Page 3 of Ctrl Me
Easygoing Gabe chuckled and stopped looking so gentle. “You’ll probably default to a bacon cheeseburger. Get the pizza burger, though. It’s more interesting, and you need a change.”
Holy hell. The sense of command in his words. I’d experienced it last from the man who’d caused me to pack up and leave California. I almost stood and fled, but this was myfriend. “Gabe—”
He raised an eyebrow, and my whole body answered with a spine-tingling shudder. Thank God Julie brought our beers.
If Gabe was flirting with me, it had zipped beyond the normal and into another fucking universe.If. I wasn’t sure I wanted Gabe to be flirting. The way he poked at my submissive side, that might be a dream come true or lead to an unmitigated disaster. The last guy? He’d been a nightmare. Sherri was a bigot, sure, but Dominik had been bad enough that I’d moved three thousand miles to forget his particular betrayal.
Julie pulled a pad of paper from her apron. “Do you know what you want?”
“I do,” Gabe said in a voice that sent every single one of my nerves buzzing. He ordered a buffalo chicken sandwich.
“And for you?”
I stared at the menu for a second, skimming over the bacon cheeseburger. Had Gabe made a suggestion or given me a command? If I ordered my usual, I risked Gabe’s displeasure, and that was the last thing I wanted. “Pizza burger. Medium. Fries.” I handed the menu back to Julie and my hand didn’t even shake.Please don’t let this be a mistake.I’d lost Sherri. I couldn’t lose Gabe.
Julie bounded off again, and I hazarded a look up.
Deep-blue eyes met my gaze and for once, Gabe wasn’t smiling. He looked pleased, though. Very pleased. Like a Dominant would.
So much for not getting a hard-on. Warmth spread like fire over my body, even as the little red warning light in the back of my brain blinked on and off. Was Gabe feeling me out? And forwhat? Fuck if I knew. Chances were, it was all in my head. I reached for my beer, andnowmy hand shook.
After a long draw, I set the glass down and met Gabe’s silent stare again. “What’s going on?”
He shrugged. “Date night.” There was that little turn to his lips, the one that took his expression from pleased to the devil incarnate.
Oh.Oh. Not completely my imagination, then.
His laugh didn’t help the swirling in my head. “If I’d known you played for more than one team, I’d have asked you out for a drink months ago.” His amusement fell away. “By the time I figured it out, you were with Sherri.” He toyed with the edge of his glass. “Now you’re not.”
I took a mouthful of Guinness. It wasn’t often—oh hell, it was never—that I was the guy being pursued. Yet here we were, with my heart slamming against my ribs. “When did you . . .?” I gestured vaguely.
“Figure it out?”
I nodded.
“Biking. Lycra doesn’t hide much.” He finally lifted his beer and drank.
No, it didn’t.
I should have asked for water. My mouth was dry, but the beer was already going to my head. Or maybe that was Gabe. I closed my eyes.
“Thomas.”
Couldn’t help the tremble. “Should I start calling you Gabriel?” I opened my eyes.
He coughed a laugh. “No, I prefer Gabe. Gabriel has too many syllables.”
“Too many . . .?”
The look he gave me was one I recognized for a change, the one from work that said,You’ll figure it out, dumbass.
As usual, I had no fucking clue. “So, what now?”
He slid the case to the edge of the table between us and unzipped it. “Darts while we wait. Let’s see if you’re really as hopeless as you think.” He took out six darts, three with blue and silver fins and three with black and silver. He inspected the plastic tips. “Eh, these will do for this.”
He pushed the black-finned darts to me, and I picked one up. They were lighter than I’d expected. Balanced. I’d only ever played with the darts that came with the machine, and those were heavy in comparison. “You’re serious about this.”
He’d gotten up to pull out the darts that were in the board, which he dumped unceremoniously onto a little drink table. “Darts? Yeah. I’m in a league.”
