Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“I don’t think the cop scene last night was very good practice.”
I laugh. “Not one bit…So, let’s pretend Aunt Tilly just asked how we met again.”
But Gabe doesn’t take the bait. He eats a few olives with a thoughtful frown. “Actually, I don’t want to practice for the party right now.”
I sit up straighter. “Oh. Why?” My radar beeps in a gentle warning.
“About last night…”
Does he regret the role play? I ask warily, “What about it?”
“It was incredible—like I told you then. Like I told you again this morning.” He’s emphatic and reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “And I keep thinking about why. Why I liked it so much. Besides the obvious.”
“That it was hot?” I ask.
“Yes. Besides that,” he says, his tone still serious. “And I started thinking about that first night we went out.” He draws what sounds like a steadying breath. “I was planning to leave you when we got to your house.”
I flinch. Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t told him my feelings. “You were?”
“I was trying to exit gracefully,” he admits, and I’m not sure I like where this is going. “I was sure if you knew I liked it rough, you’d throw a shoe at me.”
My worry slinks away, replaced only by concern. I wish he hadn’t felt that way, even for a brief while. “Why would you think that?”
He swallows and glances away like maybe he’s embarrassed. “My ex did,” he mutters. “And I thought if you knew what I wanted to do to you, that you might chuck your helmet and scooter at me.”
“Oh Gabe,” I say gently, feeling terrible that he thought that even for a few hours. “No, of course not. But what happened with her?”
He’s quiet for several long seconds. Then he answers heavily. “I asked to spank her, and she just freaked out. That’s why we split. I mean, it’s for the best. At first, I thought we were a good fit. It’s not like the bedroom issue was some deal breaker for me when I started seeing her. But over time, she started questioning me and accusing me of being interested in other women.”
I snort. I literally snort. “You’re pretty single-minded, as far as I can tell.”
He kisses my cheek like my compliment means everything to him. “Damn right, I am.” He sighs and goes back to his story. “But it just told me we didn’t have a lot of trust. I guess I thought we could build it in the bedroom. But when I asked, she lost her shit and went off on me loud enough to let my neighbors know she thought I was a pervert. I felt stupid, and honestly, kind of awful,” he says, wincing. He’s still feeling the sting of that indignity she’d dealt him?
I run my hand through his hair, comforting him. “I hate that you felt that way,” I say.
“Thanks. I even got her handcuffs as a gift, thinking it could help.” He gives a humorless laugh.
I linger on what he just told me about handcuffs, then on his text messages earlier about how it was an ultimate fantasy for him. I get it now. Last night was a big deal for him.
“And just so you know, I bought the ones from last night just for you,” he says, and the self-mocking tone has vanished. There’s a fierceness in its place. “I’d never use secondhand cuffs on you.”
I smile softly, then he continues.
“Anyway, when we split up, Brittany’s sister came to get her things, and she shoved the cuffs at me like they were diseased. Like I was a freak.”
My heart squeezes. “Sex is so much more than bodies tangled together. It’s about our hearts, and our minds too.”
His sigh sounds relieved. “Yeah. It is, Ellie.”
“It’s about desire and freedom and need,” I say, unable to let it go.
“Yes.” He nods in strenuous agreement. “You’re saying exactly what I’m feeling. But see, when I met you again, I thought if you knew how I liked to fuck, you’d rip me to shreds.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry she made you feel that way. I like everything about the way you touch me. Actually, I love the way you touch me.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I love touching you. I’m glad you told me how you like it. You’re a fucking dream, Ellie,” he says, that rough and smoky tone returning to his voice.
I pull away so I can meet his eyes. “I’m glad I told you too. And thank you for being honest with me.”
And finally, I know.
I know what the be vulnerable challenge means to me.
Being real doesn’t mean I have to say I like you.
It’s obvious we like each other. There’s something deeper at play with Gabe. Something that matters more.