She pulled off her shirt and threw it at him, and he gave up.
He hadn’t noticed her slip. Relief and his deep kiss rekindled the dizzy sake warmth that had fled in the face of her carelessness, and she felt like she was melting as he scooted her farther onto the bed and lay over her, still half-clothed. His hands stroked everywhere, strong and gentle, and somehow she was naked while he still wore his jeans.
“You are so beautiful, Gabe. I could look at you for the rest of my life.”
She groaned, his lips and fingertips lulling her skin even as they coaxed her heart to beat faster. He always knew just where to touch, just how much pressure. A flick of his tongue, and heat flared through her. A trace of his hand, and she whimpered with need. He didn’t even have to enter her to throw her over the edge, though the mere thought of him inside her brought about a need so great it clenched her stomach.
“Jack, please…”
But he took his time, tasting until she trembled, caressing until she cried out, murmuring wordless nothings until his rumbling tone turned her spine into mush and she could do nothing but arch against him in a silent plea. Finally, oh finally, he kicked off the rest of his clothes and lay against her, his heat against hers, his breath coming in warm gasps, his heart thundering almost as quickly as her own.
He paused and gazed down at her, his deep green eyes glowing with something she couldn’t bear to look at. Suddenly afraid even as her body yearned for him, she leaned up and kissed him so she could close her eyes. So he would close his.
Even his first thrust was slow and gentle, as if he savored every inch gained. She shuddered against him, wanting him to lose all restraint and thrust mindlessly, but guiltily unwilling to demand more. She didn’t really want a good screw. She wanted exactly what she’d so foolishly asked for. She wanted to make love.
His body flexed, drawing him out as achingly slowly as he had entered. Her hands tightened on his back, and she let herself love the shift of muscle, the satin of his skin, the perfect glide as he again thrust to his full length. Her back arched, and she moaned deep in her throat even as he groaned against her neck. Another almost lazy thrust, except there was nothing dilatory about the tremble of his body against hers or the incredible sensation as he pressed in farther still and held there. Pleasure that was almost pain burned through her, tearing a breathless gasp from her, and then he drew away only to do it again.
The world receded until only sweat and pleasure and this man remained. His thrusts gradually sped, though he seemed to take equal care in touching that same dangerous place inside her and holding until she shuddered with each pass. She couldn’t bear it. The precipice loomed closer with every patient stroke, a great void into which she wanted to fall, needed to fall, but she didn’t want to go alone. Not this time.
He murmured against her ear, against her lips, against the pulse throbbing frantically in her throat. She clutched him close, her legs around his waist and her fingers nearly clawing at his back. Her mouth sought his, and she sucked on his tongue, desperate not to leave him behind. He groaned and thrust harder, if not faster, and she cried out, throwing back her head.
“Jack! Please!”
Shuddering, he lost a bit of his restraint and shifted his grip on her to speed up. She felt the tension coiling in him and the answering rise in herself and rejoiced in it. This was what she wanted, what she had always wanted. Jack. The man she loved against all odds. The man she loved more than anything.
“God, Gabe, I love you…”
For a blissful moment, the words didn’t register. They were so near her own thoughts that it took her a second to grasp them.
I love you…
She froze, pain stabbing through her chest like an ice pick in her heart and sobering her in an instant. He paused mid-thrust, his body locking up as his wide eyes met hers. His face paled.
Swallowing hard, she blinked. “You what?”
His mouth worked silently for a moment before hesitant words finally fell out. “I…I didn’t mean…”
“You didn’t mean it?” She felt feverish, sweaty and chilled at the same time. “Good. Tell me you didn’t mean it.”
He flinched. “I didn’t mean to say it.”
Her eyes winced shut. “You can’t mean it.”
“Gabe…”
But she didn’t want to hear anymore. Another, more dangerous precipice loomed close at hand, and she squirmed under him, trying to get away. He tried to hold onto her, but sudden fury welled up in the icy void that had replaced passion, and she shoved him away until he pulled out and knelt between her knees. Scrambling and cursing, she stumbled off the edge of the bed with a sheet draped over her pertinent parts and leaned on the wall for support.
“Gabe, what—”
“Get out.”
He scooted off the bed and practically ran to her. She cringed back against the wall and hated herself for it. He would never hurt her. Physically, at least. The pain he had already inflicted was somehow worse.
“We need to talk about—”
“I said get out.”
He stood a few feet away, one hand out as if to soothe her, his face pale and dismayed and…and hurt. She closed her eyes and swallowed.
“It would never work. You have to leave now.”
“Gabe—”
“Please.”
She felt him step nearer, her nerve endings screaming with his proximity, so she pressed her cheek to the wall and clutched the sheet tighter. For a long, breathless moment, she thought he would reach out to her, take her in his arms, convince her everything would be all right. For a moment, she wished he would.
“Fine.”
Her eyes flew open, but he’d already turned away. She watched, mute, as he shoved clothes into his duffle bag with hard, angry jabs. As he pulled on his jeans without bothering with his boxers and his boots without socks. As he cast a furious glare around the room to see if he’d missed anything. As he sketched her a mocking bow and headed down the stairs. She listened as he stomped across the living room floor, then winced when he slammed the door behind him.
She never cried. Mike had told her several times that she hadn’t cried when their parents abandoned them. She knew she hadn’t cried when she found poor Aunt Tab dead. She hadn’t cried when her sister-mother married and became Mike Parker instead of the Mike Turner she knew and loved and needed.
But when she heard Jack’s SUV rev out of her driveway and squeal away into the night, she simply couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They spilled out in a scalding flood, her sobs nearly convulsive in their violence. Her knees buckled and she slid down the wall, wrapped her arms around her knees, and tried to hold herself together while the world fell apart.
Mike dropped the groceries onto the counter with a groan. She’d never figured out why she couldn’t make three trips like everyone else instead of loading herself up too much so she only had to make one. Her fingers throbbed, and she rubbed them to flesh out the creases left by the plastic bag handles digging into her skin.
Before she could completely work feeling back into her abused appendages, the phone rang. She reached for her cell, but it lay quiet in her pocket. Who would call the land line? Her mother-hen mind immediately counted her chicks. Lily and Ivy were at day camp, and Darren was at work. Had there been an accident?
She ran to the phone and snatched it up. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Parker?”
“Yes?”
“This is Phil, one of Gabe’s friends.”
Her hand gripped the receiver. “Is she all right? Where is she?”
“She’s fine.” The man cleared his throat. He didn’t sound like anything was fine. “Well, actually, she’s not. I’m…a little worried about her.”
She wanted to shout for him to just spit it out, but she couldn’t seem to find the words. “Phil? I remember Gabe talking about you. The best friend.”
A soft chuckle put her somewhat at ease. “I like to think so, yeah. Look, Mrs. Parker—�
��
“Call me Mike, and please tell me what’s wrong.”
“Mike, then.” He cleared his throat again. “Well, I don’t know how much you know about the company Gabe’s been keeping…”
“Jack?” Her nebulous worry focused. “What happened?”
He heaved a sigh—of relief or of dismay, she couldn’t tell. “Apparently, they had some sort of blow-up, and she ordered him out. She won’t even take his calls. And she’s doing that thing.”
Her eyes closed and her head bowed. She knew exactly what “thing” he meant. “What was the fight about?”
“I don’t know. She just says it’s over and she doesn’t want to talk about it. But Mrs.—Mike, she’s really down this time. She won’t go out anywhere with us, and she just kind of sits there at work. To be honest, she looks like someone died.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“About a week.”
“A week?”
Some of her anger must have come through in her voice, because he cleared his throat yet again. “I…kinda thought it would go away. She’s never been this sick over a guy before. Hell, she damn sure wasn’t like this when she dumped Eric.”
The last boyfriend. This was serious. “Look, try to get her talking. It won’t work, but I don’t want her pulling away completely because she thinks all sorts of things when she’s left to her own devices. I’ll…”
What? What could she possibly do? Just when she thought things might really work out for her lonely, awkward little sister, something always came up. What could she do to fix this? Should she do anything at all?
Inspiration struck. “I’ll call Jack and see what I can get out of him.”
“Good. I’ll try to make some headway with Gabe.”
“Keep me informed. And Phil?”
“Yeah?”
Despite her need to do something, anything, she couldn’t help but ask. “How did you get this number?”
“Gabe.”
“No, I mean the land line. No one uses my land line but…well, no one, really.”
He snorted. “I don’t like cell phones. Plus, if you’re anything like your sister, I refuse to be responsible for whatever song you’ve picked as your ring tone.”
She laughed, surprised she had one in her while worry ate at her. “She still has that kung fu fighting thing?”
“Would she ever change it?”
The laughter faded. “I hope not.”
“Me, too. If you find out anything before I do—”
“I’ll call. Ditto for you?”
“Ditto for me.”
She hung up and dug her cell back out of her pocket. Growing anger made her movements jerky, and she skipped past Jack’s number twice before managing to get the correct one. What had he done? Didn’t he know that beneath her hard exterior, Gabe was a scared and lonely little girl? Had her impression of him been so far off?
After three rings, she scowled and mentally prepared to leave a scathing message, but he finally picked up.
“What?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I think that’s my question, buddy. Explain yourself.”
“Oh, so she’ll call you, but she won’t even answer the phone for me?”
“What are you talking about? Phil called me and told me Gabe is a walking corpse thanks to you. I thought I could trust you with her, Jack, so like I said: explain yourself.”
Some of his bluster must have gone out, because his voice was soft when he spoke again. “A walking corpse? Damn.”
“Tell me. Now.”
He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what happened. I thought everything was perfect. I was trying to think of a way to tell her everything, and I really thought it would work out. She…seemed to like pretending to be my girlfriend. It was like a game.” He paused for so long that she tried to think of something to say to fill the gap. “But I guess it was a game, because when I told her I loved her, she locked up and kicked me out.”
She nearly dropped the phone. “You what?”
His laugh held a sharp edge of bitterness. “Yeah. I know. Trust me, I know. Hell, I thought she was too drunk to notice.”
“You got her drunk?”
He grunted. “Stick to the point. I don’t know what happened. Everything was going so damn well. She asked me to make love to her.” He cut himself off, and she could picture his blush. “Er…sorry. But she’d never asked for that before. She always wanted it so impersonal, you know? So I thought—”
She put a hand to her forehead and tried to rub away the impending headache. “Jack…”
“Yeah, I know.”
They both fell silent, and she wished she was still angry so she’d know what to do. But he hadn’t really done anything wrong. He’d just…miscalculated. Was it really over? She had so hoped—
“What will you do?”
Another bitter laugh. “She won’t pick up the phone. What the hell am I supposed to do? Charge down there and demand that she see me? You know her. She wouldn’t even bother slamming the door in my face. I fucked up.”
She really wished she was still mad at him. “It’s not over yet. It can’t be. She’s torn up over it, so she must feel something for you. You have to know that.”
“But what does it matter? She…I can’t…she just won’t.”
“Do you still want her?”
“Damn it, if I thought she’d do anything but kill me for it, I’d marry her.”
Her eyes widened. She’d had no idea he’d thought that far ahead. He really was serious.
“If it weren’t for her, I’d have never gotten out of the business. Never tried to finish my degree and get a real job. I’d probably have never talked to my dad again. She’s everything I ever wanted and she doesn’t even care.”
She heard something crash in the background and winced. She hoped he hadn’t broken anything important. “Calm down a minute. It’s pretty damn obvious she does care. She wouldn’t be pulling in like Phil says if she didn’t. But she’s scared of you now, too.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You did everything.” She sighed. “She had this nice, safe little situation where commitment wasn’t a possibility, and you blew it all to hell when you told her you loved her. She has to catch up, and it’ll probably take her a while because she’s so averse to commitment. You knew that going in.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t help. What the hell am I supposed to do? Wait around forever? What if she never comes around? I ought to do what I wanted to before I ever got involved with her.”
She frowned. “And what’s that?”
“Move to California.”
Her breath left her, and she sat down on the end table by the land line phone. “Jack…”
He sighed, and when he spoke again, he sounded exhausted. “No, I’m not really considering it, but it almost sounds like a good idea.”
She forced levity. “With your luck, whatever sounds like a good idea is probably a really bad one.”
To her surprise, he laughed a little. “Harsh.”
“But true?”
“Maybe so.”
She shook her head. “Don’t do anything rash. I’ll come up with something. Just…sit tight for a while, okay?”
“Don’t worry. I’m enrolled here at the university for the fall semester. And I don’t really want to leave. I just want her to fall madly in love with me. Is that so much to ask?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
He snorted. “Go fix your sister. And call me when she’s willing to talk.”
She hung up and stared down at the phone. Go fix your sister, indeed. And just how the hell was she supposed to do that?
Something toppled over with a clunk and a rustle of plastic bags, and she sighed. The groceries needed to be put away. The girls would be home in an hour or two. Darren would be home shortly after that. What could she do in an hour?
The short answer was nothing. She could call Gabe, but would it do any good? Would
her stubborn sister even mention what was wrong? If they could talk face to face, Mike might actually be able to help, but…
Her eyes narrowed, and she left the eggs on the counter to attack the calendar. Darren worked the coming weekend, but he had the next one off. He could watch the girls. He wouldn’t mind. He’d always considered Gabe his own little sister and wouldn’t want her to be so lost.
It might work. That is, if everything didn’t go farther to hell in a week.
Chapter Twelve
When Things Go Wrong
August
Everyone knew something was wrong, but Gabe refused to enlighten them as to what. Cheryl probably had a good idea, but even she couldn’t know exactly. Sadly, Gabe wasn’t sure she knew herself.
All she knew was that the cut had to be clean. She couldn’t answer his calls. She couldn’t encourage him, let him think she might be swayed. She couldn’t let herself think it, either. The entire, ill-conceived fling was over, and the sooner everyone accepted it, the sooner she could feel alive again.
Her phone rang, and she winced. It was her land line, so it was Phil. He would probably congratulate her on her good sense. And it was good sense. Her mind knew it, even if her heart was still being stupid.
She shoved out of the couch’s cushy embrace and dragged her feet over to the phone. “Yeah?”
“We’re going to dinner. I’ll pick you up in half an hour. I will accept no excuses.” And he hung up.
Staring down at the dead receiver in her hand, she wondered what on earth that was all about. She didn’t feel like going to dinner. He’d probably take her to Sullivan’s, and she certainly wasn’t up to those kinds of good vibes. The very thought gave her a headache. Maybe she could hide when he showed up.
Despite the pall of oblivion that had protected her thus far, she snorted at the thought of cowering in her loft while Phil pounded on the door. As if her best friend didn’t know where the spare key was.
But she didn’t have to go. He couldn’t make her.
She didn’t even bother with the theatrics of refusing to answer the door when he knocked. “I’m not up to it, but thanks for asking.”
My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute Page 22