?”
“Of course. It’s the morning nectar of the gods.”
They swam down the humid sidewalk, her sister’s tall, lean shadow and Rachael’s petite form stretching ahead of them. The Starbucks was crowded and hot, so she shooed Carlie in alone.
“Sure you don’t want anything?” Carlie asked.
“No, I’m good. I’m going to wait out here.”
Rachael sat on a low brick retaining wall in the shade, watching the people come and go on this hellishly hot Friday morning.
“Rachael?”
It was the voice she longed to hear. She closed her eyes and shook her head, unsure and unprepared.
“Rachael?” he asked again, closer.
Rachael looked up. His brown eyes were full of hesitation. He had new lines under them that she didn’t recall when they were last together. “Rick?”
He smiled uncertainly. “How are you?”
“I . . . I’m okay, I guess. You?”
His gaze swept the area, looking anywhere but at her as he answered. “I’ve been better, but . . . you know how it goes.”
She looked down and fidgeted, wishing she could find something to say. But nothing came to mind.
“What are you doing here?” Rick asked.
“Waiting for Carlie,” she gestured toward the hopping coffee shop.
“Oh.”
Time stood still in their little bubble; the world moved around them. She longed to touch him, smell him, just be with him. Was this the chance she had been waiting for? Not one to squander an opportunity, she took a deep breath and got to her feet, ready to close some of the distance between them. “I am so glad to see you. I want to tell you—”
“No, Rachael. Stop.” He looked away.
She felt like she’d been slapped. Just spit it out, Car! “Gabe and I are just friends. I miss you.”
He swallowed and turned. “It was good to see you.”
“You too . . .” she trailed off as he walked away, the bottom falling out of her world.
So that’s it then.
It’s over. Really over.
She tried to keep her shit together, to not show how fragmented she felt inside. Eyes burning and stomach churning, she struggled to breathe, the humid air oppressive and imprisoning her in the moment. How could this be happening? It wasn’t supposed to go that way. Clutching her stomach, she staggered back to the brick wall, sitting down to stop the world from smothering her.
She sat until she could no longer take it, texting Carlie, Too hot. Heading back to the office.
“He didn’t even give me a chance to explain,” she said aloud, angry with herself for being so upset, angry with him for giving up, and angry at the world that continued to stream around her.
Dashing a bitter tear from her cheek, she sent out another text. She hoped he wasn’t bogged down in meetings. Need to talk. Can you meet me?
At the office or your place? Gabe replied immediately.
Home.
Meet you there in 20 minutes.
16
Rachael sat on her parents’ sofa, a full glass of wine untouched on the table in front of her. She heard the front door open and close, but her gaze remained fixed on the flat surface of the wine.
“What’s going on?” Gabe asked, jogging into the house, concern written all over his face.
“It’s time,” she muttered, staring at the glass. “I’m convincing myself to move on.”
He sat down next to her, reaching for the wine glass. Gabe sniffed then took a drink, cringing. “Christ, Rach. What is this? What are you drinking?”
“I don’t know. It’s the only bottle I could find in the pantry. Cooking wine?”
“I don’t think this would be called wine in any country. Come on, let’s get you a real drink.”
Pulled to her feet, she followed along numbly, grabbing her bag and phone on the way to his car.
“Where to?” Rachael asked.
“My place, if that’s okay with you?”
She nodded and stared out the window, seeing Rick’s face over and over. Could she have said something different? Made him listen?
“What happened?” Gabe asked.
“I saw him. And it was awkward. Awful. Like stepping into a cold, dark shadow.”
Gabe swore under his breath as he zipped along the side streets, ending up in front of his downtown condo. She’d heard rumors that he owned the building, but it didn’t really matter to her. He tossed the keys to a valet and escorted her inside. They took the elevator up to his penthouse, and he pointed her to the living room as he beelined to the kitchen. Rachael heard him working in there, opening and closing cabinets, the refrigerator.
“Music?” he called.
“Sure.”
Soothing, mellow tunes filled the air, a relaxing musical number that was heavy with strings and piano. She’d been to Gabe’s place before, briefly, but this was the first time she’d really studied it. The black leather sofa set and geometric area rug were masculine but tasteful. The walls were decorated with framed artwork in shades of blue and gray, contemporary pieces that made her think of waves crashing over a seascape. A wall full of entertainment options opened before her: a huge curved television screen, an impressive audio system, and not a single wire visible. Also missing were photographs, trivial knick-knacks, or anything else that could reveal the real Gabe.
“Of course,” she murmured, then kicked off her shoes and leaned back into the leather sofa, closing her eyes. She felt him settle on the sofa beside her. He remained silent. After a while, Rachael turned to see him watching her attentively.
He handed her a glass of wine, and she sipped, humming at the accompanying fruit and spice explosion in her mouth. “This is good,” she noted.
He nodded.
“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling a tear run down her cheek.
He leaned forward, wiping it gently from her face. “Please don’t cry, love. He isn’t worth your tears.”
She smiled at his words, his concern. “Gabe, I’m sorry. This is so unfair to you.”
“There is nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”
“Why does everything have to be so complicated? So confusing?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.” He trailed a finger down her cheek, drying the path of a runaway tear.
He was so close. So warm. So supportive.
Rachael knew what he wanted. Part of her wanted that too.
She took a shuddering breath. Could she do this?
Gabe leaned closer, watching her eyes. His own pale crystal-blue eyes were pulling her in, and she wanted to swim in the coolness, lose herself. He moved closer still, his fingers cupping her chin, tilting her face up toward his.
“Rachael, I . . . you know I want you.”
She knew it was w
rong. She didn’t want what he wanted. Rachael wasn’t sure she ever would. Yet, there they sat together, and the temptation was inescapable.
“I want to be close to someone, to feel something real.” She studied his face, the hope and tension warring. They’d been there before. As good as it had been during that illicit interlude, she knew it would be better now. But as a friend, she had to be honest. “You know I can’t commit to anything beyond right now, this moment. I can’t do a relationship, Gabe.”
He closed his eyes, and she forced herself to remain quiet, not console him. It would be his choice.
When his gaze returned to her, they were ablaze with icy fire. “If we do this, I don’t know that I can go back. I want you, all of you.”
Another tear escaped and he leaned forward, kissing it away.
Shuddering, she turned away from him. “I can’t, Gabe. I can’t do this to you. You deserve more. I can’t offer you something that isn’t there.” Her tears continued to trickle and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. “I need my friend. I need this, just for you to hold me. Help me forget things for a little while.”
He chuckled, his chest rumbling against her. “It figures,” he murmured aloud. “The one woman I want, and she just wants me for my body.”
“The irony,” she laughed sadly against him.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
She leaned back and wiped her eyes. “We drink excessively and you tell me about San Antonio and Boston.”
17
Three bottles later, she was beyond the point of giving a damn. She struggled to recall why this couldn’t happen. Would it be that bad?
“Why isn’t it you that I’m this upshet about?” Rachael pouted, poking him in the chest. “I remember. You were soooo good. We were good. Mmmm . . .”
“Christ, Rach.” Gabe reached to take her glass away. “I think that’s enough for you.”
“I’m sherioush,” she paused and giggled. “Serious.”
He shrugged, a half-smile on his lips. “I wish I knew, love.”
“Life is so messed up.”
She sprawled across the sofa, stretching her legs across his lap. “Comfortable?” he teased, rubbing a hand up and down her shin.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Though you wouldn’t happen to have some sweat pants I could borrow? This suit is killing me.”
Gabe lifted her legs and dropped them behind him, sauntering to his bedroom.
“You know these are going to be about two feet too long on you, right?” he said, tossing them to her.
“Turn around,” she ordered, darting around to the backside of the sofa to change into his pants.
He chuckled and turned away. “You could have just gone to the washroom or my room.”
Rachael tossed her slacks and jacket on the side chair and shuffled back around, wearing his dark-blue sweats and her fitted black camisole. “I clash.”
“You do. But you’re cute enough to get away with it.”
She crawled across the couch and leaned against him, her feet tucked under the square pillow at the end of the sofa. “Gabe?”
“Yes?”
“I still want to kiss you. Can I do that and us still just be friends?”
He was quiet for so long that she looked back up at him. “Gabe?”
His long hair formed a dark curtain between them. Rachael reached up to pull it back, a goofy grin lighting her lips. “Hellloooo?” His face was unreadable, his eyes flat on the surface. What was going on in there?
She sat up and put some room between them. “Gabe?”
“I should take you home, damn it,” he muttered, brushing his hair back away from his face.
“You don’t want me to kiss you. I understand. I do. It’s awful of me. I’m sorry I asked.” She started to stand and he reached out, closing his long fingers around her wrist.
Gabe flexed his arm and she flew backward, falling into his lap. Rachael stared up at him and stopped breathing. Warring anger and desire filled his beautiful face. “Of course I want you to kiss me, Rachael. I’ve never wanted something so fucking bad in my life. I want that and a hell of a lot more.”
She scrubbed a hand across her face. “I’m so sorry, I know. I remember what you said earlier. How are you so much better at all of this than me? I’m such a mess, and this is so unfair to you. Even now, when I’m essentially throwing myself at you, you are . . .” She shrugged helplessly and tugged her wrist free of his hold. “. . . and I shouldn’t have—”
He cut her off with his mouth, crushing her, suffocating her. The force stunned her and she reflexively pushed him away. Gabe cursed and backed up, torment ravaging his beautiful features. She held her fingers to her mouth, shocked. What would this do to them? She hesitantly reached up to touch his lips. His eyes dropped closed and his breath stuttered as her fingers traced his lips.
He turned his head, a dark angel leaning into her touch, placing kisses on her fingers. “You are right where you belong. Maybe we just try this and see what happens,” Gabe murmured, opening his eyes and locking them onto hers. He inched closer, waiting for her to stop him.
A contented sigh escaped her as he pressed his lips to hers, a much gentler attack of the senses. He slid a hand behind her to cradle her head, holding her body tightly against his chest. “Rachael, do you want me?”
Right now? Yes.
She nodded, and another tear slipped down her cheek.
He followed the trail of the tear and kissed it away before reclaiming her mouth. Closing her eyes, she curved her hand around his jaw as he ravaged her mouth. She felt like she was floating and realized he was quite literally carrying her away. She moaned, twining her arms around his neck.
He set her gently on his bed and followed, raised on his elbows, his body tensed. Gabe placed a hand behind her head and smiled, leaning closer. “I’ve dreamed of this,” he said in a low voice. “Of you here with me in my bed, love. My beautiful golden girl.”
“Gabe, this doesn’t change anything. I still—”
“Shh . . .” he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I promise we will talk later,” he assured her, nodding into her eyes.
Rachael wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him to within a breath of her lips. “So, what did we do in your dream?”
“We started with this,” he said, licking the corners of her lips. Rachael giggled, then slipped her tongue out to meet his. “And some of this,” he continued, before plunging into her mouth, tangling with her tongue. He leaned to one side to free his arm. His burning hand slid her hair back from her face before moving over her shoulder and trailing a searing path down her side. She wriggled as he tickled her. He tilted his head up and gave one last teasing kiss. Like a starving man, his gaze drifted down her body, his lips closing over her breast through the black shirt. “And this,” he mumbled against her.
“Oh!” she gasped as his mouth dampened and heated the fabric over her, his hands roving.
His fingers worked to untie the laces at the front of her borrowed sweatpants and he jerked them roughly. He gave a frustrated grunt and sat back. “What the hell . . . ?”
Rachael giggled at his befuddlement. “They were too big, I had to tie a knot.”
Instead of untying them, she wiggled her hips and let them slide down. She deftly reached down and kicked off the pants, leaving her lacy black underwear and now-moist fitted tank. With a smile befitting a fallen angel, his mouth greedily returned to her, his tongue working and licking her tight nipples through the thin material. A tingling behind her breasts connected with the heat growing in her middle, and she squirmed, wanting more. Rachael tangled her hands into his long hair and tugged at his head, trying to bring him back to her.
“Gabe,” she whispered.
He worked his way up, biting and sucking, the deep suction marking her chest and doing funny things to her insides. He reclaimed her mouth and roved a hand lower, tracing the lines of the lacy black underwear. She reached for
his hand, guiding it under the waistband, moving his expert fingers where she needed him. He touched her and groaned into her mouth when his fingers found her ready for him. She arched closer, wanting his touch, needing to feel him.
“Rach,” he moaned, tearing his mouth away, watching her face as he toyed with her.
She squirmed beneath him. “I want you.”
He smiled broadly, his dimple catching the light. “Say it again.”
“I want you.”
“Say you need me.”
“I need you.”
“Say my name.”
Rachael stared at him, her fingers tracing the angles of his jaw. “I want you, Gabe. I need you.”
“Good girl,” he growled. He grabbed her panties and ripped, tearing the fabric away. He grunted and lowered his weight between her legs, sliding his hand against her sensitive flesh, his thumb circling and finding her clit. She moaned and her head fell back. He dropped his head to follow, licking and biting her neck, chasing after her lips.
His thumb kept circling, and his index and middle fingers slipped between her outer folds and dipped into the warm, wet center.
“Gabe,” she murmured, his thick fingers pushing in and out, his thumb working in circles as he pressed. “I love your hands,” she panted, gripping his broad shoulders and holding on as his fingers continued to bring her closer to the edge, plunging deeper and faster, his thumb steadily moving, all building together. Soon she was thrashing her head back and forth, shuddering, trying to hold on.
“Come for me, love,” he demanded.
And she did. She gasped and felt a violent trembling rush through her, shaking her core, catching them both off guard. “Holy crap,” Rachael breathed, her body still clenching his fingers, refusing to let go.
Gabe smiled at her tenderly as the tremors subsided, and leaned down to kiss her. He slid his hand up her stomach, dragging the fabric with it. He continued up and tossed the black material over her head, throwing it to the floor.
Animal Attraction Page 11
