Page 17 of Into These Eyes

Gavin

I t feels like I’ve only just drifted off to sleep when my phone buzzes beside my head on the tiny nightstand.

Prying my eyes open, I stare at the screen. Not a number I recognise.

Pissed at being woken when I have to get up for work in less than hours, I’m more than ready to let whoever’s on the other end of the line have it.

“What?” I snap.

“This Gavin Lake?” a man asks.

“Who wants to know?”

“Jamie Evans.”

What the fuck? “You don’t sound like Jamie Evans.”

“Yeah,” he says, “I mean, this’s her phone.”

Heart racing, I sit up. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know, man. She just handed me her phone and told me to call you. That she’d promised you or something. She’s pretty wasted. I wouldn’t wanna leave her unattended much longer, if you know what I mean.”

After a short conversation regarding her location, I book an Uber, pull on jeans and runners and slip on the only button-down shirt I own, hoping the club doesn’t discriminate against wrinkles.

Once in the car, I realise I now have her number. Scrabbling with my phone, I quickly add it to my contacts. Sitting back, my chest relaxes a little. Not that I’ll abuse the honour of having her number. It simply makes me feel better knowing she’s not completely out of reach.

When I arrive at the leagues club, the receptionist signs me in and directs me to the cocktail bar.

As I enter and lock eyes with the barman, he takes a few steps over to a woman in a flowing white dress that gently hugs her figure, her hair up in a messy auburn ponytail.

Slowly turning on the barstool, she takes me in, her eyes dancing with delight before her mouth curves upward. My breath catches and I stop in my tracks. I’d give anything to have her look at me like that when she’s sober.

She’s clearly drunk, clearly happy to see me, yet obviously in a world of pain she’s been trying to drown.

But I’m not here to take in how beautiful she is. I’m here to help her. She hadn’t forgotten the promise she made me. And the smart girl that she is, she kept it. All while wasted on grief and alcohol.

When I move up beside her, she points at me and says to the barman with a giggle, “He thinks I’m gorgeous.”

An uncomfortable heat races up my neck. Christ. Even while drunk, she hasn’t forgotten my slip up.

Gripping my shoulder, she leans all her weight against my side. I wrap an arm around her waist before she topples off the stool.

“Thanks for coming, man. Time to get her outta here before she gets herself in trouble,” the barman says.

“Oh, Sammy-whammy, don’t be a big party pooper,” she slurs with a grin, then looks up at me. “He’s mean.”

Sammy-whammy rolls his eyes at me. It’s definitely time to go.

When I look down at Jamie pressed against my side, she grins at me with glazed, yet happy eyes. It’s evident she’s achieved her mission to forget. I’d been worried my presence would bring it all rushing back. Apparently not.

I pull my phone from my pocket so I can book an Uber, but realise I don’t know her address.

“Got your phone?” I ask her.

“Course I do, silly,” she giggles. “How’d you know I was here otherwise?”

Well, at least she still has some rational thought processes going on in that alcohol-soaked brain.

“We’ll need it to book an Uber and get you home.”

She slaps her palm against my chest and laughs, like I’ve said the funniest thing she’s ever heard.

“Okay,” I say, trying to ignore how warm her hand is through my shirt, and how fucking good her body feels pressed against my side. “What’s your address?” I ask, figuring it might be easier to book it on my phone.

“I can’t remember,” she slurs, letting her fingers slowly trail down my shirt’s buttons. When I give her a questioning look, she says, “Oh! Maybe it’s on my phone?”

Her fingers pause above my navel. “Wait a minute,” she says as she flattens her hand and rubs her palm across my torso. “Are those muscles?”

“Phone, Jamie.”

“Oooo … I can feel them getting all tense. Can I see?”

When she tries to undo a button, I flatten her hand with mine.

Jesus, this isn’t the woman who came to see me today. The warmth of her body pressed against me, and the touch of her hand on my stomach, is driving me crazy. Only one problem. None of it’s real. It’s the alcohol, not her. I know that. Well, at least my brain does.

I take her purse from her shoulder and place it in front of her on the bar. I really don’t want to dig around in there, but I will if I have to.

Fortunately, she gets the message, removes her hand from my abdomen, and fishes out her phone. Unlocking it with fluid swipes, she hands it to me.

I quickly find the app, book a ride to the destination she has saved as home , then haul her off the stool and wrap an arm around her waist, tightening my grip when she stumbles in her heels.

After making it through the club without an incident, we wait outside the entrance for the Uber that’s only a few minutes away.

At the kerb, I close my eyes and take it all in.

The warm, gentle breeze caresses my skin and ruffles my hair, reminding me how freedom feels.

Six months ago, along with the sixteen years that preceded it, I’d have been locked in a cell for the rest of the night, with no possibility of experiencing heavenly fresh air.

Such a simple thing. Sometimes it’s these tiny moments that hurt the most. But that’s not all there is tonight.

Now I have a beautiful woman clinging to my side and resting her head against me.

Shifting, Jamie takes a step in front of me, trips on my feet and stumbles.

When I haul her flush against me to keep her from going down, she wraps her arms around my waist and holds on tight.

Her cheek gently rubs against my chest, her hair brushing my jaw and catching in my whiskers as that amazing scent of hers gets sucked into me with my next breath.

It’s intoxicating and surreal, so completely the opposite of my experience in prison, it’s hard to wrap my head around.

Of course, I’m left with no choice but to continue to hold her. I wouldn’t want her to fall and crack her head on the concrete. Getting her home safe is my only priority.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out on a long, pleasant sigh. “I like this,” she says so softly I almost miss it.

I barely manage to stop myself from touching my lips to the top of her head. But I don’t manage to keep my mouth shut. “I like it, too.”

She looks up at me with a smile that lights up her stunning face. Then she releases her hold on my waist and slowly runs her hands over my pecs before letting out a little groan of pleasure. Christ. I’m in trouble here.

“You’re so strong and hard,” she murmurs. “I think you’re turning me on, Gavin Lake.” She quickly covers her mouth and giggles. “Oops. I’m not supposed to say that, am I?”

Fuck.

In the nick of time, our Uber pulls up alongside us.

Extracting her hands from my chest is excruciating, but I do it before she feels just how hard I’m getting elsewhere. I reach around her and open the door, helping her in before I climb in beside her while she moves over.

But she doesn’t move to the other side of the car. The moment I settle in beside her, she cozies up to me. I’m not sure I can survive all this touching.

“Seatbelts,” the driver says, turning to look at us, his eyes grazing over Jamie’s bare thighs where her dress has ridden up a little too high.

I glare at him as I tug it down before snapping on our belts.

As the car pulls onto the road, her head drops against my shoulder at an awkward angle. Without thinking, I raise my arm and stretch it across her shoulders. She snuggles into me, her hand reaching across my stomach and resting against my side.

Instead of staring at her alluring bare knees, I turn my gaze out the window and keep it there.

And soak in everything. I honestly never thought I’d be in the position I’m in now. With a beautiful woman’s arm draped across me, her body pressed to mine. I thought I’d lost any chance of this forever. She’s drunk, and the moment she’s sober, this goes away. But for now, I’m going to enjoy it.

She’s tucked her shoulder under my armpit and twisted into me, her heartbeat knocking against my ribs. Her soft breath skims over my shirt, creating a barely detectable movement over the fabric. Strands of her hair tickle my jaw, catching in my beard again.

I’m so sensitive to touch, to her touch, I literally feel the rush of endorphins spike in my brain.

When the hand against my side uncurls and starts a meandering exploration up my torso, I place my palm on her forearm, stopping her.

The touch of my skin against hers takes me by surprise.

Sparks shoot up my arm and settle in my stomach.

All on their own, my fingertips brush over her skin in small, featherlight circles.

She lets out a tiny groan that transfers from her body to mine.

Goddammit, I’m so hard it’s painful. Not that it matters. Even if she was mine, I wouldn’t be doing anything more than what I plan to tonight. Not while she’s in this state. If I ever get to really touch her, I want her undivided attention.

Trying to get some semblance of control, I concentrate on the scenery outside. Within minutes, the car pulls up in front of a neat brick home with a welcoming porch light.

I grip her shoulder and give her a little shake. “Wake up, sleepy head.”

She grumbles before snuggling closer.

“Jamie?” I persist, unbuckling my belt, then hers. “We’re here. Well, at least I think we are.”

The driver looks over his shoulder at Jamie. “You know him, love?”

I glance at Jamie, who’s staring at me with confusion.

“You safe with this guy?” he asks with concern.

As her gaze flicks to the driver, I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Tell him I’m your boyfriend.”

Coming to life again, she giggles. “He’s my boyfriend. Gavin Lake, the man I hate, is my boyfriend.”

My whole body stiffens.

“You hate your boyfriend?” the driver asks.