Page 27

Chapter 27

APRIL

M ost of our group chose to shower at home, but the idea of sitting in lake water for the drive made my feet shuffle toward the outdoor shower stalls. I wondered if Gabe had already left. He’d been conversing with Beck when I’d gotten out of the lake, but I lost him when Jessica asked me to unzip and peel off her wetsuit. Then we started talking about some modifications she wanted for her bike. By the time our conversation died down, the group had dispersed.

The slap of my flip-flops on concrete echoed between the stalls, accompanying the spray of the one running shower. I opted for the open door across from it, figuring the person in there was most likely someone from our group.

There is safety in numbers. That’s the thought I had before a hand tightened around my wrist.

I yelped as that hand yanked me backward into a stall. Before I could thoroughly panic or imagine becoming the topic of a crime podcast, Gabe’s dark eyes came into view. I only saw a flash of them before he cupped my face, lips on mine—hungry, greedy.

His condition was contagious. My mouth became embarrassingly frantic, like I was kissing him for the last time—not an illogical thought, considering the last time was supposed to be the last time. Without breaking our kiss, his hand hooked under my duffle bag’s strap, relieving me of it. I suspected he put it on the nearby bench, but I didn’t open my eyes to look. Honestly, he could have thrown it under the shower spray for all I cared, as long as he didn’t stop kissing me.

Luckily, Gabe’s appetite seemed as insatiable as my own. He tilted my face, plunging his tongue deeper. Meanwhile, I snaked a hand under his arm and around his back, fingers digging into his shoulder blade as if I could keep him from retreating—from snapping out of it and telling me this was a bad idea. As I sealed myself to him, Gabe’s length strained against his swim shorts, pressing against my stomach. He was hard—so hard it had to hurt.

I could relate. An unbearable heaviness grew between my thighs. I had to have him completely on the hook or I would face a very disappointing evening.

Fighting every instinct, I broke the kiss, gulping in air I hadn’t realized I’d gone without. “I thought we agreed not to do this again,” I whispered, then sucked his bottom lip, relishing in the way it made his cock twitch.

A groan rumbled from his ribs to my chest. “That was before I knew you were going to torture me today, April.” He went back to kissing me with commanding lips, but this time, he backed me into a wall. His hand left my jaw, and I heard the door’s lock slide into place. There was no escape now. I was going to pay thoroughly for teasing him. The promise hummed down my spine.

“Tortured you?” I tried to feign innocence, but it sounded nothing short of salacious .

He put just enough space between us so his hands could roam over my breasts. With a whisper of a touch, he brushed the back of his fingers over nipples that pebbled beneath my swimsuit fabric. I shivered.

“You know exactly what you were doing,” he accused, eyes glued to my breasts like he was afraid they’d vanish if he didn’t watch carefully enough.

I considered letting him win the argument, only so he’d keep touching me, but I forced the words out. “Like you didn’t know what you were doing.” I gasped as he lightly pinched. My back arched off the wall, but I closed my eyes, focusing on the words I needed to say. “The other day. At the gym.”

He’d gotten me all hot and bothered during my squat set. Then he’d just walked away, leaving me confused and aroused and frustrated.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice as deep as a cavern. Sure fingers edged my swimsuit straps down, peeling until fresh air hit my breasts. “Let me make it up to you.”

He licked his lips and moved in, but that’s when my eyes fell on the edge of the shower stall. I put a hand on his chest. “Wait. We can’t.” He stopped instantly, searching my face like he’d find some hint of something he’d done wrong—a cue he’d misread. “I want to,” I hurried to say, “so unbelievably bad. But—” I pointed at the open area between where the concrete stopped and the shower stall started. “What if someone sees our feet?”

I was pretty sure we were the only swimmers left, but I wasn’t certain. The idea of him losing out on A-Team because I’d seduced him made me feel like a siren dragging him under dark waves.

His gaze could have burned a hole in my irises. “Is that all you’re worried about?” He tilted his head. “Someone seeing our feet?”

I nodded, eyes fluttering. “It’s a little suspicious.”

He peeled off his suit and the rest of mine before hoisting me up. My bare core resting on his pelvis was enough to make me feel sparks. Then he said, “Guess I’ll just have to fuck you against the door, Baird.” And in a snap, the sparks ignited into a full-on forest fire, engulfing every thought except Gabe and what he planned to do with me.

He started by lifting me further to taste my breasts, taking turns sucking and nipping them. My head rocked against the shower stall, and I bit down on my lip to keep the moan inside.

Gabe sucked on my nipples until they were nearly to the point of being raw. When a cry did escape, he let my body slide down his and kissed me. My core was still achingly empty of him. I reached down to rectify that but released the reins to Gabe when he put himself at my entrance.

One push inside, and I was seeing stars. Gabe adored my lips with his own for a moment. Then he asked, “You okay?”

The tenderness in the question made my heart swell. “Better than okay,” I whispered into his mouth.

He caught my lips with his again and then continued rocking into me. I’d gotten the feeling that he'd been holding back on our first night together. I didn’t want him to do that here. “You know,” I said between pants, “you’re not going to break me.”

He pulled back to read me as if trying to ensure he hadn’t misunderstood.

“You’d tell me if it hurts, right?”

I nodded.

“Promise me, April.”

“I promise.”

Even with my promise, he worked us up to it slowly, but it was like clicking up a roller coaster. Eventually, he got to the point where he let go of restraint and drove me into the shower stall .

The rhythm and the pressure were perfect, so I wasn’t going to say anything about being cold. The only part of my body touching the shower spray was my legs. Gabe’s body blocked out the rest. I shivered, and Gabe stopped.

“Are you cold?”

“You’re kind of hogging all the water,” I said, nipping at his bottom lip.

“Not being a very considerate lover, am I?” he rasped.

Before I could contradict him, he spun us so both our bodies were under the gush of water. Then, he pinned me with his hips against a different wall so he could reach over and point the shower head at both of us.

The water made my legs slip down his backside, but it didn’t matter because Gabe’s grip kept me secure. I kind of hoped his fingers would leave imprints on my ass—a little souvenir of this time with him.

Satisfied with his hold on me, Gabe went back to rolling his hips into mine, and I had to work to keep quiet at the build of pressure.

“You drive me crazy, April,” he said before kissing me. His lips were slippery from the water, and the glide made me that much hungrier for purchase. Water dripped from his face to mine, rolling down my jaw in streams. I couldn’t get enough. He swept his tongue across my bottom lip, and my stomach swirled. I hooked an arm around his shoulder to pull myself closer to him. He held me up with one hand and braced the other against the wall. I could tell he was in the same boat, in need of release—so bad it hurt. He whispered something that, again, sounded like a Spanish prayer, but I could have imagined it for how clearly he next asked, “May I come inside you again?”

“Yes,” is all I managed. I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out as he picked up the pace. Gabe watched my features like he would find the solution to world hunger in my eyes. It was too much, the way he looked at me. Too intimate. Eye contact was not for casual sex. I broke my gaze, squeezing my eyes shut and dropping my head to his shoulder. It wasn’t long until an orgasm tore a hole through my reality, pulling me away from everything that wasn’t Gabe and the sensation he’d created.

Gabe’s pleasure followed directly after. He shuddered forward, leaning into that arm he had propped on the wall. When the climax loosened its grip on him, his entire body relaxed like a puppet whose master snipped the strings. “April Baird,” he panted. “You are going to be the death of me.”

I quietly laughed. “There are worse ways to die, though, right?”

“I can’t think of a better way.” He adjusted me in his grip.

“Speaking of dying. Your arms must be killing you.”

“You weigh nothing.” He backed us up until our faces were under the water.

I laughed, and Gabe said, “We have to shower all that lake water off if we want to get dinner.”

Butterflies. I had butterflies. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling us from the spray to get his bottle of soap.

“Here,” I offered. If he was going to hold me up, I could at least do the lathering. Besides, I needed something to look at other than his eyes, afraid I’d melt. I squirted some in my hands and made small circles over his shoulders, up his neck, across his chest.

“I don’t want to be done seeing you today.”

I did look back at his eyes at that. The words were such simple colors, but they painted a complicated idea.

It’s more than sex, then .

I countered that thought with a normal one. Dinner can still be casual.

“Tell me you can come,” he said.

I went back to lathering. “That depends. Do you know of any good places to eat, Torres?”

I learned that Gabe is a bit of a foodie which, if I had to spend a considerable amount of time fueling that tank his soul drove, I’d probably be more of one, too.

He took me to Freedom Park because the food trucks rolled in on the last Saturday of every month. So many cultures were represented, and different mixes of spices melded in the air. I didn’t know where to start. I wanted it all.

“How will we ever choose?”

“This is one of my favorites,” Gabe said, pointing to a truck that smelled like a taqueria. My stomach growled. “Do you like TexMex?”

I walked toward it as an answer. The line was long, which I figured was a good sign. I squinted at the menu while we waited. An item caught my eye: a corn tortilla stuffed with beef, cheese, cilantro, and onion.

“Do you know how to pronounce that?” I asked Gabe while pointing.

His eyes narrowed at me as if trying to see if I was serious. “Yes?”

“Do you speak Spanish?” I finally asked.

“I hope so since that’s what my mom speaks.”

Add bilingual to the long list of things that made Gabriel Torres hot.

“You never told me that.”

He shrugged. “Nunca preguntaste.”

I stared at him blankly. “Should I get out Google Translate, or . . .”

“You never asked.”

“So, how do I say it?” I asked, looking back at the menu.

He gave a mischievous smile. “How do you think it’s pronounced?”

The line moved forward, and I had the distinct fear that this was going to be the equivalent of someone ordering fajitas as fah-jigh-tahs.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“I want to hear you give it a try.”

“You know what? I’m just going to go get that Thai I saw,” I said, turning away from the truck. “They have little numbers next to the menu items.”

Gabe grabbed my arm, laughing, and the warmth of his touch made me feel like I harbored a star in my chest—becoming brighter by the second.

“What if I promise not to make fun of you?”

“You’re already laughing,” I accused.

“I’ll stop,” he said, clearly struggling to keep his features neutral.

I sighed and squinted back at the menu. Okay, I knew the first part, quesa —only the best ingredient of all time. It was the second half that felt like a calculus problem. I blew out a breath, then guessed, “Burr-ia?”

As promised, he didn’t laugh, but there was no mistaking the twinkle in his eye. “So close. It’s pronounced bee-rryah.”

“Bee-rryah?” I tested.

“That’s it. You’ve never had it before?”

“It’s just like a taco, right?”

“No, Baird. Not just like a taco.”

It was our turn at the window, and Gabe ordered for us. He started with a friendly, “ Hola ,” and then ordered in Spanish that rolled effortlessly off his tongue. I did catch, “ quesabirria y sopapillas ” and a “ por favor .” The rest was lost upon me. But I didn’t need to know exactly what he was saying to realize this was the first time I’d ever thought someone ordering food sounded sexy.

Gabe turned back toward me, and I’m sure the wonder must have been plain on my features. I felt like a sunflower turned toward the sun.

“What?” he asked as we stepped to the side, waiting for our food.

“Nothing.” Then I laughed at myself. “Just ashamed that I took two years of Spanish in high school and couldn’t keep up with a food order.”

“You don’t remember any of it?”

“I know the basics. Colors, greetings, how to ask for the bathroom.” I thought for a moment. “Oh, I know like half of Despacito . Does that count for anything?”

“I don’t know.” He pretended to mull that over. “You’d have to sing it for me.”

“Yeah. That’s not happening.” I laughed, and so did Gabe. “Was Spanish your first language?”

He bobbed his head from side to side. “My dad wanted me to know English. So I grew up learning both.”

“Wow.” I wondered how hard that must have been for him as a child. Learning two names for everything. Then again, kids are pretty resilient. “Did your dad grow up bilingual, too?”

Gabe paused so long that I thought maybe he hadn’t heard the question, but then he said, “No. He didn’t learn Spanish until he was an adult.”

“Don’t tell me he learned it to communicate with your mom, or I will melt.”

Gabe watched the people passing by on the sidewalk. “He did.”

I got it. Gabe was a guy. It was normal for him to be unimpressed with his parents’ love story, but I couldn’t take how cute that was. “ That’s so romantic.”

Gabe didn’t just look unimpressed. He looked disgusted. I tried to figure out what I’d said wrong but was saved when they called his name for our order.

The awkward moment between us was forgotten as Gabe unbagged our food on a picnic table. Cheese oozed out of my taco, causing my mouth to water. I picked it up, ready to take a chunk out of it, but Gabe stopped me.

“Woah, hold up, Baird.”

“Oh.” I lowered the taco. “Sorry. Were you going to say grace or something?”

He chuckled. “No.” Then he opened a lid on what looked like a container of soup. “It’s traditional to dip the tacos in the stew.”

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Seriously.” He took his own and dunked it before taking a bite that deleted half his taco.

I followed suit, still skeptical, until I took a bite of savory heaven.

“My God,” I said.

“Beats cold spaghetti or whatever the hell you planned on eating tonight,” he said, grinning into his bite.

“Hey,” I said, wiping my mouth. “I don’t always eat my spaghetti cold.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” He sounded unconvinced.

I would have argued further, but honestly, the taco was taking all my attention—that is until Gabe opened a bag of sopapillas dusted in cinnamon and sugar. We ate and commiserated about swimming in lake water while watching a group of teens trying skateboard tricks.

I’d just finished comparing the grass at the bottom of Gemini Lake to the poor unfortunate souls in “The Little Mermaid” when Gabe’s eyes dipped to my lips .

“Here. You have a little—” He reached out, and his own mouth went slack as he watched the movement of his thumb drag down my bottom lip. I felt particles of sugar fall from my lip, but his thumb stayed there. He was entranced by my lips, and I was entranced by him.

Someone hollered, snapping us from our hold on each other. We both turned to find a teenager on his back, skateboard rolling down the pavement, but he laughed, letting everyone know he was okay.

Gabe gathered our trash. “We better get you home. You have an early run.”

I hated to part ways. I wanted to spend the night spellbound by him, let him lick sugar off my lips until the sun came up. But that was the problem. I wanted it too badly, and that was a recipe for heartache.

“You would know,” I said, helping him pile containers in the paper bag.

“You’re damn right I would.”

This was easier. Flirting was fine, but I would not catch feelings for Gabriel Torres.