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A cough rings out behind me, and I snap out of my fantasy. Gavin peeks over my head, his smile faltering when he sees who stands there. Only one possible person could be there. Alyson. And from the scene she walked in on, I would not be shocked if she policed the rest of the shoot.
Gavin’s eyes come back to mine before he bends to press a soft kiss on my lips. “I’ll try to think about something else so we can wrap this up.”
I nod, blurting, “shitty diapers.”
He tips his head in question. “Shitty diapers…” he says, dragging out the words.
“Yeah. Think about that and it’ll solve the current setback.”
He walks backward, a hearty laugh bellowing from his chest. “You always know the right thing to say.”
We hike back to the cars, Alyson leading the way twenty feet ahead of us and griping over how bloodthirsty the insects are in Florida. Gavin falls in step beside me, his fingers wrapped around mine and clutching me as if I might slip away. Not a single word is spoken for ten minutes as we follow the trail.
When we reach the opening, I hear Alyson mutter thank God under her breath. Gavin laughs loud enough for only me to hear, shaking his head at her bitching. Obviously, the mosquito population isn’t as predominant in California. Seeing as summer exists the majority of the year in Florida, I would not be shocked if mosquitos were dubbed the state insect one day.
Once we are back in the lot, Alyson walks over to her rental, but not before sending a knowing look to Gavin. A look that says she understands, but also not to push her boundaries. What those boundaries are, I am not privy to.
I press the unlock button on my key fob, lifting the hatch and tucking my cameras into the bags under the cover. Gavin stands inches away as his gaze sears me. After everything is in its rightful place, I step back and close the hatch. When I turn to face Gavin, my eyes roam his body. Starting at the waistband of his board shorts—which barely hang on his hips—trailing up the grooves and curves of his abdomen, falling on his pecs—where my mouth waters at the sight of the barbells through his nipples—rising up his throat. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as my eyes scrape over his stubble and lips, and eventually land on eyes that want to devour me.
Fuck me.
His expression says everything his mouth is not. The way his tongue jets out and swipes along his bottom lip before he clamps it between his teeth. The slight smirk that follows. How his irises shift from steel to pewter. A slight rise and fall of his shoulders as his breath comes faster. How his pulse noticeably pumps harder in that spot just below his ear.
Not only does he want to kiss me. He wants to peel away my shorts and tank. But he also aches to run his fingers through my hair, ball them into fists and yank the strands taught against my scalp. To see my body bow and plead for his touch, his mouth, his tongue. Along every inch of my skin, rebranding and rememorizing all the places he has been once before.
Both of us stand stock-still. Not touching. Not speaking. Sharing a bond our bodies and hearts have never forgotten. The void between us grows less dark and vacant with each passing second.
He flings the shirt he’s been holding over his shoulder, sliding his sunglasses down and shielding his eyes from the sun. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he states. It is not a question, but also not a command.
Every coherent thought in my mind screams at me to tell him no. That we shouldn’t be doing things together as if we are a couple. At least not until this shoot is over and I know I’m not throwing my heart on the line. My brain fights with my heart—battles with my soul—and tells me to be rational, to think this through and understand the repercussions if something goes amiss.
But I ignore my brain. Tell it to shut the hell up and let me live in the moment. Because it has been so long since I have lived in the moment. Or lived life to its fullest. And I am tired of hiding—who I am and what I want. Tired of missing out on life and love.
“Yes.” It’s all I say. Because I don’t trust myself to say anything else right now. If I open my mouth, I may say words I said once before but should wait to say again.
His body comes alive and his expression mirrors a jubilance I have not seen in ages. It rolls off him in waves, piercing my aura and infecting me with a dose. I cannot help but smile at his behavior, his energy, his life force.
“Any requests? I’m open to whatever,” he says.
Feigning indecision, I tap a finger against my lips. If Gavin remembers anything about me at all, he would know my answer. But for good measure, I drag out my supposed thinking. When I feel I have sufficiently tortured him enough, I answer.
“Maybe we could grab some Asian,” I suggest, biting my lower lip.
A laugh rips from his throat as he shakes from head to toe. “I should have known that would be your answer,” he chuckles out. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”
“How about I figure that part out, seeing as I’m more familiar with the area. Want me to pick you up?”
“It wouldn’t be a proper date if you’re the one picking me up. How about I meet you at your place and we drive from there?”
“Seriously? We’re almost thirty and it’s the twenty-first century. Women can pick up men for a date.”
He nods, his laugh sparking back to life. “I realize what era we live in, baby. Doesn’t mean I can’t try to be somewhat of a gentleman. Even if I don’t have my car with me. But I’ll find a way to get there, then you can take the helm.”
I walk to the driver’s side door, Gavin a step behind me with his hand on my hip. Opening the door, I toss my phone on the seat before turning to face him and say goodbye. When I turn, his face is a breath from mine. His lips hovering dangerously close and his eyes locked with determination. As he leans closer, my eyes close, my body ready and waiting to feel his lips on mine. Just as warmth paints my lips, Alyson honks the rental’s horn.
“Let’s go!” she hollers.
And just like that, she has plucked my last nerve today. I swallow it down and don’t let it ruin the moment.
