Chapter Twelve
Gabe was not going to masturbate in her shower. He leaned into the spray and turned the water colder, hoping it would kill his raging erection. The way Elle had eye-fucked him while he soaped up her body really hadn’t helped with his control. As it stood, he was hanging by a thread. He waited until he couldn’t stand the freezing temperature before he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.
He had almost thrown caution to the wind and ripped off Elle’s panties. Really, who would have blamed him? She’d been so close, her body shaking beneath his touch, everything he wanted right there in his face, practically begging for his mouth. If he’d licked his way down her stomach, she wouldn’t have stopped him. No, if her response was anything to go by, she might just have urged him on.
But he’d promised he wouldn’t take advantage of her, and it had become vitally important to him that he keep his word to this woman.
Gabe grabbed a fluffy pink towel off the rack and cursed himself. He was a grown-ass man—he could be in the same room with Elle without tossing her onto her back and banging her brains out. At least he could as long as she kept those control-unraveling looks to herself.
He opened the door slowly, wanting to give her plenty of time to hear him coming. “Elle?”
“In here.”
Following the sound of her voice across the bedroom, Gabe peeked into a walk-in closet. The damn thing was filled to the brim with all sorts of chick crap, but somewhere along the way she’d found a pair of raggedy sweats and was holding them up proudly. But he had eyes only for her. She wore a tiny pair of pink shorts with a drawstring that just begged for him to undo.
Damn it, he needed to focus on something else.
Gabe dragged his gaze up, but he never made it to her face. The white tank top was borderline see-through and he couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t wearing a bra. Why the hell wasn’t she wearing a bra? Hadn’t the shower been enough of a test—one he’d passed with flying colors, thank you very much? This woman was obviously trying to kill him.
With a Herculean effort, he focused above her shoulders. She’d pulled her hair into a high ponytail. Between that and her fresh-scrubbed face, Elle was the very picture of the girl next door. More like the wet dream next door.
“Um…you’re staring.”
He couldn’t help it, nor could he help noticing she seemed to like his eyes on her body. Gabe cursed as he grabbed the sweatpants out of her hands and hurried back to the bathroom. It was rude, but the peace between them was too fragile to ruin because his dick was making a tent of the stupid pink towel. He took his time dressing, helped along by the fact the sweats were too small. Old and gray, they obviously weren’t hers.
So whose were they? An ex-boyfriend’s, maybe kept for their nostalgic memories? Yeah, he didn’t like that idea. He kind of wanted to wear them home and then have a bonfire in his backyard—not the most well adjusted plan, but he liked it.
By the time he’d dressed, he had his physical reaction under control. Still, it was going to be a long-ass night with her prancing around in those cute little booty shorts. Before he could make it back into the bedroom, a faint ringing came from the pile of his clothes on the bathroom floor. Who the hell was calling him right now? Not Nathan, that was for damn sure. Gabe fished his phone out of the clothes on the floor. “Hello?”
“We have a problem.”
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Lynn.” If the new G.M. of the L.A. club was calling him, it’d have to be a big problem. She wasn’t the type to need hand-holding. “What’s going on?”
“Like I said, we have a problem. That douche you fired? He’s threatening a lawsuit if he’s not compensated.”
Christ, this was the last thing he needed. “He was skimming off the top. What judge is going to rule in his favor?”
“Don’t know and don’t care. He wants to talk to you personally.”
“He’s got my number.”
“Yeah, well, he wants a face-to-face meeting to discuss things.”
Gabe watched Elle stack some folded blankets on her bed. He shut the door and lowered his voice. “I’m not flying down there like some fucking dog he’s called to heel without talking to him first. Give him my number if he doesn’t have it already.”
“I thought you might say that.” She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Lynn.”
“You can thank me with a raise, sweet cheeks.”
He laughed. “You keep this thing running smoothly and it’s yours.”
“I’ll remember you said that.”
He hung up and walked back into the bedroom. Elle gave an oddly shaky smile. “Problem?”
“Just some work stuff.” Stuff he didn’t want to think about with her standing there, looking so adorably sexy. “You have any movies?”
She blinked. “Uh, yeah.”
Duh. Of course she had movies. Everyone had movies these days. Christ, the longer he was around her, the stupider he sounded. Gabe cleared his throat. “Might as well watch one. I don’t think either of us is getting much sleep tonight. And you need another dose of meds.”
Elle rolled her eyes, but she didn’t bother to argue. He followed her down the stairs, taking the time to examine his surroundings—and keep his eyes off her ass. The pale carpet and paint should have created a washed-out vibe, but instead they seemed to be created solely to frame the bright prints lining the walls. Gabe recognized several different local artists he’d seen in Nathan’s gallery, people who did everything from portraits to landscapes to abstract. Somehow she’d managed to meld them together so they didn’t appear chaotic. He approved.
The kitchen was painted a crisp lime green that offset white cabinets and appliances, and everything was immaculate. Either she never used it or she was a complete neat freak. “You cook?”
She stopped in the doorway and shrugged. “Not really. I manage to screw up boiling water. Makes my mom despair at my ability to ever find a husband.”
At least there was something she couldn’t do. The woman was enough to give any man a complex. Gabe wandered around the island and opened the fridge. It wasn’t completely bare—there was enough stuff to throw together a basic meal if he got creative. “Did you eat?”
“You really are a mother hen. Yes, Gabe, I had dinner with Roxanne earlier. No, I’m not hungry. If you are, feel free to help yourself.”
“You’re so cute when you’re patronizing me.” He closed the door and pointed at the Benadryl. “Dose yourself.”
She laughed. She had a really nice laugh. “Unbearably overbearing.”
“There you go again, kicking me when I’m down.” He waited until she took the meds and then cleaned out the little cup. “Now we can relax.”
The living room was a nice surprise. He’d half-expected to find delicate ladylike furniture similar to something a grandmother would own, complete with doilies. Instead, there was an off-white sectional, huge and comfortable-looking. The television was a big screen, not as large as the mammoth one he had, but it wasn’t something he’d be embarrassed to own. When he shot her a questioning look, she shrugged. “My brother picked it out.”
He moved on to the case holding her DVD collection. Typical chick flicks and artsy types, but at the bottom he struck gold. Rambo. Predator. Alien and Aliens. All the Terminator movies. Looked like the princess had a thing for action movies.
“Don’t judge me.”
“Why would I judge you?” Gabe ran his finger along the titles, finding more favorites. Die Hard. Demolition Man. Tremors.
“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying eighties action movies. They’re classics.”
“You say that like I’m arguing with you.” Though obviously someone had—multiple someones from the way she automatically jumped on the defensive. “I happen to be into action flicks, eighties or otherwise.”
She muttered something, and he finally tore his attention from the movies. “What?”
“Nothing.” Elle sat, the very picture of innocence. She bit her lip when he pinned her with a look. “Okay, fine. I’m just kind of surprised we have something in common.”
“We both like tattoos,” he pointed out. “It was bound to happen again eventually.”
She opened her mouth and then shut it. There was that blush again, right on cue. “You’re just so…”
“Sexy. Charming.”
“Overwhelming.”
He decided on Terminator 2: Judgment Day and stuck the disc in the DVD player. “This is one of my favorites.”
“Mine, too.”
There was hope for them yet. But he had no intention of letting this conversation end. “You say I’m overwhelming like you’re not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
Elle already had the remotes ready when he settled in next to her. She tensed up for half a second, but finally relaxed against his side. He wanted to put his arm around her, but Gabe wasn’t sure how she’d react.
“Well, I’m not sure. It’s not like I expected this to happen when I crawled into bed that night.” She paged through the menu and started the movie, oblivious to her affect on him. “I mean, we’re just so different. Too different.”
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
“I don’t have to convince myself of the truth. Look at me and look at you. God, that sounds so shallow, but you know what I mean. You hop around the West Coast, living the high life. I’m a freaking art curator for your brother.”
“What’s your point?”
“How can you even ask that?” She made a sound suspiciously close to a teakettle going off. “It’s pretty freaking clear in my eyes. And, yeah, I know I didn’t exactly give off the right impression when we, uh, met, but I don’t do stuff like that. Ever.”
Gabe would have been blind not to figure that out for himself. No one wore crappy lingerie like that in real life, not to mention everything about her screamed sweet and innocent, even while she was coming around his fingers.
And he really shouldn’t have let himself think that.
“I’m asking you again, because you still haven’t given me a legit answer—what’s your point?”
“My point is that you’re obviously used to a different kind of female. One who wants the same things you do. I’m not her.”
He would have laughed if he didn’t feel like he’d stepped into the twilight zone. “You have some pretty hard-core ideas even though you’ve spent all of a few hours with me.”
She went on as if he hadn’t said anything. “I like my life. It’s not exciting or anything, but it’s mine. I want to settle down and have a family.”
Wow, she really had the wrong idea about him. Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. The guy she described had been Gabe—a few years ago. He’d been wild, but even then he hadn’t partied like she seemed to think he did, and he sure as hell hadn’t banged his way through an army of skanks either.
If he were going to be honest with her, with himself, he’d tell her that the life she just described was one he’d come to want more than anything else in the world in the last couple of years. But he couldn’t force himself to give voice to the longing that left him breathless.
Besides, Elle obviously wasn’t ready to hear about his past—or his future. When she started to talk again, Gabe pressed his finger to her lips and went with something to lighten the mood. “That night? That was some seriously terrible lingerie, babe.”
She gasped. “It was not!”
“It really, really was.”
“I’m not arguing with you about this right now, or ever.” She shot up, horror widening her blue eyes. “Oh my God! I forgot to grab it before the cleaning crew showed up! They probably gave it to Nathan days ago.” Her eyes watered and she buried her face in her hands. “If he finds out it’s mine, he’ll fire me for sure.”
Gabe swallowed his guilt and spouted off another white lie. “They probably just threw it out. How about you just relax and stop thinking? Do you think you can manage that for one night?”
“No, I can’t. It’s like you haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said.”
Yeah, he had, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her being miserable after everything he’d put her through tonight. He pulled her hands away from her face. “Are you uncomfortable?”
Her blue eyes were wide as she shook her head. “Not particularly.”
Gabe took a deep breath. “Do you want me to move?”
Again a pause, this one a little longer. He could almost see the battle between what she wanted and what she thought she should want. Finally, Elle shook her head again. Thank God. He didn’t know if he had the strength to move to the other side of the couch right now. This next question was harder, but Gabe couldn’t stand being this close and not at least asking. “Can I…hold you?”
“If you insist.”
She was already burrowing into him by the time he got his arm up and over her. Christ, this felt good. Her head settled perfectly into the dip of his shoulder, giving him a whiff of her shampoo. “See, I’m not so bad.”
Elle rolled her eyes. “I never said you were bad—just different.”
“Different can be good.”
“I thought you said I’m supposed to stop thinking.”
“Touché.” He could feel her smile against his chest. This was going to be one hell of a long night, but he’d known that going into it. One thing Gabe hadn’t even managed to hope for was to have her here on the couch and in his arms. With them cuddling like this, he could almost pretend this little slice of domesticity wasn’t just a fantasy. That he might really have a chance with Elle. “Get comfortable and let’s watch Sarah Connor kick some ass.”
After a brief hesitation, she slipped her arm over his stomach, her nails making his skin twitch, and gave a shuddery sigh. “Thank you for taking care of me, Gabe.”
“Anytime, babe, any-freaking-time.”