Page 22 of Enticed
“My bad. That makes it so much better,” he said, his tone playfully sarcastic. The lightness of the moment and ease of the conversation made me want to test the waters a bit.
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Kind of puts things into perspective,” I began, and he faced me with a questioning look. “Doesn’t make a decade or two age difference seem like that big of a deal, does it?” I let the not-so-subtle suggestion hang in the air between us.
His Adam's apple rose and fell, and something like yearning flashed in his eyes, but it was gone so quick I couldn’t be certain. “No,” he agreed, his voice low and a little gravelly. “It doesn’t.” Goosebumps erupted over my skin. He was so close now, I could lean up and kiss him. He could easily drop his lips to mine and take what I would freely offer. But he wasn’t ready. Instead, he cleared his throat and turned back to the screen, placing his hands on his knees and rubbing them over the soft material of his pants as though they were sweating as he stretched his back.
“Either way, both these guys are red flags. I don’t know why any of these ladies would even give them the time of day,” he commented.
“Well, they’re hot for one,” I explained, and he snorted a laugh. “It’s the whole bad boy persona, the ‘I can fix him’mentality. We love when they can be redeemed. Plus, their devotion to Elena is what epic romances are all about.”
“Whatever you say,” he replied breezily, but there was a hint of hope wrapped in skepticism in his tone.
We fell into comfortable silence as the show played out. I finished my snack and set the tray aside, settling back to get more comfortable and pulling the blanket around me tighter. I offered to share with Gabe, but he declined. I wasn’t surprised. It was far too intimate of a position to be in. Besides, I doubted he was cold with all the warmth radiating off his body. I wanted to curl into him and absorb his heat, but I refrained. It might push him over the edge and cause him to put some distance between us, and I was enjoying this moment of closeness far too much to risk that.
I didn’t realize how exhausted I was from traveling until my eyes began to feel heavy, and I dropped my head back to rest on the back of the sofa. Despite my best efforts to stay awake, they drifted closed and I slumped against Gabe, my head resting on his shoulder. Barely lucid, I waited for him to move me, my limbs so heavy I wasn’t sure I had the strength to move myself. But he didn’t budge, aside from the deep, shuddering breath he drew in and slowly released. The last thing I remembered before sleep pulled me under was the pressure of his cheek dropping to the top of my head. Or maybe it was his lips. I couldn’t be sure and would probably never know.
I dreamed of Gabe scooping me up and cradling me against his chest. My arms looped around his neck, and I nuzzled my face against his shoulder, breathing in the heady scent of his skin as he carried me to bed.
“Mmm, you smell so good,” I groaned, my voice groggy. “I wish I could stay right here, wrapped in your arms,” I confessed, reveling in the feel of his strong arms wrapped around me and his hard, chiseled body against mine.
“Me too,” he said, tightening his hold on me as I swayed in his arms. The admission was so unexpected, my eyes blinked open, and I realized I wasn’t dreaming. This was really happening. I didn’t want him to know I was awake, though just barely, so I closed my eyes again as he lowered to the bed. He covered me up and descended the stairs, returning to the sofa, but when I drifted off again, I dreamed that he’d climbed under the blankets and curled his body around me so he could hold me all night.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GABE
Irubbed at the tight knot in my back and tried to stretch as I waited for the coffee to brew and the pot of water on the tiny stove to boil. My muscles were stiff from sleeping on the pullout sofa last night. Jasmine had fallen asleep while watching TV, her head lolling to the side and landing on my shoulder. I’d let her stay like that for a long time, not wanting to risk waking her up by moving her too soon. When I was satisfied she was good and asleep, I carried her to the bigger bed on the platform behind us. Then I adjusted the sleeper sofa so it was flat and stretched out across it. It wasn't the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept in to say the least.
The sound of rustling came from the back of the trailer, and I glanced over to the bed. My chest tightened with longing at the sight of Jasmine stirring beneath the blankets. It had been tempting to lie down beside and hold her for a little while last night, especially after she sleepily confessed that was exactly what she wanted. My reply slipped off my tongue before I could stop it, but I prayed she wouldn’t remember this morning.
I retrieved two mugs from the cabinet and grabbed the zero sugar caramel coffee creamer I’d found in the fridge. She yawnedand stretched before slipping out of bed and descending the few steps that led to the main living area.
“Mornin’,” she said, her voice scratchy from sleep as she rubbed her eyes. Her bun was a mess, listing to one side with several strands of hair coming loose from her scrunchie, and her skin was flushed pink from sleep. I liked seeing her this way far too much. She was a beautiful woman, but first thing in the morning, she was kind of adorable.
She stumbled to the bathroom, and I fought the urge to watch her retreating form. Her sleepwear was far too enticing, though in the light of day, I found it was a little easier to look at her and not imagine things I had no business thinking about. She’d caught me off guard last night when she came out of the bathroom wearing those tiny shorts and tank top. I hadn’t had time to put up my defenses, and I’d nearly swallowed my tongue. She’d noticed too. Her breath had hitched, and a blush had spread over her cheeks. I’d practically ran to the bathroom to get away from her. Looking at her like that made me feel things I didn't want to feel for my best friend’s daughter.
Jasmine reappeared a few moments later, looking only slightly more alert. She had thankfully thrown on a robe, and though it was one of those short ones that still revealed plenty of leg, I could no longer see the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric of her cami or the crease at the top of her thighs revealed by her short shorts.
“Coffee?” I asked, glancing away and shaking the image from my head. She’d forgotten to set her alarm last night, but I knew the smell of freshly brewed coffee would rouse her...
“Please,” she said and sank down in one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table as I poured some into a mug. “My creamer is in the fridge.”
“Already got it,” I announced, bringing it to the table along with her cup. She added a generous pour to her coffee, and Ichuckled as it nearly overflowed. “I guess I should’ve left a little more room for your creamer.”
“I like it sweet,” she announced unapologetically.
“Noted,” I said as I went back to the tiny stove and dropped some eggs into the boiling water. She’d revealed that on race days, she always had two hard boiled eggs, a banana, and one slice of sourdough toast for breakfast. While I waited for the eggs to cook, I poured myself a cup and brought it to the table. Pulling out the chair opposite Jasmine, I winced as I slowly lowered myself into it, my movements stiff and tedious.
Jasmine watched me over the rim of her mug, one eyebrow cocked as she blew on her coffee to cool it down. “What’s wrong, old man? Got a kink in your back from sleeping on that glorified futon?”
I laughed at her playful gibe, but a tight knot formed in my chest at the reminder of our age difference. I wasn’t exactly an old man, but I was certainly too old for her, a fact I hated but needed to remember.
“Maybe,” I replied nonchalantly, “or I could’ve tweaked it when I was trying to get away from you before you could soak my shirt in drool last night.” Her mouth fell open in incredulity. “I don’t mind you falling asleep on my shoulder, but I draw the line at slobbering all over me.”
“I do not drool,” she claimed haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Whatever you say, Cujo,” I replied, my tone laced with skepticism.
“Did you just compare me to a St. Bernard with rabies?” Instead of answering, I shrugged. “You jerk,” she screeched, playfully kicking me under the table, and I doubled over with laughter. “That’s it. I want a new traveling companion. You’re supposed to be pumping me up for the race, not insulting me.”
