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His hands slid up her arms to find her face, his fingers tangling in her hair. His kiss grew more insistent, parting her lips.
At the first brush of his tongue, she gasped and knew her knees were going to give out.
But then Gabriel stepped back, his hands braced on her shoulders. She was left shaking there in the middle of the path, wind coming off the water to whip through the space between them.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was rough, almost ashamed. “I didn’t think . . . after the way that ass**le treated you ”
She shook her head fiercely. “No it’s fine ”
“I should have waited.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Her breath stumbled when the words escaped, and she felt her cheeks burn.
But he smiled. “Yeah?”
She couldn’t move. Right then, she realized he’d been right, about the running. She wanted to run, before his hold on her heart got any tighter.
He leaned closer, until she could see his eyes. The smile was gone. “Do you want me to let you go?”
No. Never. She closed her eyes and nodded.
A hesitation, then, “I think you’re lying.”
She was. But in what freakish world would a guy like Gabriel Merrick be standing with her in the dark, at the water’s edge, sharing kisses and secrets?
He closed that space between them again, until the line of his body just brushed hers. She couldn’t breathe.
“Do you want me to let you go?” he said again.
She swallowed. “No.”
He dropped his head and ran his lips along the edge of her jaw, and the warmth of his breath made her shiver and lean into him. His hands slid down her arms to catch her waist.
She froze and grabbed his wrists.
He went still and spoke against her skin. “Does it hurt?”
Layne shook her head, feeling fire on her cheeks for an entirely different reason. She kept hearing Ryan’s voice. She’s all deformed under there.
God, she hated him. Them. Everyone.
Don’t cry. Don’t.
But her emotions were all over the place, and she could barely keep them contained. She didn’t even realize Gabriel had pulled her along the path until she felt wood planks against the backs of her knees, and he was saying, “Sit.”
A bench. She sat. The wood felt rough through her tights, but sturdy. The tears had held back so far, and she said a quick prayer of thanks.
“You should probably take me home,” she said.
He leaned in to brush the hair back from her face, and it felt so good that she wanted to catch his hand and hold it there. But she didn’t.
“Do you really want me to?” he said.
No, she didn’t. She shook her head and looked out at the inky water.
He leaned closer. “Want to play more truth or dare?”
