Page 12 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)

Gabe

I’m just making sure she gets inside safely , I told myself as I drove my truck into one of the three empty stalls in her garage like I owned the place.

“Wow. Your garage is huge.”

“Yeah, when my ex cleaned out his stuff, it freed up a lot of space.”

“You’ve got so much room for storage.” For things like kitchen cabinets .

The thought was a somber reminder of the notice our attorney had sent her earlier today.

Gretchen looked around, as if just noticing how much room there was.

“Yeah. Maybe I can start an online store or something.”

“An online store? Doing what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m going to need to do something though.”

She opened her door and hesitated before getting out. I didn’t know if she was reluctant to end the night or because she wasn’t able to get out on her own.

“Hold on, let me help you,” I told her and quickly got out of the truck to go around to the passenger side to help her.

My F150 had running boards, but I wasn’t sure how steady she was on her feet.

But that didn’t explain why after she was on the ground, one of my hands lingered on her hip while the other was still holding her hand.

She was a magnet that I was drawn to touch .

I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt the connection. Her wide eyes staring up at me told me she felt it, too, without her having to say a word.

“Do you want to come in?” she whispered breathlessly. “I don’t have any beer, but I have wine, and maybe a bottle of whiskey or rum. Or some coffee?”

My thumb caressed her hip bone, and I gave her a sad smile.

“More than you know, darlin.”

“But…?”

“But you’ve had too much to drink. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of you.”

So, my reason was only half-true. I decided the fact that I was still doing the right thing gave me a pass for not coming clean about who I was.

She closed the distance between us, so her chest was pressed against mine as she looked up at me with her beautiful cornflower-blue eyes.

“What if I want to be taken advantage of?”

I felt my Adam’s apple bob as I swallowed hard. No matter what I did in this situation, I was going to lose. You’d think after being married to Becky for ten years, I’d be used to it by now, but I didn’t like my predicament one bit.

Gretchen was going to think I was rejecting her, and unless I owned up to being the “Jerk of the Year,” she was going to take it personally.

“Sweetheart…”

She lifted on her toes and silenced whatever I was going to say next by planting a kiss on my mouth. I wanted to pull away—honest, but her lips were soft, and she let out a little moan, and my willpower went out the window. My fantasy girl had just kissed me. I was a good guy, but I wasn’t a saint.

So instead of pushing her away, one arm instinctively wrapped around her waist to pull her closer while my fingers wove into her silky blonde hair as I angled my mouth to deepen the kiss.

****

Gretchen

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been kissed like this.

Probably because it’d never happened.

Troy had never made me feel like he needed me like he needed oxygen, but that’s exactly how Gabriel made me feel.

I had to admit—I loved it. I felt wanted.

Needed, even.

And I hadn’t felt needed—at least, sexually—in a really, really long time.

I probably should have felt apprehensive about throwing myself at a man I’d just met, but every cell in my being told me Gabriel was trustworthy.

Not to mention he knew how to kiss.

Damn, did he know how to kiss.

I ground against his erection like a cat in heat. I wasn’t proud of it, but I hadn’t had sex in almost a year, and a strong, handsome, sexy man was kissing me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. A girl could only take so much.

I knew my panties were soaked.

He burrowed his face in my neck to trail kisses down my throat, and I realized I was making out with a man in my garage with the door open and the lights on for all my neighbors to watch.

“Gabriel, let’s go inside.”

It was like my words broke whatever spell he’d been under, because he lifted his head to look at me, then closed his eyes tight and took a step back.

“Fuck, Gretchen. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

I felt my spine stiffen when I realized what was happening.

“I’m not drunk,” I grumbled defensively.

“That’s not it.”

No, I wasn’t drunk, but I was still a little tipsy, so I couldn’t make sense of what the problem could possibly be.

Suddenly, I gasped, “Oh my god, you’re in a relationship! I’m so sorry! Derrick said you were single, and I just thought… we were flirting at the bar, then you offered to take me home… I’m so embarrassed!”

“No! I’m not in a relationship. That’s not it.”

I cocked my head. “Then I don’t understand.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not who you think I am.”