Not Over You

Dear God, he prayed he was right.



He exhaled and took a right onto Ivy Lane.



A light shone in the second-story windows, and he frowned. It was doubtful that Summer had left the light on. She was too conscientious of stuff like that, and she had the uncanny ability to see in the dark like a cat.



Just then, a black cat jumped up on the window, rubbing its body back and forth on the glass. What in the world was Blackbeard doing there?



Maybe Summer had some inventory to do. Maybe he could check on her, offer his help, or at least his company.



Dashing around the back, he checked for her truck and found it, gleaming under a street lamp. With a smile, he strode to the back door, intent on knocking, when Blackbeard came running out, leaving the door ajar.



The cat was used to roaming where he wanted, and most of the townspeople knew who he was and gave him little treats, so Gabriel didn’t bother to try to catch him. Instead, he slipped through the door, and made his way upstairs, calling Summer’s name.



“Gabriel?” She appeared at the top of the stairs, eating a bowl of something while only wearing a t-shirt.



He almost tripped up the stairs at the sight of her shapely legs. The t-shirt barely covered her, so it left little to the imagination. Immediately, he stopped his ogling and froze on the stairs, staring the wooden steps. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were, uh… What are you doing here so late?”



“Eating a bowl of cereal while Blackbeard goes catting around.”



He frowned at the wood grain. “Do you do this every night?”



“No.”



Relief flowed through him. Although, he still couldn’t figure out why she was dressed the way she was. It wasn’t his business, not completely, but it was strange.



“Usually I’m entertaining gentleman callers while he roams the streets,” she said in that voice he’d grown to dread. The one that meant he needed to turn around and go back the way he came, if he knew what was good for him.



Only he knew what was good for him—she was. She didn’t believe it, was all.



“Sounds fun. Care to entertain this gentleman?” he asked, silently praying he was going about this the right way.



The clink of the spoon dropping into the bowl made him grin. He risked taking another look at her. Summer’s mouth had dropped open, and then she caught him looking and put on a haughty face.



“Doubtful,” she said, turning away and disappearing from the top.



That wasn’t a no. He jogged the rest of the way up the stairs, catching her at the sink of the studio apartment. She rinsed out the bowl and set it down, then headed to the bathroom.



Guess he’d have to entertain both of them.



He glanced around the room. A lot had changed since he’d last seen it, but to be fair, he’d only been up here once and that was to help Rose unload some heavy boxes.



The open floor plan had remained the same, but the décor had changed. Gone was all the mismatched furniture. In its place were comfortable-looking seating areas, a table for two, and freshly painted cabinets, and granite countertops in the kitchen, as well an antique dresser with a flat-screen television on top. Off to the side was a small room with a very large bed.



Now, that was definitely new.



“Where does Rose keep all the extra inventory?”



“Alexander bought the building across the street, the one he’d originally had up for sale.”



“Guess when you’re that loaded, buying a building from yourself makes sense,” he said to himself, moving to the long couch by the front windows. “I thought you were staying at Strawberry Grove.” He sat down, and waited for her to join him.



She emerged from the bathroom a minute later, still wearing the same t-shirt but she had put on a pair of loose boxer shorts. “It’s better if I live here, until—”



“You move in with me,” he said.



Her eyes widened, just a little. She didn’t move from her spot by the television. “Yes.”



“At first, I thought I’d come up here and see if you wanted any help or maybe just some company.”



“I told you I have lots of company—except tonight,” she said, her gaze skittering away. She crossed her arms and took a deep breath.



He took the opportunity to continue, and ignore her little jab. “But on second thought, I think you were right. We do need a timeframe. In fact, I was thinking of speeding things up.”



“Do you?” she asked, still not looking at him.



“Yes.” He patted the seat beside him. “Why don’t you come sit over here? I’d rather not yell our plans.”



Stiffly, Summer marched to him, and he hid a smile. She sat on the opposite side of the sofa, so far away that she might as well be in the bedroom.



“How much longer?” she asked.



He scooted closer to her. “Maybe next week or two?”



“I don’t want to wait another week.”



“You at least need to meet my family first. Can you wait until after this weekend?”



“Maybe.” She shoved a pillow between them.



Undeterred, he scooted even closer, tossing the pillow on the floor.



“It’s going to get dirty,” she cried, starting for it, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.



“The pillow is fine, and knowing you the way I do, we could eat off the floor and not get sick.”



“Guess clean freak and town whore doesn’t mash very well, does it?” Summer said, but there was less of a bite to her words. She settled against the couch again, and he unhanded her.



“For a town whore, you do a really crappy job at entertaining men.”



Summer finally turned to look at him. “Excuse me?”



“Honey, you’ve been gone more than you’ve actually lived here, and if you’d really been servicing all the men that you have been accused of sleeping with, or bragged about being with you, for that matter, then you’d still be on your back. It’s not mathematically possible.”



For a moment, she gaped at him, and he knew in his heart she wanted to laugh, or punch him in the throat. Maybe at the same time. He’d welcome either if it meant she would smile, if it meant she could erase today.



She did neither. “You were always good at math.”



“You were, too.”



“I was outstanding at math,” she said.



“Chemistry, too,” he said. “I know you’ve always made me feel like I could spontaneously combust, even if it’s not possible without an accelerant.”



“Maybe I’m the accelerant.” Her lashes lowered, and then she peered up at him, giving him a look so hot that he did indeed believe she was the accelerant. She lifted her chin, leaning into him. Their breath mingled. He felt her hand touch the outer edge of his, then one of her fingers caressed his, and he almost moaned.



“Summer,” he said hoarsely.



She brought his hand up to her mouth, kissing the center, and then nibbling her way across his knuckles. “In biology, I learned that a man has more nerve endings in his hand than a woman.” She sucked a finger into her mouth and nipped at the tip.



Sensation flooded his body, straight from the tip of his finger to his dick. His cock swelled. He couldn’t help it, nor did he try to hide it.



“Is that true?” she asked around that very lucky digit.



“Feels like it.” He fought for control when she took another finger into her mouth, sucking it down to where it joined to the last knuckle. He could only imagine what that would feel like in other places. Another rush of lust jolted him. “Please.”



“Are you begging me to show you what I do with all those gentleman callers?” she asked, and he was too turned on to take exception.



But a flash of clarity assured him that no matter how he answered it would be wrong, so he pulled her to him, straight into his lap, and lifted her chin. Then he kissed the daylights out of her.



But was either of them content with that? Not in the least.



Summer straddled his lap, putting his hands on her butt. He cupped her there, groaning at the feel of her firm, plump flesh. Then she moved, rocked her hips in such a way that his eyes rolled to the back of his head.



“What are you—?”



She silenced him with a kiss, still rocking her hips against the length of him, and dug her fingers into his shoulder. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”



“As good as it did the last time you did this,” he said, somehow remembering them as teenagers, parked in his truck, with her riding his lap for all she was worth. Neither of them had taken off the last of their clothes, but they’d come pretty close. They’d come pretty close to giving everything to each other.



“I’m much better now,” she said throatily. “All that practice, you know.”



If she wanted to lie, then so could he. “Me, too. Can’t tell you how many women I’ve let ride me like this. They’ve always gone home happy, too,” he said, helping her move now. He gripped her ass, pulling down and pushing against her. Every glide made him hotter, flamed the lust and desire that he’d been holding in check for as long as he could remember.



“I don’t have on a bra this time,” she gasped.



He nipped her lip. “I noticed.”



“You did not.” She nipped his in return. “You’re too much of a gentleman to look that close.”



“I’m up close and personal now.”



“If I promise to keep moving, would you want to touch me t—”



His hands were up her shirt before she could finish her sentence, eyes closing in pure pleasure. She filled his hands, her nipples beading against his palms.



“Oh God. That’s perfect. You’re perfect,” he whispered. She rocked harder, making his eyes open and his breath grow ragged. “We have to stop.”



“But I thought you wanted to be entertained,” she said, lips brushing his ear. “I thought you wanted to make me as happy as all those women you let ride you like this.”



Fabric slid against fabric, the thin material of her pajama bottoms and his khaki pants making it possible for him to feel everything. He flicked her nipple with the pad of his thumb in response, and she made a little noise.



“Like that?”



“Do it again, and I’ll tell you.”



The couch began to squeak with their efforts, and her breasts started to bounce. He flicked her nipples with his thumbs, one at a time, while maintaining an iron grip on his control. No way would she make him come in his pants like some teenager… like she had when they were teenagers.



She ground down harder against him, and her head fell back. Unable to stop himself, he shoved up her shirt, licked her nipple, and then sucked it deep inside his mouth, watching her.



Summer’s face flushed, her lids lowered, and her lips parted. He had never seen such a beautiful sight. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, teasing the tops of his hands. The silky strands caressed his face.



“Soft, so soft,” he murmured.



He sucked harder, used his teeth, and then did the same to the other one, more than satisfied when she ordered him to do it again. Then he grabbed her waist and shoved up, sending his cock in direct contact with her heat. He wanted her. He wanted inside her. He wanted to take her and take her, and never let her go. He wanted to be the last man she ever kissed—the last man she ever made love to.



Quite simply, he loved Summer Holland and would always love her.



“Gabriel,” she cried, and he went over the edge with her.



Summer stopped rocking, unable to comprehend what they’d just done. Unable to believe what he allowed her to do to him.



Her own orgasm had been hard and fast, twisting up her body until it had finally let her go while his…Oh, God.



Reality had returned, and she wanted to die.



Gabriel blinked up at her, his dark blue eyes still glazed over, but when they cleared, he was going to be pissed at her. He was going to say to hell with her plans, and go on about his way. She’d practically had sex with him, on a couch, in front of the windows where anyone could have walked by, and they sure as heck weren’t married, much less engaged.



What would people think of him, if they were caught?



Sure, it was almost eleven now, and the streets were deserted, but it would be just her luck that some busybody would see them. She could stand gossip about herself, but the man who held her—never.



“I’m sorry.” His gaze lowered, as did hers, right to the wet spot on his pants. “I’m sorry,” he said again, and her gaze flicked up to his face. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”



She watched his cheeks grow red. “I’ll get you a towel,” she said lamely.



“I need a shower, and possibly your washer and dryer,” he said with a chuckle.



For some reason, his laugh made her want to cry. Why was he making a joke? She shoved away from him, but he caught both of her wrists in his hands.



“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t run off like you’re ashamed of what happened.”



“I am ashamed.”



He shook his head. “I lost control, not you. I made the choice.”



“But you were waiting, and I…”



He gave her a lopsided smile, the dimple in his left cheek making her heart flip. He let go of one wrist and brushed back the hair at her brow. “I’m still waiting. Tonight proves one thing, though.”



She licked her lips. “What’s that?”



“We’re getting married as soon as the ink dries on the marriage license.”



Summer could only nod her agreement.



“Now, about that towel?”



“Yes, of course,” she said, but she still hadn’t moved.