by Zoe York
“Learn more about each other?” Her eyes lit up at the suggestion and his feeling of being off-balance faded. “I’d like that.”
“Yeah.” They shared a smile, and when she leaned in, he met her halfway, kissing her softly. “Start with an easy one. What do you like on your pizza?”
“Practical, too.” She laughed. “Mushrooms. Pepperoni. No green peppers. Could go either way on olives or onions.”
“Love onions. Meh on olives. Can we toss spicy sausage and tomatoes on there, too?”
Once they agreed on their order, he called it in, then he circled her wrist with his fingers. “I want you closer, is that okay?”
She nodded, and he finally tugged her into the crook of his arm. They had a lot of questions to get through before their dinner arrived. “favorite movie?”
— SEVEN —
Gaby walked the five blocks to Orange Ave, hoping the fresh air would calm her nerves. This was her third date with Trick and the first that might end up being an entire day.
If he wanted to spend the entire day with her—which she was pretty sure he did.
After their pizza and a movie on Tuesday night, she’d reluctantly said good night, promising to come back the next night. But Trick ended up spending Wednesday night at the base for reasons he wouldn’t elaborate on—and she’d never push. Then she’d taught her third last class on Thursday, and the pre-exam questions had gone on forever afterward. So last night had been date number two.
Maybe it was because it had been a Friday night, or her expectations had been unfairly set by the magic of their first date, but something had been missing. A wow factor, and it wasn’t one-sided—Trick could never disappoint her. But she worried that their second date had been…just nice. Which was totally unfair, because Trick had seemed tired during dinner, so she’d suggested they cut it short. And when he drove her home, she’d insisted on saying goodnight in his SUV.
She wasn’t ready for him to walk her up to her door or come inside. He’d already been in her apartment once, and that niggled, despite the fact that she knew it shouldn’t.
But even before that, dinner had been quiet and their conversation limited. Trick talked about work in the vaguest of terms, and she’d thought to herself that it was kind of crazy he didn’t get the week off to recuperate, but something told her that was his choice.
It would take time before they could talk more freely. And any expectations were too many in a week when he was recovering from a physical injury and she was swamped with the end of term.
Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she shook off the strange feeling from the night before.
It was a gorgeous spring day, and she was meeting a boy who liked her at her favorite place. A book store.
Bay Books had been Trick’s suggestion, and she’d leapt at it. They’d go from there to brunch. She was wearing a dress and pretty underwear, just in case.
This was going to be a good date. She just knew it.
She found him in the military history section. He was wearing cargo pants, snug through his narrow hips and looser through the legs, and a fitted black t-shirt that stretched around his biceps and over his broad shoulders. He was leaning forward, his cast resting on a shelf above his head as he read a hardcover book. She paused at the foot of the aisle, taking a minute to absorb how the sight of him made her heart skip a beat. A few beats, actually.
He smiled slightly as she approached, even though he hadn’t looked her way. “Hey, pretty girl.”
“How did you know it was me?”
He tipped his face to meet her gaze, his smile spreading slow as molasses across his face. “Keen observational skills. Well-honed peripheral vision.” He set the book aside and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her close so his next words were for her ears only. “And you wear the sexiest perfume.”
He brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “Did you want to look around a bit?”
“Yeah. You want to stay here?”
With his casted arm, he not-so-clumsily picked up the book he’d been looking at. “I’m good. I’ll bring this. You show me what you like to read.”
“You sure?”
He squeezed the back of her neck. “Come here.” This kiss was longer, harder, and bordered on inappropriate for a book store. She loved it. “Never think that I’d rather do my thing than your thing. ’Kay? If I want to do something, I’ll tell you. And I’ll find a way to make it good for both of us.”
Jeez. Gaby shivered, and he laughed quietly, tipping his forehead against hers.
“I didn’t mean for that to sound dirty.”
“It did, though.” The honest reaction slipped from her without a second thought. He’d had that kind of effect on her earlier in the week, and it had mostly been missing the night before. She grinned up at him. “And I liked it.”
He wrapped his left arm around her waist and she pointed toward a stack of thriller novels.
Brunch was more of the same, little touches that felt like sparks on tinder. Looks that made her all hot and bothered, and she was pretty sure Trick was just being Trick.
When he leaned back and stretched his ridiculously long arm across the back of the chair to the left of him, and his leg stole under the table and rubbed against hers, rough cotton on bare skin, she gave him a warm glare.
“What?” he asked with a smirk.
“I think you know what.” She licked her lips. “What do you want to do next?”
He didn’t answer, just looked at her with sex in his eyes. If she was anyone else, she knew his answer would be something straight to the point. You, baby. But she’d thrown up enough roadblocks that he might not say that.
Did she want him to? You, baby. She imagined his eyelids dropping, the words rolling off his tongue. His mouth following that bold statement with a searing kiss and his hands…everywhere.
She was totally in over her head.
His smirk faded into a softer, more genuine smile. “How about we head back to your place?”
Not quite as explicit as she’d expected, but there it was…the next step. And she was totally going to bungle it up.
So much for her perfect date. Maybe she was the problem.
Maybe? There’s no maybe about it.
With a sigh, he reached across the table and laced his fingers through hers. “Okay, the beach? Want to drive into the foothills?”
“Sure. Let’s go for a drive, maybe.”
Trick paid the bill, letting Gaby protest for a minute that they should split it before silencing her with a kiss. In the moment when his lips were on hers, his hand in the small of her back, almost palming her ass, it all felt right.
She needed to find a way to hang on to that feeling between embraces, because as they drove off the island and through the city, his hand constantly on her knee or around her fingers, a sweet, comfortable contentment settled in her chest. And another feeling—less sweet, more dirty, and a whole lot hotter—started to burn lower in her belly.
They parked at a canyon preserve that allowed for public hiking, and, hands entwined, they climbed the easy path to the first lookout. They were alone, as far as Gaby could tell, and Trick must have come to the same conclusion. No sooner had he wrapped his arms around her waist as they looked at the vista spread below them than he was nuzzling her neck, obviously more interested in something other than scenery.
That made two of them. His left hand was wrapped around her rib cage, his thumb so close to the bottom of her breast she thought she go crazy if he didn’t shift it—up, preferably, but if not up, then down, because she couldn’t think like this. Except down would be toward the hem of her dress, inching up with each nuzzle as the light fabric twisted between them. And underneath, she just had on the skimpy lace she’d worn for him—worn on purpose, and she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone, ever.
But the warm fuzzies that filled her when they kissed and held hands faded to a black-and-white movie of Trick stroking his hands over Lila’s body.
His hands cupping Lila’s breasts as he moved closer to cupping Gaby’s. She wanted him, but the closer they got to being intimate, the bigger that icky feeling got.
She stiffened in his arms and he softened his grip.
“Sorry,” he whispered, shifting his hips away from her bottom. She’d felt his erection, just for a second, and as he slipped back into the safe zone she’d established, hot, prickly frustration took over.
He had nothing to apologize for. This was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous, but she also couldn’t help how she felt.
“It’s not…” She turned in his arms. “I like you so much, Trick. You’re…amazing. But—”
“But nothing.” He cut her off, his brows pulling tight. “Don’t say it. I’m just going to argue, and that’s no way to spend a date.”
“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“I can guess.” He ran his fingertips over her cheekbone, then down her jaw, ending at her chin, where he held her face firmly in place as he brought his own close enough she could see the flecks in his eyes. “It’s okay if you need more time.”
“Stop saying the right things. That just makes this that much harder.”
“This?” His voice thickened, the word coming out bigger than it should, but he didn’t yell it. If anything, he was the opposite of angry. He sounded…hurt. But his eyes blazed. “Would it be so easy for you to shove me away?”
“I said it’s hard,” she whispered, hating how awful she felt. This felt wrong, on all levels, but she couldn’t relax, either.
“Do you want me to take you home?”
“No.” She should say more. Apologize and make it better, but she didn’t know how.
They stared at each other for a minute, then he ducked his head and kissed her lightly. Chastely, and it felt all kinds of wrong.
“Come on, there’s another lookout a little further on that’s pretty cool.” He slid his hand to the middle of her back and steered them back onto the path.
The rest of the date was more of the same—PG-13 touches and warm smiles, but no more dangerously heated gazes, and his hands stayed safely away from all erogenous zones.
As they headed back to the city, Trick glanced at her a few times, his gaze hooded and unreadable. His hand found hers and he covered her fingers with his, a heavy, welcome pressure.
When he finally cleared his throat, the question that broke the silence surprised her. “How about Italian for dinner?”
“You want to go out for dinner?” It was a stupid question. He’d just asked her to do exactly that. But she’d run hot and cold, and even though he said he understood, she didn’t really get how he could.
“No,” he said with a quiet intensity that rippled through her. “I want to get takeout and eat naked in bed with you. But yeah, if that’s not on the table, I want to take you out to a restaurant. Then maybe go to the beach after and make out.”
“But what I said earlier…”
“Would time make a difference?” He said it so gently, so full of understanding that her eyes filled with tears, and she twisted to stare out the passenger-side window. “The thing is, pretty girl, I don’t need time. You’re the only person I see, the only person I want to hold.”
Damned if that didn’t just make her cry harder. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. But don’t shut us down before we have a chance to see what this is between us.”
She swiped her hand under her eyes furiously.
“Do you want to go home before dinner?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head.
“Can I take you back to my place? We can hang out and watch some TV.”
“Sure.”
It just took a few more minutes to get to his apartment complex. After parking, he came around to her side of the car, and as she stepped down to the ground, he said something under his breath and pulled her—gently—against his body.
It started as a hug, but it didn’t take long for Trick to slide his hands into her hair and tip her face back so he could kiss her.
“Sorry,” he whispered against her lips, and she shook her head. God, he had nothing to be sorry for. She’d ruined everything. He pressed his mouth hard to hers, making her whimper and he jerked away, but she looped her arms around his neck and pulled him back in.
After another frustrating, ache-inducing kiss, he rested his chin against the side of her head.
“I’m the one who needs to be sorry, Trick,” she said quietly.
He kissed her neck, then her chin, then slowly spun her around and pointed her toward the wide exterior staircase and fell into step beside her. “Do you want me to keep kissing you?”
She took a deep breath. Just the thought of kissing made her feel better. “Yes. But—”
He grinned. “No buts. Like kissing you is a hardship or something—it’s not. Consider me a willing sacrificial lamb, laying myself on the altar of your lips. We don’t need to do anything you don’t want.”
“I didn’t say I don’t want to, I just don’t think I can.”
“Okay.” He shook his head at her as they hit the landing on his floor.
She stopped abruptly, but he kept going. She had to lift her voice and hustle to catch up at the same time. “It’s not okay for you, though.”
— —
She was crazy. Beautiful, sweet, and more kissable than any woman Trick had ever known, but on this point, he was starting to think she was bat-shit insane.
He laughed, as gently as possible, but he couldn’t help the reaction as she trundled toward him. He opened his apartment door and ushered her inside. Her skirt swished over her bare legs and she smelled like sunshine.
Crazy sunshine.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “You think I need to have sex to survive?”
She pressed her lips together, then sighed, rolling her eyes. “Of course not. That would be ridiculous.”
“My point exactly.”
“But…” She trailed off.
“But what? Come on. Spit it out. Might as well put all our cards on the table.”
She started pacing, traveling the length of the room three times before stopping and staring out the window. “Is this the longest you’ve gone without sex?”
Easy answer. “No.”
She stopped and stared at him, her pretty brown eyes all too knowing. “The longest you’ve gone without sex while on American soil?”
Damn. “Yes.”
He held her gaze until she broke the connection. He was laying himself bare. She needed to get over this hang-up.
“Trick…” She shook her head. “I’m not the girl for you. Go find someone else.”
“You don’t want me to do that.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor, but not before he saw the flash of pain. No, she didn’t. But she still didn’t want to want him for herself, either.
“I don’t know what to say to make this better, but there has to be something.”
“You can’t make it better. You had sex with Lila. I can’t ever get that visual out of my head. I thought I was more mature, that it was no big deal. I was wrong.”
“I’ve had sex with a lot of women, Gaby.” She flinched, but he kept going. “And with full respect to your roommate, she just happened to be the last one. She wasn’t the most memorable, or the best. I don’t say that to disparage her, but to put what I did with her in some context for you.”
She pressed her lips together, maybe to keep from saying something she’d regret. Girls are crazy. He’d heard guys say that shit all the time, but he’d never experienced this overwhelming emotion aimed at him before. Now he got it, at least in part. She had a lot of feelings: desire, jealousy, frustration. Probably more girl feelings that he wouldn’t even be able to name. He couldn’t identify with that, but suddenly crazy felt like the wrong word. Complicated, sure. Messy, definitely. Crazy, complicated, messy…however he named it, it didn’t make him like her any less—hell, it was pr
obably the first time that anyone had cared enough about him to be jealous.
But she already had more of him than anyone else ever had. He just needed to find a way to show her that.
— EIGHT —
The feelings inside Gaby couldn’t be named with words she recognized—they were too sharp and ugly. She didn’t like them. She wanted them to go away. But if she opened her mouth, they’d spill out in ways she couldn’t predict. And Trick just kept going, pushing and poking and making the feelings bigger. Meaner.
“The best was this girl in high school. Do you hate her, too?”
“I don’t hate Lila,” she snapped. “At all. I wish I could be more relaxed like you guys about this. I know I’m a prude, okay? I know that I’m jealous and that’s totally unfair because we don’t have a relationship. I get in my head that it’s just things people do with their bodies, but in my heart…those things are a big deal. I’ve only had sex with four guys, and I’ve thought that maybe I was in love with each of them.”
Dark thunder clouds gathered across Trick’s face. “First of all, we do have a relationship. We’ve had four amazing dates—”
“Three dates,” she whispered, unable to hold herself back from correcting him.
“You’re forgetting shawarma.”
“Oh.”
“And maybe last night wasn’t amazing, but I was tired and my arm hurt. I’m sorry about that.” He rubbed his chest.
“Are you okay?” She took a tentative step in his direction but stopped when he pinned her with a glare.
“I’m fine. You’ve been in love with four people?”
“Well, I thought I might love them.”
“That’s hard to compete with.”
“It’s not a competition.” She took another slow step.
