Page 71 of Philly
He lifted his hands and set them on the wall on either side of her head. The move startled her, and she looked up. Then caught her breath. His blue eyes seemed almost black now, and they held her with an intensity she’d never felt before but that her body recognized. Her brain, though, that pesky ball of muscle and mush, panicked.
“You’re in my personal space, Gabriel,” she said. He’d taken another step closer and now stood less than a foot in front of her.
“Do you want me to move?” he asked, his gaze fixed on hers.
The vein in her throat pulsed, and she struggled to breathe. A simple question that wasn’t so simple. “Yes” wouldn’t just mean “yes.” “No” wouldn’t just mean “no.” Remnants of the fear she’d felt all those years ago reared its head, and her stomach churned. But so did something else. The thin thread of hope that had appeared and disappeared dozens of times in the past few days began weaving a future—a chance—through her body and soul.
“No,” she whispered.
Gabriel’s chest jerked in a quiet, almost silent inhale. “Good,” he replied, his eyes locked on hers.
“I’m terrified, though,” she admitted in a whisper. She didn’t want to pretend that this meant nothing. She didn’t want to bluff her way through it. She’d done so much of that in her life that here, in this moment, she couldn’t—didn’t want to—be that person. Not with Gabriel. Not anymore.
“Me, too,” he said, that truth shining in his eyes. “Not as terrified as I was when you went running after a hitman on your own, but it’s a close second.”
A tiny smile tugged at her lips but quickly faded. “You don’t hate me anymore.”
His mouth tightened. “I haven’t hated you since that night at my house, Callie. I didn’t forgive you, not that night, but I accepted that we were both kids. Kids in shitty situations who hid it from the world the best we could. How can I blame you for doing what you needed to survive? To saveme?”
“Because I hurt you. Terribly.”
He nodded, his honesty making her feel better than it should. “You did. But I also know you wouldn’t have said the things you said if you’d known about my life, about my fears and hopes and dreams. All things I never shared with you. With anyone. You still would have turned me down. There was too much at risk for you—for me—not to. But you wouldn’t have done it like that.”
She wanted to believe him, but she didn’t have quite the faith he did. She’d been so in love with him and so terrified about what that might mean for him that she didn’t see her sixteen-year-old self doing anythingbutlashing out.
“Callie.” She’d lowered her eyes but raised them now. “You were the girl who stopped Trevor Woodley from picking on Ashley James. You were the girl who stepped into a dogfight to save a puppy. The girl who used her allowance to buy Gina Hadley a prom dress and ticket when she was crowned queen but couldn’t afford to go. You wouldnothave said the things you said if you’d known. You would have found a different way.”
She still wasn’t convinced, but in this, maybe she needed to trust him. “Accepting and forgiving are two different things, Gabriel. I…” She swallowed, then forced herself to bare her soul to him. She owed it to him—to herself. “If we do this, it isn’t adrenaline, it isn’t a convenient thing because there’s only one bed. Not to me. If this means nothing more than those things to you, please don’t do it. After the way I hurt you, I don’t have a right to ask?—”
She cut herself off when his hand left the wall and he trailed his fingers along her cheek, avoiding the tiny nicks and cuts. “You have every right to ask those things, Callie. And so do I. So I’m asking you, Calypso Jane Parks, do you want me to kiss you?”
Her heart pounded and her eyes widened. The only movement between them his fingers brushing her jaw. A yearning for him, for this funny, smart, loyal, kind, and more attractive than he had a right to be man, swelled inside her. The fear still lingered, but desire, and a sense of rightness, quieted it.
“Yes, please,” she said.
“Oh, thank god,” he said before lowering his mouth to hers. The gentle, almost reverent brush of his lips surprised her. He drew back a fraction, then brushed his mouth over hers again, this time lingering, as if testing the path before them. Slowly, he tilted his head and pressed more firmly against her. When his tongue teased her lips, a craving so strong washed through her, wiping away all hesitation.
Angling her head, she opened to him—tasting, teasing, possessing him. The trickle of need grew to a stream as the kiss consumed them, although she sensed they were both holding back. Maybe for fear of what would happen if they each let go, or maybe, just maybe, because this moment was something to savor, to appreciate, to honor.
Their chests rose and fell in rapid sync when he drew back. His hand remained cupping the nape of her neck, the only part of them touching.
Then he licked his lips as his eyes held hers, as if tasting her again, and the dam broke.
Sliding her hands into his hair, she pulled him down into another kiss, this one scorching a path through her entire body. His arms wrapped around her, his hands splaying against her back. She pushed against him, and he got the hint. Walking backward, he tugged her toward the bedroom, keeping her body flush with his.
When the back of his knees finally hit the mattress, he sank down, bringing her with him, her thighs on either side of his. He slipped a hand under her shirt, his palm hot against the skin of her waist, and held her against him as she pressed her core to the bulge in his sweats.
It felt amazing;hefelt amazing. And as the physical pleasure built, something else took flight inside her. Her guilt.
She loved this man. Had always loved him, even when she hadn’t known how. But she had a chance now. A chance to love him the way she wanted, the way he deserved. If she forgave herself. If she let her past and her mistakes go. Not forget them, but accept them as lessons to learn from and move on. It wouldn’t always be as easy as it felt now, but in this moment, she let it all go—her guilt, her self-loathing, her fear—and gave everything to a future she’d glimpsed before but was only now believing could be real.
Withdrawing her hand from his hair, she reached over and shut off the bedside light, plunging them into darkness.
“Callie?” Gabriel whispered, pulling back.
She traced his cheekbone with her fingertips, imprinting the shape and texture of his face deep inside her.
“I already know you’re a beautiful man to look at, Gabriel, and tonight I want to feel. I want to memorize the lines of your body with my hands, I want to hear the sounds you make when I touch you, I want to taste and explore you without distraction. I want tofeeleverything.”
