He’d been a perfect gentleman the entire day—coming to her rescue when he’d thought she was in danger, listening patiently and holding her for hours while she grieved her family, whisking her away to the fair to relieve some of her sorrow and bring a little happiness to her heavy heart. The most he’d done was kiss her hand a few times.
And it was driving her crazy. The time for being sweet and gentlemanly was over. She wanted him. Desperately and dangerously. The realization socked her so hard in the gut, her breath caught in her chest. She’d been fighting the sexual tension, not willing to let her heart get broken again. But Gabe was no longer the boy he’d been when he’d unknowingly trampled a teenage girl’s fragile heart. He was a man—and a far kinder, more caring one than she’d allowed herself to see before now.
She wanted to feel those amazing lips on hers, wanted his hands on her skin, wanted to feel him inside her.
But she knew there was no way he was going to make the first move this time. Not after the horrible and hurtful things she’d said to him the last time he’d tried. If she could take back her words, she would, but as her Aunt Charlotte always said, that horse was out of the barn. She’d have to eat a little humble pie and make the first move.
Elle cleared her throat. “So…” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, “aside from the appearance of the son of a homicidal separatist and me nearly yakking on the Ferris wheel, not bad, as far as first dates go.”
He peered down at her from out of the corner of his eye, lifting a single brow, and gave her one of his cockeyed grins. “Was this a date then?”
She felt her cheeks growing warm and would’ve edged away from him to put a little respectable distance between them had he not released her hand to drape an arm around her shoulders and pull her closer against him.
Emboldened, she slid her arm around his waist and forced her tone to be casual and lighthearted when she replied, “I think this qualifies.”
“Well then, Ms. McCoy,” he said, “I should probably get you home before we break curfew.”
She laughed. “I can’t imagine a little thing like a curfew ever mattered to you in the least, Dawson.”
He lifted both brows at her this time. “Oh yeah? I’ll have you know I made it a point to always get my dates home no later than five minutes before their curfews.” He shrugged, qualifying his accomplishment a bit as he added, “That made it a lot easier to convince the parents to let me hang out with their daughters after they’d gone to bed…”
Elle shook her head on a sigh, trying to keep her mind from wandering to what might happen once he got her home. “Do you ever not get what you want, Dawson?”
“That remains to be seen.” He turned his eyes down to her, giving her a look so heavy with meaning Elle’s pulse kicked into high gear.
The fact that he hadn’t answered her question with his trademark arrogance told her he was still keeping his distance, waiting for her to give the green light. As they approached his Charger, her heart hammered in her chest.
C’mon, Elle, c’mon. Make a move. This isn’t high school… You know he wants you. Show him you want him, too.
Gabe opened the door for her and turned to hand her in, but instead of sliding into the passenger seat, Elle impulsively threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. She felt his initial surprise in the hard line of his mouth, but it lasted only a split second before his arms came around her, pulling her into the curve of his body so tightly that she was pulled up onto her toes.
She teased his mouth with the tip of her tongue. His lips parted on a groan and his tongue plunged deep, stroking hers with rhythmic insistence. The kiss was savage, hungry. His hands slid down, gripping her bottom and pressing her against him. She ground her hips against his, another moan of need escaping her before she could check it.
He abruptly broke their kiss. “Jesus, Elle,” he practically growled. “You’re killin’ me here.”
Holding his gaze, she slid her hand between them, over the rock-hard bulge beneath his zipper. “Then we’d better get home. Now.”
His eyes snapped shut and he shuddered, cursing a blue streak. “Get in.”
It wasn’t a request.
Without a word, she hopped into the car, not entirely surprised when he seemed to make it around to the drivers’ side within seconds. His lips were pressed together in a harsh line as he started up the car and threw it into reverse.
Elle watched him intently as they drove. He kept his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. “Gabe? Is everything alright?”
When the grim line of his mouth turned down in a frown and he remained silent, she reached over and placed her hand on his thigh. He flinched at her touch and she saw him swallow hard.
“Gabe?” she prompted. “Are you okay?”
*
Was he okay? Was he okay?