But he’d called her Mich.
She stepped closer, if such a thing were possible. Their bodies brushed, the points of her breasts nudging his torso.
“Why was I the only person?” she pressed, her tone insistent. “Why, Gabe?”
The spark in his eyes was her only warning.
“Because of this!” The words burst out of him like a storm. He curled his big hands around the thin straps of her tank top, clinging like they were a lifeline, and lowered his forehead to hers. His voice was harsh with longing. “God, Michelle, I want you so fucking bad I can’t think straight.”
Desire coursed through her, hot and dizzying. Was it the answer she’d expected? No. Would she take it?
Hell yes.
She leaned in further, pushing her body into his. Her hands came up to grip his thick forearms. “This is why you ignored me?” she demanded, her voice breathy. “Because I’m too sexy and amazing?”
He groaned, his fingers tightening on the delicate straps of cotton. She imagined him ripping them, her shirt falling off her body.
Yes. Take it off. Touch me.
It was what she’d said back then, the memory burned into her brain. She was very close to saying it again now.
“It’s because I can never say no to you,” he ground out. “Seemed smarter to keep my distance, in case . . .”
“In case of what?”
His voice was low, the backs of his fingers hot against her skin. “In case you asked me to stay.”
“And what if I had?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you ever do anything about it before that day?” This was another thing she’d wondered about. She’d known him too well to think he was just an opportunist taking advantage of her teasing.
“We were friends.”
“Well, we’re not anymore,” she murmured, searching his expression as if it held more answers.
“You’re right. We’re not.” He sighed and some of the tension left his body. In a move that surprised her, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft kiss. “I never wanted to hurt you, Mich. I’m sorry that I did.”
Her pulse beat heavy and thick in her throat. The moment held a note of unreality. Gabe was here, his hard, hot body pressed to hers, his hands wrapped in her clothing, his cheek resting against the top of her head. The scent of his cologne was faint, the world around them quiet, save for the light chirping of birds outside.
I want you so fucking bad.
The words she’d pulled from him mingled with her own feelings, her own memories, her own needs.
“Gabe?” She waited for him to meet her gaze again. When he did, she licked her lips and said, “I think it’s time we finished what we started.”
He blinked, eyes going wide. “You mean . . .”
“We’re never going to move on until we get this out of the way.” And then she went up on tiptoe, leaning her body flush against his. Lowering her voice, she whispered in his ear, “Let’s fuck.”
Chapter 7
At some point during the argument, angry tension had turned to sexual tension. Gabe’s jet-lagged brain couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but it was impossible to mistake where they were now.
Let’s fuck.
Michelle’s words rang in his ears, heating his blood. His need for her overwhelmed his senses, and even though some part of him knew it was a bad idea, he preferred to see the logic in her suggestion.
He’d held back in the past, but once he’d known the taste of her, he couldn’t stay in touch, because he’d always be drawn back to her.
Like now, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but he slammed a mental door on it.
They wanted each other. They were alone together. And right now, she was pressing those stunning tits right into his body.
Let’s fuck.
Well, okay then.
Curling his hand around the back of her head, he slid his fingers into the warm mass of hair clipped up in a messy bun. She leaned into his touch and he moved closer, backing her against the wall, where a framed photo showed seven-year-old Michelle dressed in white, holding a tiny children’s bible and a pink rosary. She looked angelic, with her head bowed and her eyes downcast—except for the slight smirk twisting her mouth.
Gabe grimaced. “I’m going to hell. Why is this picture still here?”
“My mother believes it’s my greatest achievement. And no, you probably shouldn’t sex me against the wall under my First Communion glamour shot.”
Gabe looked into her eyes while his hands roamed down her curves to cup her sweet ass. “Is that what I’m doing, Mich? Sexing you?”
She sucked in a breath and he was gratified by the way her lashes fluttered when he squeezed. “I will be severely disappointed if you don’t.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the living room. “Sofa?”
Michelle gave a firm shake of her head. “My mother will kill us if we have sex on her new couch.”
“Upstairs, then.”
He grabbed her hand to pull her up the stairs, but she tugged him back and sent him a withering glare.
“Bring the fucking suitcase,” she hissed. “You’re not going anywhere.”
He gave her a long look, then grabbed the suitcase and stepped back, extending a hand toward the staircase. “Lead the way.”
That sexy glare shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. He was still angry with her, still didn’t want to stay here, but he’d never stopped wanting her. The thought of getting her naked and finally learning his way around that hot little body of hers was convincing him that maybe he could stay here for just a little longer.
The one who got away, Fabian had called her. And even though they’d never technically dated or had sex, Gabe couldn’t deny that it felt that way with Michelle. She was the one person who’d haunted his thoughts all these years, who made him wish things had been different so they could be together.
Michelle ascended the stairs like a queen. Gabe followed with his eyes glued to her shapely butt—barely covered by her pajama shorts—as it swayed side to side, entrancing him. He gripped the wooden bannister so tight, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it splintered under his hand. His heart felt like it was going to burst from needing her, and his cock was rock hard, tenting the front of his sweats.
Holy shit.
They were really doing this.
Really about to have sex.
He was really about to have sex with Michelle.
At the top of the stairs, she grabbed his hand and they moved down the hallway, but when he would have turned to her old bedroom, she pulled him toward the room he’d slept in the night before. Gabe balked, rearing back like a horse spotting a snake.
“I can’t have sex with you in your brother’s bed,” he whispered.
“We’re definitely not doing it in my mom’s craft room,” Michelle shot back. “She’ll know. And why are you whispering?”
He didn’t know why he was whispering. Something about being in this house full of old memories made him feel like a kid again.
“Come on.” She pulled on his hand. “It’s not my brother’s room anymore and besides, the bed in there is bigger, and you, my friend, are a very big boy.”