Page 38 of Touched By Destiny

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asked, concern alight in his vibrant green gaze.

“Am I the only one feeling awkward right now?”

“No, we’re new to this; it’s bound to feel strange.”

“It’s weird to know someone your entire life and suddenly not know how to greet them.”

Gabriel took a step closer to him. Like Eric, his feet were naked. “Go with your first instinct.”

Lips curving again, Eric closed the distance between them. He sank a hand into Gabriel’s hair, and their mouths met. Gabriel’s palms landed on Eric’s hips, but he didn’t embrace him. Their tongues met without urgency, and Eric relaxed into the lazy caress. Unlike during their previous kisses, he savored Gabriel’s enticing taste and filled his senses with his musky scent without feeling an immediate desire to strip off his underwear.

Desire was there, but sweetness tempered it. Eric sighed as a wave of happiness bubbled through him. As much as Eric had loved those frantic encounters in the hotel room, he wanted to know if they could be more than two sweaty bodies seeking fulfillment.

“What’s that sigh for?” Gabriel asked huskily, nibbling along Eric’s jaw to the tender skin of his earlobe.

Unwilling to lay the raptures of his needy heart upon Gabriel’s shoulders so soon in their relationship, Eric chose a different truth to confess. “You’re a great kisser.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Eric chuckled and pulled away so he didn’t give in to the urge to cling to Gabriel the entire night. They had a friendship to build. Although Eric had known Gabriel forever, their chats while he worked or at meals weren’t the same as laying a foundation for being soulmates.

“I doubt that,” Eric replied. “I haven’t had much practice.”

“You’ve kissed more than one pretty boy.”

“And how many pretty boys are in your past?”

Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly and stole the bag of cookies from Eric’s grasp. “A gentleman doesn’t count.”

With a roll of his eyes, Eric rose to brush his lips against Gabriel’s, then surveyed his surroundings. It was the first time he’d been at Gabriel’s house, and he was shocked to find it completely devoid of personality. In fact, there was little in it, and everything was white or beige.

The walls lacked art or any other décor. A long couch was anchored in the living area and faced a large-screen television. On one end of the sofa was a single end table with an unremarkable lamp perched on it. No rug covered the white tiles that flowed throughout the open space.

At the kitchen island there was a single bar stool, and the smooth countertops were bare except for a coffee maker tucked next to the stainless-steel fridge. If Eric didn’t know Gabriel lived there, he would’ve assumed the place was unoccupied.

Since his mother insisted on kindness and using his manners, Eric wracked his brain for some compliment to give Gabriel about his home.

“Your place is nice,” Eric finally commented.

“I swear Rosalind makes the builder increase the size of my house each time we move,” Gabriel said, his gaze sweeping across the nondescript great room.

“I hate moving. Mom follows me around for weeks with fabric swatches and paint samples. Then she gets frustrated because I pick blue shit every time. Richard goes for black just as often, but he enjoys going through the decorating process with her, so she doesn’t complain. Moving would be less stressful if she’d just pick what she wants instead of bothering me with it.”

“Why don’t you tell her that?”

Eric walked around, searching for something that screamed Gabriel, and found nothing. No shoes by the door. There wasn’t even a stray coffee mug set on the counter. The couch was so pristine it looked like no butt had ever graced its cushions.

“I did,” Eric replied. “I was scolded for lacking any interest. After all, it’s my room, and she doesn’t want to create something I don’t like. I can’t make her understand that I’m not picky. I used to fight like that with Richard. He’d try to help me shop for clothes. I seriously don’t care what I have on. As soon as he figured that out, he just picked things out.”

“Like your thongs.”

“I don’t know why he thinks I care if there’s a line on my ass from briefs or boxers.”

“I enjoy staring at your ass, and I doubt my brain has ever registered a line marring my view.”

“I’d fight harder, but honestly…the thongs make me feel sexy.”

“Okay, subject change, or we’re going to mess up my plan of taking things slow,” Gabriel warned.

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