Page 63 of The Striker
What does Wyatt have that he doesn't?
The truth is, nothing. There’s nothing Wyatt has that Gabriel doesn’t. Not anything I’m looking for, at least.
“He asked,” I explain. “His sister is on the swim team, and—” I shrug, “I don’t know. He seemed nice enough, and he just happened to be the first guy to ask. I’m not trying to get into a relationship here. It was just a date. Nothing more.”
Gabriel's jaw tightens as he absorbs my words. "Were you planning to sleep with him?" he asks. I don’t miss the accusation in his tone..
“Excuse me?" I rear back and fold my arms defensively across my chest.
Gabriel stops pacing and faces me fully. “If the date had gone well, were you planning on fucking him?”
What the hell is wrong with him? Indignation rises inside of me. "No, of course not. Do you seriously think I'd do something like that? Do you think I’m that easy?"
Gabriel’s gaze remains steady on mine, and I can sense something brewing beneath the surface. The tension between us crackles.
He curses. “I didn’t say you were easy.”
“No, you just implied it.”
Gabriel curses. "Fine," he concedes, his voice low and intense. "My bad. I’m sorry. But you went on a date to test your boundaries. Is that it?"
I nod cautiously, wary of where this conversation is heading.
It feels like a trap.
"And you're planning to go on other dates," he continues, his tone probing. "See how things go with other guys?"
I shift uncomfortably, uncertainty gnawing at me. "I don't know. Maybe," I confess, the weight of my own words sinking in. I hadn’t really thought about anything beyond getting through tonight, but yes. Eventually, there will be other dates. Tonight was a disaster. I won’t be going on any more dates anytime soon, but damn. I was so close. I made it through dinner. The car ride. Being alone with Wyatt in a confined space. Things only wentsideways after he got that call from his friend. If he’d just taken me home?—
"And then what?" Gabriel steps closer, his presence overwhelming as he invades my personal space. "After the dates. We'll say you go on five, maybe ten. What's the next part of your little test, hmm?"
I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. "I ..." I falter, unsure of how to respond.
"If things go well, are you going to let one of these guys kiss you?" His question hangs in the air, accusing and loaded with implications.
But there are no other guys. This is all hypothetical.
Before I can protest, Gabriel's hand cups my jaw, sending a jolt of electricity through me. My breath catches in my throat as he draws me closer, his touch setting my nerves ablaze.
My stomach does a somersault.
“And if you don’t freak out after that kiss, what comes next? Are you going to let one of them touch you?” His other hand moves to cup my breast, and I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Gabe—" I begin, but my words falter as his hands guide me backward until my back meets the solid wall of the living room.
I'm trapped, pinned beneath his intense gaze.
My heart races, thundering against my ribcage.
Neither of us speaks, but the silence is deafening, broken only by the sound of my shallow breaths. I feel exposed, vulnerable, and achingly aware of every inch of his body touching mine.
My eyes are wide as I stare up at Gabriel in the dimly lit room, his hand still on my breast.
The atmosphere is thick with anticipation.
I should push him away. Make him stop. But I don’t do either of those things. Because Gabriel is touching me and fuck, I missed this.
“Is that the end goal?” he asks, his fingers flexing around my breast and grazing my sensitive nipple. My back arches into his touch. “To be touched?”
