Page 59 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

And all I wanted to do was grab Gabriel’s hand, run down the street and up five flights of stairs to my place where we could rip each other’s clothes off.

My seduction game wasn’t that strong though, so I cut right to the chase. “Do you want to come home with me or not?”

He pulled back, his eyes narrowing on me like I was trying to trick him. “What about Annika?”

“We’re good now. She moved to Paris last month.”

“Whoa. Annika moved to Paris?” He took a step back and gave me a perplexed look. “You waited a month?”

I stepped closer and put my hands on his chest. “I would have come sooner but I wanted to make sure I was ready for this…” I slid my hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck, because I could. “Ready for you.”

He was quiet for a moment then unwrapped my hands from around his neck and held them. His teeth skimmed over his bottom lip, dark eyes searching mine. “What does that mean, Cleo?”

I cleared my throat and looked down the street toward the park. “It just means I…you know…”

“Stop being a chicken.” He squeezed my hands. “Say what you mean and mean what you say.”

I opened my mouth to speak then closed it again. A lump had formed in my throat and my heart was pounding so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it.

This moment was both terrifying and exhilarating. It was my chance to take fate into my own hands and choose him. All or nothing, win or lose. There would be no guarantees, no safety net to catch me if I fell.

But if I didn’t take the risk, I would never know. And I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life running scared and wondering what if. So I took the leap.

“I want to be with you. I don’t want to just dip my toe in the water. I want to dive right in and submerse myself completely. I want to drink my morning coffee with you. Sit in the front seat at all your gigs. Stay up all night talking and laughing and sleep in your bed and dance in the rain with you. I want to know all your dirty secrets and I want to be the only girl you kiss good night. I want you to drive your chariot down my street…” I stopped and took a breath. My pulse was beating in my throat like a hummingbird. I swallowed and snuck a glance at his face to gauge his reaction. “I mean, if you want that, too.”

He stared at me blankly. As the silence stretched out, my stomach started to churn and my face felt hot. I was tempted to take back every word I’d said.

Until, finally, a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth and took over his whole face. My heart leapt. “So we’rereallydoing this.”

My chest loosened and all my fears evaporated. “We’rereallydoing this.” I smiled so wide my face hurt.

He grabbed his guitar from the sidewalk, took my hand, and weran. My chunky wood platform soles beat out a staccato rhythm on the concrete, but my heels didn’t slow me down. I felt like I’d grown wings.

We flew. Across the street under the neon lights, around the corner past the moonlit park, down my street and up the stairs. All seventy-two steps from the street to my front door.

When we reached my apartment, we were panting and breathless, and we laughed for no reason other than the sheer joy of being alive.

Inside, I kicked off my heels and Gabriel kicked the door shut, and then we were on each other, hands and mouthsgroping for more. Feet stumbling, heart skipping, my fingers twisted into his hair and his hands glided down my back and grabbed my ass, squeezing it in his hands as his lips descended on mine.

A fraction of a kiss. Then another.

I caught the fullest part of his bottom lip between my teeth.

One rough hand gently cupped my jaw and he kissed me. His tongue parted the seam of my lips and swept inside, deepening the kiss.

He tasted like red wine. He tasted like a dream.

“Cleo,” he said, his voice low as his hand twisted in the hem of my T-shirt and he dragged the cotton up my body, fingers brushing my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. “Is this okay?”

“Yes. God, yes.” I wanted everything. Right now.

He peeled the T-shirt off and tossed it on the floor then drew back to look at me in the dim light of the hallway.

“Cleo. Cleo. Cleo.” His hand slid around to the nape of my neck and he fisted my hair. I gasped, a thrill shooting through me when he yanked my head back by the hair and dragged his mouth down the side of my neck, over my collarbone, teeth grazing my nipple as he thumbed the fabric aside and cupped me in his hand. “You’re a work of art.”

I was standing in front of my collaged wall.Song of Songs. The erotic poetry and sexy pomegranates and lacy veils and moody blues.

If I could speak, I would tell him,It’s you. It’s you. It’s you. The one I’ve been waiting for all my life.