Page 30 of Blue Collar Hotties

“Not sure?” Gabe’s frowning now, like he’s pissed off—but not with me. With the world at large. “You think I’m not sure about you?”

Well. Yeah.

Fiddling with my coat sleeves, I squint over Gabe’s shoulder at the early morning commuters hurrying past on the sidewalk. There aren’t that many of them, and they’re too far away to hear us talking, but still…

Will I ever be alone with this man? Truly alone, and in the same room? Seems like an impossible dream.

“It’s not a criticism,” I say carefully, picking my words, because it’s totally fine that Gabe’s not head-over-heels yet like I am. He barely knows me. “I just mean that—”

“You’re wrong.” Gabe steps closer and takes both my wrists in his hands. He places them firmly on his chest, like he’s planting a tiny flag with my face on it. “I’m sure about you, Lenore. Dead sure.”

He is? “You are?”

“Yes. And seeing you tease me like that on Friday night was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t doubt that, baby. The only thing I didn’t like—theonlything—was seeing you run away from me afterward all upset.”

Is he real? I stare at this man, the early morning sunshine shining gold in his hair. As he speaks, his plush mouth draws my eye.

“Please don’t do that again, okay? Don’t run away from me, Lenore. I can’t bear it. Spent the whole weekend wanting to slam my head against a wall.”

My breathy laugh is snatched away by the wind. Gabe sags with relief, the gaunt look on his face fading away.

Already he looks healthier again. Happy and smiling; less tired. A broad-shouldered Adonis in worn jeans and tan boots, staring down at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen.

“So, will you give me your number?”

His question makes fireworks explode in my tummy. I nod and fumble Gabe’s phone when he passes it to me, already unlocked. It’s an older model, scratched and battered, and thethought flickers across my brain that no man my family picked out for me would ever have this phone. My Hattworth-approved suitors always have the latest iPhone, without a single scratch on it.

Just shows that the Hattworths don’t know shit. There are more important things in life than money and power—like the way Gabe grins at me when I send myself a text from his phone. It’s like the sun coming out six inches from my face. I’m warm down to my toes in their thick wool tights.

“Anyone here yet?” Gabe nods over my shoulder at the office building. I unlocked the front door, but that’s all. No one else home.

“Nope.”

“Good.” With a quick glance over his shoulder at the thin crowds on the sidewalk, Gabe turns back around and cups the sides of my neck.

His fingers are cold. Shivers race down my spine, but the shock of cold isn’t the only reason why. It’s the hungry look on his face, the possessive glint in his eye, and the desperate way he kisses me square on the mouth.

My head tips back, bowed by the force of his kiss, and heat sears through my veins. There’s a heavy throbbing low in my belly, and I grip his shirt and give as good as I get.

Lips. Teeth. Tongue.

Gabe holds nothing back. Not the pleased rumble in his chest when I kiss him back, nor the hard ridge pressing against my belly. He kisses me until my head spins, hot and hard and endless, and when we break apart panting, he grins.

I blink, unsteady on my feet.

The whole world looks brand new. The sun is brighter; the sky pinker than before. Even the frosty wind smells clean and fresh, like peppermint.

“Think about that kiss next time you doubt me, Lenore.” Gabe presses the pad of his thumb against my bottom lip, sliding it gently inside my mouth. He grunts when I suck, tongue swirling around his thick knuckle, and when he draws it back out, he swipes wetness over both my lips. “Think how goddamn starving I am for you. How I’d do anything to get my hands on you again.”

Hands. Mouth. I wantallof him, and I want more than stolen moments next time.

“Text me,” I say. “Prove it.”

Gabe’s smile is full apex predator. “I will. Keep your phone close, baby.”

Gabe

We don’t allow phones up on the scaffolding. Nothing that could slip out of someone’s pocket and hit a passerby on the ground; nothing to add more risk than necessary. So I’m not glued to my phone the way I want to be, texting Lenore every ten seconds, but I get to know her a little on my breaks. My thumbs cramp from texting her so much during those minutes, trying to cram time with Lenore into every possible second.

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