“So where is this place?”
We’re talking about getting breakfast, but the electricity arcing between us is having a completely different conversation. The contrast is enough to fizz my thoughts and speed my pulse.
The sense of his question is lost in his nearness. His chest is still bare, and my hands rest against it. Drew’s skin is hot and alive. Yet his flesh, though muscled and hard, still yields to my touch, reminding me how vulnerable he is. How much he’s suffered. How much I want to care for him.
I’m attracted to him. No doubt about that. I’ve never wanted anyone like this.
But I’m alsodrawnto him. I want to be near him. Talk to him. Listen to all of his stories. Tell him all of mine. I want to celebrate his Taurus birthday. Bake him a cake. Whatever flavor he wants. I want to watch movies with him. Play silly games. Everything he missed out on while he was away.
And I want to travel with him. I don’t have to ask to know Drew has never left the country. Wouldn’t it be awesome to see Iceland together? Or New Zealand? Or Bali? I picture teaching him yoga on an Indonesian beach and can’t help my grin.
His eyes narrow on me. “What’s going on in your head, Guppy?” Despite the silly nickname, his voice is low and sensual.
“Do you like to travel?” I hear myself ask.
Drew’s gaze searches mine. My question has surprised him. That’s clear enough, but he also looks at me as though he’s searching for something.
The hand on my elbow glides up to my shoulder and then cups my cheek. He runs his thumb along my jaw, but his expression has gone pensive. “I don’t really know.” His brow arches and his tone turns wry. “Haven’t had many opportunities lately.”
I ignore his self-deprecation. “What about when you were a kid? Did you take vacations?”
Drew’s face tightens, but I’m relieved to see it doesn’t shut down. “Not really. Money was tight after my dad left. We went to the beach a few times with Grandma and Grandpa.” Then he frowns, but I can tell it’s not a frown of distress, but one of memory. “And one year, my Uncle Nelson rented a house boat for the whole crew in Arkansas. That was a lot of fun.”
His gaze shifts to the left and the lines around his mouth soften. I want to see what he’s seeing, but I don’t dare ask. If this is a happy memory of his family — of his brother Anthony or of his mother who now won’t forgive him — I don’t want to pull him from it. Instead, I keep my hands pressed to his chest and feel the easy rhythm of his heart under my right palm. His thick, work-roughened fingertips against the delicate skin of my face.
Touching him is a great way to anchor into the present.
And then his focus is on me again. “You like to travel?”
“I love to travel.”
He nods, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I figured.”
“Most water signs do,” I say, teasing him on purpose. “We move easily. Go with the flow.”
Drew rolls his dark eyes, and his low chuckle vibrates through his chest. Oh, yeah. I love touching him while he laughs.
He shakes his head at me. “Speaking of going, you never answered my question.”
I blink. “What question?”
Pent up laughter crinkles the corners of his eyes. “About where this Tribe place is. And is it fancy or chill?” His scrutiny returns. “I may be a grease monkey, but I don’t want to dress like one if we’re going somewhere frilly.”
“Frilly?”I almost splutter with laughter. First of all, I can’t evenpictureDrew Moroux somewhere frilly. I shake my head. “No. No. It’s on the corner of Pinhook and University.”
His look is all confusion. “By the Chevron station?”
My mouth twists to the side. “Technically, it’s in the same building as the Chevron station, but—”
His lids lower. “We’re eating breakfast in a gas station.”
It’s not a question, but I feel compelled to respond. “Yes.”
“Where they serve raw food.”
I blink and press my lips together. “Yes.”
“And menu items may or may not be vegan and/or gluten-free.”
