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He comes into the room and sits on the edge of the bed. “But there’s one thing I’m not sorry for.”
I stare at him interrogatively.
“I’m not sorry that you’ve opened up to me. And I’m definitely not sorry that we kissed. I just hope I haven’t blown all my chances for one stupid mistake.”
I’d want nothing more than to throw my arms around his neck and pull him into bed with me, but I need to be cautious. Marissa is right. We need to take things slow.
So instead of jumping him like I feel most inclined to do, I only say, “Consider yourself on probation.”
The smile of pure relief, joy, and hope he rewards me with is heart-shattering. “I promise I won’t screw up again.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Okay. I swear I won’t try to abduct you again and that if I ever were to plan a romantic weekend, I’d get your full approval first.”
“Romantic weekends? Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”
“Am I? After the way you kissed me this afternoon, I don’t think so.”
“Humbleness isn’t really one of your strong suits.”
Gabriel stands up. “I’m going to go now. Sweet dreams,” he says with the face of someone who knows my dreams will all be about him.
He pauses on the threshold, hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be in the other room in case you change your mind.”
I scowl.
“Sorry, had to put that out there.” He winks.
“You’re a real—”
“Sweetheart.”
I throw a pillow at him, but he closes the door and the stuffed projectile hits the wood and slides to the floor harmlessly.
I hear his laugh on the other side. Then silence.
Is he gone?
“Blake?” His voice comes muffled from the living room.
“Yeah?” I call.
“I’m glad you’re here with me tonight, even if it’s in the other room.”
I keep quiet for a moment and then say, “Me, too.”
The temptation to go to him is strong. But I have to resist even if it means I might have to chain myself to the bed.
I’m about to undress to get under the covers when there’s a knock on the door. “Are you decent?”
“Yeah, come in.”
Gabriel walks into the room. He’s changed into clean sweats and is holding a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He places both on my nightstand, coming too close for safety.
“I made you a snack in case you got hungry.” He points at the plate of sliced fruit, cheeses, and crackers, which, as appetizing as it appears, doesn’t look half as delicious as the man standing before me.
“There are clean PJs in the drawer.”
