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Might as well go for it now. He's caught me looking. "I've always liked it. Remember the first time we saw each other?"
He groans, tilting his head back. When he swallows, his Adam's apple moves visibly. It's one of the sexiest things I've seen. "Do I remember? I fuckin' use it as fantasy fuel during alone time. Summer before last, you came home with Alexis for the holiday weekend. We met y'all at the lake. You hopped out of the water onto our boat and I could not breathe. Curves for goddamn days. Hair brushing against the dimples above your ass. Then that smile you gave me? I was gone."
"Wouldn't know it," I shrug as I attempt to flirt back with him. "You didn't even ask my name until three hours later when you handed me a beer."
He doesn't just approach. He stalks toward me like prey he wants to feed off of. His strong arms box me in, as he steps back, bending slightly so that he can see my face. "Haven't you heard?" He leans in, running the tip of his nose along my neck and jawline, before moving up to my ear. "It's the quiet, shy ones you have to watch out for. Because we're not always quiet and shy."
The tension between us is thicker than a muggy summer night. "I'm just waiting for you to show me, Abel."
Removing his hand from the counter, he brings it up, palming the back of my head. "Might wanna put your arms around me and hang on. I'm about to take the kiss I wanted back then. If you've got a problem with it, now is the time to tell me."
I shake my head, licking my lips in anticipation. "No, I want it. You're a man of few words, but when you say them, you sure do make 'em count."
He swallows roughly. "Been my MO my entire life. You ready?"
He doesn't wait for me to answer, he breezes in, pressing his lips to mine. It's a slow assault, one that leaves me gasping and gripping my fingers into his shirt, trying to stay upright as he tilts my world on its axis. My legs turn to jelly as he gives me a masterclass in what a kiss really is. I haven't been living, but I am living in this kiss, and maybe slowly dying at the same time. It's the best juxtaposition, and worth every moment I spent pining for him while hating that he didn't notice me. When he pulls away, I'm trying to get my bearings. He closes his eyes, tilting his head back, like looking at me will make him lose every ounce of control he's managed to hang on to. It's the best ego boost I've ever had. "I'm ready for that dinner," I whisper.
"Best get to it." He drags his palm down the side of my face, cupping the side of my throat, pressing his thumb into the pounding beat of my pulse. "Otherwise, what's between your legs might be on the menu."
I shiver in anticipation, but realize at the same time, we have to move at a pace not guided by hormones. Grasping his hand in mine, I lead him to the bar, and have a seat on one of the stools. He brings the food over, sitting it within reaching distance for both of us, and nods over to me. "After you. You spend so much of life serving people, I think you should be the one who gets to go first, for once."
The thoughtfulness tightens my chest. "Thank you, Abel. I appreciate what you've done."
"Thanks, and I appreciate you."
Three little words, but they mean more than anyone could ever imagine. Especially when you work your ass off to make your dreams come true.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Abel
"Are you even listening to what I'm saying?" Jasper asks, waving a hand in front of my face.
He, Barrett, and I are working out. It's our Saturday morning routine. Since we were teenagers on the football team, we've worked out every Saturday morning. I try to ignore him, focusing on breathing as I push the weight toward the ceiling.
"I'm listening to you. Just because I'm not gossiping doesn't mean I'm not listening."
Barrett gives him a grin. "He had a date last night, he stayed up too late to listen to you. You know Abel likes to go to bed at his normal time. He's an eighty-year-old woman in a twenty-year-old man's body."
"Haha," I fake laugh. "I like routine, and you know that."
None of them really know why I value routine, and I've never felt the need to explain it to anyone because it's so personal. After my parents split for good, I lived with my dad full-time. With him, I always knew where I would sleep, when we'd eat dinner, and that he would definitely be there to pick me up when I got out of football or basketball practice. He was stressed sometimes, and other times, he was there with dirt on his jeans, no shower taken yet, and a stomach growling because he'd rushed to be there for me.
When I was with my mom, things were much different. There were nights where I helped her move out of her apartment in the dead of night. Back then, I didn't know what that meant. Now I know it was because she didn't pay her bills, and she was skipping out on rent. There were times when I wouldn't have a full meal, it was presented like a snack board, but looking back, I know it's because she didn't have the money.
And the fucking men...
They came in and out of her life like a revolving door. Even now, she's on husband number three, and I can't remember which fiancé it was before that. In the craziness of all that, I learned that routine was where I thrived, where everything made sense, because I automatically knew how my days were supposed to go.
"It's weird, the way you have to have everything a certain way. I've never known anyone to be as particular as you," Barrett bitches.
"Yet, you're still friends with me, aren't you?" I needle at him. "You know I have mommy issues."
It's a joke, but no one really knows how much I mean it. She's left me wondering if I'm the problem more often than I'd like to admit. She wouldn't stay and be a family with me and Dad, and I've always wondered if that's because of me.
"I am, but sometimes I question why," he jokes.
"Come on, let's finish this circuit so we can get out of here. I have other things I wanna do today besides spending it working out with y'all."
