He tightened his grip on her as he lifted his gaze to meet her. His eyes—those beautiful bright green eyes that always made her feel as though she’d come home—made her want to do far more than hold hands.
His mouth crooked in a smile. “Then I met you. And everything changed.”
The air rushed out of her lungs as she gripped his hand with all her might. She felt as if she might fall out of her chair otherwise.
This...this was being seduced. His words took all of her worries and pushed them right out of her head. Who cared about old girlfriends or injured brothers? She didn’t.
She cared for Chance.
“I know we can’t keep doing this forever,” he went on, dropping his gaze back to where their hands were connected. He turned her hand over and started rubbing his thumb over her wrist, sending delicious shivers up her back. “I know it’ll come to an end and you’ll be in Mexico and I’ll be in Texas. But that doesn’t mean we have to let this die on the vine.”
She wasn’t sure what “die on the vine” meant, but she was very sure she didn’t care. “What are you saying?”
“My life is here. That land has been in my family for over a hundred years and I can’t walk away from that. But I don’t want to let you go, Gabriella. If you want me to, I’ll come see you. We have slow times where I can get away for a week or two. And you’re always welcome at the ranch.”
She opened her mouth to say something—but the problem was she didn’t know what to say. Not with him speaking words such as these.
Words no man had ever said to her. No man had ever tried to say to her. No man had ever gone out of his way to accommodate her structured lifestyle. That Chance would make the effort was, in and of itself, an impressive act.
Then he swallowed. “What I’m saying is, I’m falling in love with you and I don’t want to let that go when you leave Texas.”
“¡Dios mío!” she heard herself breathe. Did he just say he was in love? With her?
His crooked grin got a little more worried. “Did you mean that in a good way?”
When she still couldn’t come up with a reasonable response, he leaned away from her. But he didn’t let her go. “If you don’t feel the same, I understand. You’ve got a lot to deal with as it is and it’s not my place to make your life more complicated than it already is. No harm, no foul.”
He started to pull his hand away from hers, but she refused to let him. So she was having trouble finding the words. There were other ways to express herself.
That was how she came to be half out of her chair, reaching across the table until she had grabbed Chance’s shirt in her hands and hauled him to her. She crushed her lips to his.
Yes, this—this was exactly what she wanted. The words of love—not words she read in a book or watched two characters say to each other in a telenovela, but words spoken directly to her. About her.
At this precise moment, nothing else mattered. Not Joaquin sitting ten feet away, not the other people dining in the restaurant. She did not care what her brother or her father might say about such a bold action on her behalf.
All she cared about—all she wanted to care about—was Chance falling in love with her.
She was falling in love with Chance.
But the kiss was awkward over the table and only became more so when the waitress arrived with their meals.
Gabriella let go of Chance and sat with a thud in her chair. The two of them stared at each other for a moment as the waitress tried to act as if she hadn’t seen anything unusual at all.
Then Chance turned his attention to the server. “Can we get the food wrapped up to go? Quickly?”
The waitress smirked but said, “Of course,” as she picked up the tray and disappeared into the kitchen.
“You wanna get out of here?”
Gabriella didn’t bother to look at Joaquin. She already knew he would not be happy with this turn of events. For all she knew, she was only hastening the day when Papa would not let her see Chance again with her brazen behavior.
But she would have this night with him, one way or the other.
“Yes,” she said.
And that was final.
Twelve
Somehow they got out of the restaurant and into her SUV. It seemed as though Joaquin was in no hurry to drive them anywhere, but Chance didn’t give a flying damn. They left the big man in the restaurant and hustled to the car. Chance was in the backseat with Gabriella and the windows were tinted. Close enough.
He managed to get the door shut behind them and to set the boxed-up meals down behind the seat before his hands were all over Gabriella.
And, boy, her hands were all over him as she fell back against the seat and pulled him on top of her. She grabbed his backside and pulled him into her, pushing her skirt up. Despite the clothing, he could feel the warm heat of her core. Her hands worked their way up from his butt to his back as she felt his muscles.
Her touch alone was enough to push him right up to the edge of his control. Combine that with the way her legs slid around him? Damn. “I want you so much,” he whispered as he propped himself up on his arms. This had the nice effect of pushing his erection harder against her warmth. “So much.”
“Yes. Me, too. Oh, yes,” she moaned as he pivoted his hips, tested the limits of his pants. “Oh, Chance.”
Hearing her mouth say his name that way—as though he meant everything to her—was all he wanted. Yeah, the sex would be amazing, he didn’t doubt that. But he wanted so much more than that.
Her. That was all.
His tongue swept into her mouth as he managed to balance himself so that he could touch her generous breasts. Nope, no bra—and he’d never been happier. He stroked her through the thin fabric and was rewarded when her nipple went rock-hard.
“Yeah,” he said as her hips bucked against his. “Just like that. God, you’re beautiful, Gabriella. Tell me what you like. Everything you want.”
Her hands stilled against him. Something seemed off as she said, “Chance...” but before she could finish her thought, the driver’s side door opened.
Crap on toast. Joaquin. Chance had been so wrapped up in Gabriella—literally and figuratively—that he’d actually forgotten about the big man. And the fact that they were still in a car.
He sat up so Gabriella could get herself put back together. Joaquin seemed to be doing the same thing—he hadn’t gotten into the vehicle yet.
Shuddering, Gabriella managed to get her skirt rearranged. Then she said, “Joaquin, please take us back to Chance’s house,” in a voice that didn’t sound embarrassed. A little happy, but not embarrassed.
Maybe sneaking around the hired help was something she was used to. If she wasn’t going to act guilty about this, then he wasn’t, either.
He wasn’t sure Joaquin was on board, though. Now that Chance had himself under control—okay, more under control—he could see the big man glaring at him from where he stood outside the door.
“Please,” Gabriella repeated. This time Chance heard a note of desperation in her voice.
“I’m not going to hurt her,” Chance added, unsure if he should be saying anything.
But he didn’t want to sit here in the back of this vehicle in what was, essentially, a Mexican standoff with an actual Mexican. He wanted to get someplace that had a locking door and pillows, and he wanted to get there sooner rather than later.
That wasn’t Joaquin’s idea of a good evening, apparently. The next thing Chance knew, Gabriella had jolted forward and was half draped over the front passenger seat. “This is my choice. I choose to go home with him and I choose to go to bed with him. There is nothing you can do tonight that will stop me. You can either guard me as you have sworn to do or leave me alone and go back to Papa.”
Boy, he loved it whe
n she was fiery—except for that one word: tonight. He didn’t like that word. It begged the question—what could Joaquin do tomorrow to keep Gabriella from him?
“Fine.” She turned to Chance, her eyes flashing with righteous fury. “Get out.”
“What?”
“Your friends in the restaurant—would they give us a ride home?”
Chance’s mouth flopped open. “Uh...”
“Or taxis? Do you have taxis in this town?”
“Sure.” Boy, remind him not to get on Gabriella’s bad side. He wasn’t surprised that Rodrigo lived up to the family name—del Toro was “of the bull”—but for the first time, he truly grasped how bullheaded Gabriella could be.
He was sure she was bluffing—maybe. Either way, he wasn’t about to leave her side. He opened the door and got one leg out before Joaquin spoke.
“I will drive you.” He sounded as if he had a gun jammed in his back. Maybe that’s how he felt.
“To Chance’s home?” Maybe Gabriella was less a bull and more a pit bull, because she wasn’t about to let this go.
“Sí,” the big man sighed wearily, as if the fifteen-mile-drive was a death march.
“Thank you.” Gabriella pulled Chance back into the vehicle and slid her hand down his inner thigh.
And just like that, he didn’t give a damn for what Joaquin might do tomorrow.
The pain of keeping his hands to himself was a new kind of hell, but soon enough the vehicle lurched to a sudden halt. Both of them startled. Chance saw they were at his house. Thank God for that.
He got out of the car, finally. Walking wasn’t going to be the easiest thing he’d ever done, but he’d manage somehow.
Gabriella started to get out with him, but then she stopped. “My shoes...”
“You don’t need them.” He pulled her out and into his arms. “I’ll carry you.”
“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes glazed over with desire. Then she tucked her head against his neck and kissed him there. His knees shook. “If you insist.”
“I do.” He turned toward the door and saw Joaquin standing next to it, looking as pissed as he possibly could. Chance didn’t think issuing orders would go over real well, but he was sick to death of tiptoeing around the big man. “Will you keep an eye on the house? I don’t want anyone to try to barge in on us.” Including Joaquin.
“Please,” Gabriella added.
Joaquin nodded—a swift, curt movement of his head. But he stepped aside.
Finally. Chance took the steps as fast as he could; took the hallway back to his room faster. He couldn’t wait to pick up right where he’d left off in the car—with Gabriella holding on to her composure by the thinnest of threads.
He sat her on the bed, where she peeled off her jacket as he kicked off his shoes. Maybe later there’d be time for nice and slow. But the backseat tonight—hell, the front seat last night—had him primed. And, given the way she grabbed at his belt, she was rarin’ to go, too.
But he didn’t want to go that fast. Yeah, he was hard up—very hard up—but he wasn’t the kind of man who took without giving anything back. So he grabbed her hands and held them away from his groin. “Slow down, woman.”
“I don’t want to slow down.” She tested his grip on her. “I’ve waited for this for so long... I don’t want to wait a moment longer.”
He grinned as he pushed her back on the bed. Then he took the kiss on her lips she had waiting for him as he let his body settle over hers. “I want to do this right, Gabriella. Slow can be just as good as fast.” To emphasize his point, he ground his hips into hers and was rewarded with a low moan of pleasure. “Slow can be better.”
“All right. But I still want to see you.” She pulled her hands free and began working at the buttons on his shirt. “Please.”
“All you had to do was ask.” He sat back and let her get the shirt undone, but then he stood and shucked both the shirt and jacket together before taking care of his pants himself. He couldn’t have her touching him right now, not until he got himself a little more under control.
“Your turn.” He knelt on the bed and lifted her hair away from her neck. Then he undid the tie of her top and let it fall forward.
He expected her to touch him while he did this, but she didn’t. She sat there. Was she trembling? “If you want me to stop...” he offered, trying to sound as sincere as possible. If she’d changed her mind, he’d respect that. Even if it killed him.
“No! I want this. You.” Then she swallowed.
She was nervous, he realized—but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe she’d never had someone as big as him? And if not, should he take that as a compliment?
He leaned back, taking the time to admire her breasts. Even then, he couldn’t help but notice that her gaze was locked onto his erection. “You are so beautiful,” he told her as he cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her face up to his.
Then he stepped back and pulled her to her feet. He unzipped the skirt and let it fall with a swish to the ground. He filled his hands with the creamy skin of her hips—not the stick-thin hips of a woman who starved herself to fit some crazy notion of beauty, but the full, glorious hips of a woman. “So beautiful,” he repeated as he slid his hands underneath her silky panties and slid them off.
Then there was nothing left between them. He pressed his lips against the base of her neck and felt the crazy-fast speed of her pulse. “You okay?” But he asked this as he ran his tongue over her the edge of her earlobe.
“I... It’s...too slow. I want to go faster.”
This pulled him up short. “Why?” Maybe she liked it fast? After all, she’d gone from zero to sixty in about 1.3 seconds last night in his truck.
She looked down at his straining erection and then, with a hesitant hand, reached out and touched him. Just the tip of her finger brushing the tip of his penis. As if she was afraid of it.
As if she’d never done this.
It hit him like a bolt out of the blue. “Gabriella, have you ever been with a man before?”
Before he could process this—she was a virgin?—she took him firmly in hand and stroked. It wasn’t a particularly skilled stroke, but he was already so worked up that it temporarily short-circuited his brain.
“That...that does not matter, does it? You have, haven’t you?”
Hell yes, it mattered. It mattered a lot. He hadn’t been with a virgin since back when he’d been a virgin. Even at seventeen, the sex had been so awkward, so mind-bogglingly bad that his girlfriend had pretty much dumped him and he hadn’t been all that sad to see her go. It was one of his least favorite memories involving the opposite sex. Hell, it was his least favorite one.
He’d gotten better, of course. Practice made perfect and he had a couple of lady friends who’d taught him the finer points of pleasing a female. At thirty-two, he’d gotten quite good.
But still...she was a virgin. At twenty-seven. It boggled his mind.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Being the first was a big responsibility. Bigger, given how long she’d waited.
“No!” Her head shot up, nearly clipping him in the chin. “No. I want this.”
She gracefully fell to her knees. He knew what she was about to do—push him past the point of reason—and he tried to stop it, but the woman was hell-bent on changing his mind for him.
Her hands still trembling, she knelt in front of him. “I understand the process,” she said, her voice flashing between confident and nervous. “I...have been told that it will not hurt because I spend so much time riding.” Then she leaned forward and pressed those beautiful lips to his tip. “Do not deny me this, Chance. Please.”
Then she took him in her mouth and it was all he could do to keep steady. Yeah, he’d say she had a pretty good grasp on “the process,” as she’d put it. She swirled
her tongue around him, one hand on his base, one hand wrapped around his leg for balance.
Had she ever done this—go down on someone? No, he didn’t think so. She was too hesitant and, yes, too awkward to send him over the edge, but he didn’t care. A twenty-seven-year-old virgin.
Anyone but him.
He looked down at Gabriella, doing her level best to seduce him. This was going to be tricky. How could he make it worth it for her—while also making sure she didn’t feel like a failure of a woman for being inexperienced?
“Please,” she said, pausing to catch her breath. She leaned her head against his thigh and traced his length with her fingertips. “Please, Chance. Do not treat me like a china doll that must be locked away. Treat me like a woman. I can see how much you want me.” She stroked him again, making him twitch. “Can’t you see how much I want you?” Then she took him in her mouth again.
Treat her like a woman who raced horses and looked as beautiful in a welder’s apron as she did in a backless top and skirt.
He stroked her hair as she tried to time her hand movements to her mouth at a rate of speed that wasn’t going to do anything but lead to inappropriate chafing. “Slow.” He managed to get the word out through gritted teeth. “Go slow. Let me watch you.”
Then she looked up at him, her eyes wide as her lips encircled him. The look in her eyes—damn. So innocent, so sexual at the same time. Desperate for him, for his approval. It was like a punch to the gut.
And she slowed way, way down. She was licking him like he was an ice cream cone and she was going to devour him one bite at a time.
Oh, yeah—she’d managed to push him past the point of reason. “Yeah,” he groaned as she licked him up and down again. “Just like that—yeah.”
She pulled away and kissed his thigh again. “That was good?”
“That was great.”
She looked up at him, her face beaming with satisfaction. Thank heavens that had been the right thing to say. But when she made a move to go down on him again, he pulled her up. “My turn, beautiful.”
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