And then she shot a look at his crotch and smirked.
For years, Gabe had imagined this moment. Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed it would go quite like this. Shit, it wasn’t even seven in the morning.
Gabe took a deep breath and let Michelle draw him into the room, which thankfully no longer looked like it had when her brother, Junior, lived here. The posters of cars and Janet Jackson had been replaced by watercolor paintings of Old San Juan and Rome. And the window overlooked the backyard, which meant he didn’t have to worry about his parents being able to see inside.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to consider something like that.
Michelle ducked into the adjoining bathroom while Gabe stored his suitcase in the corner by the closet. When she came back, she carried an unopened box of condoms. Moving to the nightstand, she ripped the box open and set it down.
Gabe raised an eyebrow, but she stood with her back to him. He waited near the end of the bed, unsure how to proceed. Should he go up behind her? Wait for her to come to him? Fuck, this was awkward.
Before he could decide, Michelle stripped her tank top over her head. Gabe’s breath backed up in his throat at the sight of her bare back, and he almost choked when she shoved her shorts and panties down, giving him a full view of that gorgeous ass of hers. She reached up to pull the clip from her hair. Raven waves cascaded down her back, obscuring the bird tattoo below her neck. He’d have to examine that more thoroughly later. And then she turned to face him.
Chest tight, he didn’t move. Her body was a revelation—narrow shoulders, full breasts that had always held a siren song over him, dusky pink nipples that he knew were as soft as rose petals, round hips that flared out from a trim waist, and strong dancer’s legs. She was thicker than she’d been in high school, but she looked strong, confident, and sexy as hell.
Staring at her breasts, all he could think about was the last time he’d touched them. Tasted them. And how it had all gone so wrong.
This was probably a mistake, but he didn’t fucking care. Years of pent-up desire screamed at him to close the distance between them.
Instead, he growled, “Get over here.”
A mischievous light sparked in her eye, and she pounced on him. He caught her in his arms and their mouths crashed together.
Unlike their friendship, the kiss picked up right where they’d left off all those years ago.
Back then, their kiss had been breathless and exploratory, fueled by surprise and marijuana. This kiss was rough and angry, and unbelievably hot, inflamed by years of unresolved sexual tension and emotions Gabe didn’t want to name. He ate at her mouth with his lips and tongue, unable to get enough. Michelle knocked his hat off, skimming her fingers through his short hair. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she arched her body against his. Gabe held her close, fusing them together, reveling in the feel of her tight little body pressed to his. Her curves fit perfectly against the planes and angles of his frame, and his cock hardened further, nudging at her belly. She was like living fire in his embrace, and he didn’t care if he got burned.
“I’m still mad at you for trying to leave,” she mumbled between kisses.
He nipped her lower lip with his teeth. “And I’m still pissed at you for trapping me in the Bronx.”
She had the nerve to laugh, a deep throaty sound that shot heat straight through him. Then she grabbed the waistband of his pants and yanked them down. “Let’s go.”
This was what happened when you worked in a gym. You started to view gym clothes as real clothes, which made it way too easy for a naked woman to pull your pants down.
It made quite the case for sweatpants as day wear.
Clad in a T-shirt and boxer briefs, Gabe glanced down at his pants around his ankles. “¿Así?”
“Don’t be sentimental,” she said with a teasing grin.
“All right, it’s like that.” He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, taking care to flex as much as humanly possible while he did it. Once the shirt was off, he grinned at the stunned look on Michelle’s face.
“Holy fucking shit, Gabe. Do you even lift, bro?”
That startled a deep laugh out of him, but it turned into a strangled gasp when she pressed her palms to his pecs and ran them down his muscles—straight toward his cock.
“Mich—” he gasped, and she shook her head.
“We’ve wasted enough goddamn time, Gabe. Don’t mess around.”
God, she was amazing. As direct and irreverent as she’d always been, but somehow even sexier. “Whatever you say, babe.”
Her hair was loose, so he sank his hands into the long mass of it, holding on for dear life as she gripped the waistband of his underwear and carefully peeled them off him.
He was already rock hard. He’d been fighting off an erection since the moment she’d confronted him at the bottom of the stairs in a skimpy little pajama set. From his higher vantage point, he’d gotten a good look at the valley between her breasts. Then she’d had to go and cross her arms, and the sight had nearly brought him to his knees.
If she wanted him on his knees, all she had to do was ask. He’d never been able to deny her anything.
“Fuck, you’re big,” she said, her eyes glued to his cock.
He suppressed a groan. “That’s what got us into trouble in the first place.”
She met his eyes, hers holding a glint of humor. “Goddamn Lizzie DeStefano.”
“Did she really ask you if I had a big dick?”
“No, she said she thought you had a big dick, and then I . . .” She glanced at his cock again, her cheeks turning pink. “I was curious.”
Michelle circled his length with strong, capable fingers, her expression pensive. “It turns out she was right.”
“She didn’t know from experience,” Gabe ground out, because this part had seemed important all those years ago. “She and I never—”
“Shh. I know.”
And then Michelle gripped his cock tighter and gave it a lazy stroke. Gabe’s muscles tightened and he bit back a curse.
God bless Lizzie DeStefano.
Michelle’s gaze snapped back to his, as if she were waking from a spell. “Come on,” she said, letting go of him and moving to the bedside table. She took a condom out of the box and passed it to him. “Put that on.”
He ripped it open and rolled the latex on while she flipped the comforter back.
“What are you doing?” He’d made the bed before trying to sneak out, figuring it was the least he could do.
Michelle sent him a bland look as she climbed onto the middle of the bed. “I’d rather not have to explain weird stains to my mother.”
He blanched at the reminder of where they were. “Oh. Right.”
She patted the sheets. “Now lie down.”
He raised an eyebrow at her command but complied, stretching out on his back next to her. He reached for her, but she threw her leg over his hips, straddling him. When she rose up, positioning herself over his cock, he gripped her waist to hold her in place.
“Espera,” he said.
She shot him an incredulous look. “Wait for what?”
This was going way faster than Gabe had expected. Yeah, he was ready for her, but was she ready? They’d barely touched each other, and unless you counted angry banter, there’d been little in the way of foreplay.