Page 80 of Gamble
But the way he was looking at her now, with that familiar heat in his gray eyes, suggested otherwise.
“Let me just finish getting these snacks ready,” she said, turning her attention to the platter she’d been assembling. Grapes, various cheeses, crackers, and some of the expensive salami Shane had brought by the day before. “I figured we might get hungry.”
“Always thinking ahead,” Elijah said, moving behind her to peer over her shoulder as he hugged her from behind. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”
The casual way he said ‘love’ made her pulse skip, even though she knew he probably meant it generically. Still, the warmth of his body behind her, the scent of his cologne mixing with his masculine shampoo, made her want to turn in his arms and claim a real kiss. A kiss like they’d shared in Vegas.
Instead, she focused on arranging grapes in a way that definitely didn’t require this much attention. Why was she so nervous?
“I’m hungry,” she said lightly. “All this caregiving works up an appetite.”
“Is that what you’re calling it?” His voice was amused, but there was something else underneath. Something that made her think he might be having the same thoughts she was about how their relationship had shifted over the past week.
Reagan finally turned in the circle of his arms, noting that he didn’t immediately step back. “What would you call it?”
“The best week of my life,” he said simply. The sincerity in his voice made her breath catch.
Before she could respond, he was stepping away, picking up the platter with one hand and offering her his other arm.
“Come on. Let’s go enjoy my backyard properly.”
The evening air was perfect—warm but not oppressive, with a gentle breeze that carried the scent of the orange treesthat provided privacy between Elijah’s yard and his neighbors’. String lights she hadn’t noticed before created a warm glow over the patio area, and the hot tub in the corner did look incredibly inviting.
But it was the aluminum ladder leaning against the side of the house that made Elijah stop short, his entire demeanor shifting.
“What’s wrong?” Reagan asked, following his gaze to the innocuous-looking ladder.
For a moment, Elijah’s jaw worked as if he was trying to find the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion.
“That’s the ladder I fell off. I was up there fixing the string lights, making sure everything was perfect.” He turned to look at her, his eyes intense. “I was getting ready for you to come over that night. I wanted everything to be just right when I brought you back here after dinner.”
Reagan felt her heart clench at the pain in his voice, at the realization of how much that fall had cost him. Not just physically, but emotionally. It had stolen his confidence, his sense of control, his belief that he deserved good things.
Before she could say anything, Elijah set down the platter and pulled her into his arms again. This time the movement was smooth, confident—more like the man she’d met in Vegas than the careful patient she’d been caring for all week.
“Back then I was so looking forward to having you here with me. At my home. In my arms.” He reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face, his touch gentle but sure. “I admit, after the fall I thought that dream would never come true. Yet here you are.”
His thumb traced along her cheekbone, and Reagan felt her pulse spike at the familiar gesture. This was the Elijahshe’d fallen for in Vegas—more confident, commanding, utterly focused on her.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Reagan. Not just because you’ve taken such good care of me, but because you’ve brightened every part of my life by being here this last week.”
The words were simple, but the emotion behind them made Reagan’s chest tight. Before she could respond, Elijah was leaning down, his lips finding hers in the kind of slow, passionate kiss they’d shared in Vegas. Not the careful pecks on the forehead or cheek that had marked their interactions this past week, but a real kiss. A kiss that said he wanted her, not just appreciated her care.
Reagan melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt as weeks of carefully controlled desire broke free. She’d missed this—the taste of him, the way his hands felt in her hair, the solid warmth of his body against hers. For the first time since his surgery, she felt like she was kissing her lover instead of caring for her patient.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Elijah’s eyes were dark with the kind of hunger she remembered from their first weekend together.
“Christ, I’ve missed that,” he said placing kisses down the nape of her neck.
“Me too,” Reagan admitted, surprised by how breathless she sounded. “I was starting to think?—”
“That I didn’t want you anymore?” Elijah’s voice was rough. “Baby, wanting you has never been the problem. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to fake attraction to an invalid.”
“You’re not an invalid,” Reagan protested. “And I would never fake?—”
He silenced her protest with another kiss, this one hungrier, more demanding. His hands roamed down her back, relearning the curves of her body. Reagan felt herself responding with anintensity that surprised her. Her own hands moved to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his T-shirt, reassuring herself that he was real, that for at least tonight, he was hers.
When his hand moved to the hem of her sundress, sliding underneath to trace patterns on her inner thigh, Reagan felt her knees go weak. But along with the desire came a nagging worry.
