Just another kind of hell.
He cupped my chin in his hands, bringing our foreheads together.
“A wise woman once said something about reality,” he murmured. “Something like, ‘Nothing at all to change reality. It often goes on whether you like it or not.’” He quoted me. To me.
I sucked in a breath. Not at his words—I barely noticed them—but the proximity of his mouth. It almost brushed against mine as he spoke, and it was like I was a stupid fucking schoolgirl who had never been kissed. I wanted him, with a need that was physical. Yearned for him. At the same time, I wasn’t ready, wasn’t rid of that feeling of uncleanness.
He didn’t kiss me. I was equal parts relieved and disappointed.
He stepped back, twining my hands with his as he directed us towards the entrance.
I grinned at Rosie and Lucy, who strutted past us as if they were on a catwalk. They certainly looked the part. Rosie was going for grunge, wearing tight ripped jeans, a Grateful Dead tee, and boots she’d borrowed off me. The girl was a chameleon. Lucy stayed true to her Breakfast at Tiffany’s elegance in drainpipe tailored pants and a tight-fitting black top which slid off her shoulder.
“Um, I know you would have indulged in a few cocktails already, since you’re alcoholics, but the party’s that way,” I informed them, pointing in the opposite direction.
Rosie slowed. “Sorry, we got a better offer from somewhere where my brother won’t kill my game.” She winked at me, and then her eyes went to Gabriel and my intertwined hands. Her grin widened. “Have fun, lovebirds. Don’t do anything I’d do.” She blew us a kiss and Lucy did a finger wave before they left in the direction of Rosie’s convertible.
Gabriel squeezed my hand. “You sure you don’t want to go and troll the town with Trouble One and Trouble Two?” he teased.
I gazed up at him. At the eyes that had become darker and deeper since I’d met him. Since we’d bathed in each other’s darkness. “No. I don’t need to go looking for trouble when I’m staring right at it,” I whispered.
His eyes went deeper and he grinned. “Ditto,” he murmured.
As loath as I was to leave the moment—I wanted to live in it—something flickered in my mind. “Shoot,” I muttered, glancing over to where the girls had almost reached Rosie’s car. “Rosie has my lipstick. I’ve got to get it before they leave.” I tried to run in their direction but the grip on my hand tightened.
“You sure that’s not just an excuse for you to run and escape from me?” he asked, not teasing any longer.
I gave him a long look and held my breath. Before I could think about it too much, I went up on my tiptoes and pressed my mouth to his. It was quick and closed-mouth, but it did something. Something good, something that had my heart beating just a little quicker. And something bad. Something that had my skin prickling with goose bumps, and not the nice kind. The mixture of the two was an exquisite cocktail that I didn’t drink too deep of, not yet.
I stepped away and left him standing there with a hungry, dumfounded look on his face before turning to run in Rosie’s direction.
“Hey, bitch, don’t run with my lipstick,” I called.
She and Lucy had been chatting and staring at the man who just got out of an SUV, who was seriously yummy and frowning at Lucy. Both snapped their attention to me.
“Okay, I’ll give it back, but only if I can keep the boots,” she yelled back.
I shook my head and slowed my pace. It didn’t look like they were getting in Rosie’s car anytime soon. By the way the hulking Maori man was eating Lucy up with his eyes, she wasn’t going to find anything better anywhere.
If I didn’t have my own caramel, hulking man I’d totally fight her for him. But as impressed as I was with his muscles, his height, and the tribal design snaking down his sinewy forearms, I only appreciated it in a detached kind of way. Not just because men had been ruined for me from those three weeks in that cell. Or maybe they had.
All men except one.
“Who’s the hunk?” I asked when I reached the women.
Lucy chewed her lip and Rosie grinned wickedly at her. “Lucy’s boyfriend,” she said, her eyes on the man who was leaning against the SUV, looking like he was happy to lean there for the rest of time.
Her head snapped to Rosie. “He is fucking not.” Her violet eyes focused on me. “He’s my stalker.”
I grinned, holding my hand out for my lipstick, which Rosie gave me. “Yeah, well, if I were you, I wouldn’t be so cut up about having such a hunky stalker. At least when he ties you up in the basement you’ve got something pretty to look at.” I winked at her and my phone vibrated in my pocket. “So I’m guessing you’ll be sticking around for the party after all?” I surmised, grabbing my phone and glancing down at the unknown caller ID.