“Everything okay with you and Taylor?” Isaac asked, placing the chairs up on the tables.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“It looked like I interrupted something in the office earlier.”
I slammed the glasses down on the countertop rougher than I intended but didn’t answer.
“I didn’t think you liked her.”
That was a complicated question. “I don’t want to like her.”
“Are you going to do something about it?”
I paused cleaning to look at Isaac. “That’s the question.”
I’d thought Taylor was spoiled when we met, but now I knew she was selfless, the best kind of person and the worst. I’d damage her. I’d destroy her. I couldn’t do that to her. I was no good. Everyone knew that.
Chapter Nine
TAYLOR
His hands traveled down my skin, goosebumps erupting in their wake, over my puckered nipples, my quivering stomach, until his shoulders spread my legs and his fingers parted my folds. He licked from my opening to my clit as I fisted the sheets beneath my hands. Nothing had ever felt so good. I dropped my head back and closed my eyes, focusing on his tongue, his fingers slowly entering me, and the scruff of his face on the soft skin of my inner thighs. It was a delicious combination of soft, wet, and rough.
His fingers pumped inside me at a steady rhythm and his tongue circled my clit, and when he sucked hard, I exploded for him. “Gabe!” He continued until my tremors subsided. Then he moved back up the bed, placing kisses on my body until he reached my mouth. He gathered me in his arms, cradling me close, his lips on the hair by my temple. His voice was soft and husky from sleep as he said, “I love—”
I jerked upright in bed, but I was alone, my body humming with need. In my dream there was an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, openness, yearning to be close to someone. We’d both been naked in my dream—nothing between us. I’d never felt anything that intense. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly chilly. Did Gabe think that kiss was a mistake?
I left without saying goodbye last night because I was afraid of his reaction. What if he didn’t feel the same way after the kiss we’d shared in his office? Was I alone in the intimacy of that moment? I’d revealed my innermost fears and secret shame to the one person who’d thought the worst of me since the day we’d met. But he’d been understanding, sweet, supportive, and then there was that kiss. Had I ever felt so cherished? It wasn’t rough or passionate. It was nothing like I’d expected from him. Instead, he’d cradled my face, he’d slowly lowered his lips to mine, my whole body vibrating with wanting, his breath mingling with mine. And when our lips finally touched in the lightest, barest of touches, it was like something had exploded in my brain—a sense of rightness and completeness.
But that couldn’t be right. No one had intense feelings like that in a first kiss with someone they’d just met. It had to be his unexpected reaction to what I’d told him. I’d expected recrimination, harsh words, someone to reiterate what I felt—that what I was doing was wrong. I’d made a mistake moving here. I was selfish. And when he’d said and done the opposite, endorphins rushed to my brain, making me lightheaded.
He’d probably step back. He’d tell me to stop coming to the bar. I leaned against my headboard. I should feel relieved. But I didn’t. I felt bereft. As if he’d been covering me with his warm body heat and had removed himself, leaving me cold and alone. I shivered again, pulling the blankets tighter around me, sinking into the soft pillows.
I couldn’t be with anyone, not when I had a brother to care for, a family that needed me. I didn’t need anyone tying me to the city. Not when I had to go back. I’d come here to experience freedom—to do something on my own. There was no way I could stay, no matter how much I loved the city, how strongly this man affected me. My time here was temporary. My brother would always need me. This was a break from my real life—the only one I could ever have.
It wasn’t a hardship. I loved Caleb. Even when we couldn’t play the way other brothers and sisters did—when I couldn’t go to the same schools as him—when I couldn’t hang out with my friends because I was needed at home. We’d been lucky that Caleb wasn’t violent like I’d heard other kids with his condition could be. He was expressive and loving even though he couldn’t speak.
I picked up the phone to call my mom to check in and make sure there wasn’t a reason Caleb walked out of the house alone, after not having done that since he was a kid. Glancing at the clock, I noted it was only seven A.M. here, but I was an hour behind my parents’ time zone so they should be awake.
“Taylor?” Mom’s voice came over the line.
“It’s me.” I should be at home, not calling on the phone.
“Why are you calling so early?”
“I wanted to make sure Caleb was okay.” Her call last night had rocked me. She’d reminded me of what I’d left to come here and live on my own. Was this opportunity worth leaving behind loved ones who depended on me?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you last night. I shouldn’t
