Falling for Hope Page 8

  When he saw her, he bent and grazed her lips with his own. “Having a nice day so far?”

  “Yes. I am.” She smacked her lips, trying to get the taste to overpower the smell, and it seemed to work. “Quick. Let’s get out of here. I need a proper kiss.” He complied, grabbing her hand and leading her down the steps of the library, through a line of picketers that had formed over the course of the week. Holding signs that said, “Protect the brains of our children” and “We want our Constitutional rights” were people of various levels of boredom. Mr. Callaway had said most of them were probably being paid to stand there, but the little man, the leader of the group who’d come to Hope’s desk was yelling at everyone who walked in the library in an outraged voice.

  At the sidewalk, Gabe scooped her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly, oblivious to the protesters turned spectators.

  “Better?” He smirked a little as he asked her that, flashing a small dimple in one cheek before leading her down the street to the bistro they’d eaten at on their first date. It had become a regular occurrence, and the wait staff knew them by now.

  “Much.”

  “How was dinner with your parents?” She could hear the hurt in his voice, and as she sat, she grabbed his hand.

  Hope felt contrite. They’d almost had a fight about him not going, and it had turned into a disaster, and she was so mad at her mother, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak to her again without losing it. “I’m so sorry I didn’t take you, Gabe. Please forgive me. It was positively awful, and I don’t ever want to go over there alone again. I will happily take you with me every week from now on.”

  The hurt in his voice was replaced with concern. “What happened?”

  She wanted to hide her face in her hands and not look at him, while she told him how awful her mother had made her feel, but that would just prolong the inevitable. “I had told my mother about you, but she apparently didn’t believe me, because she had invited a man over for dinner. As a set up.”

  He looked confused. “A set up?”

  “A potential suitor.”

  His back was suddenly rigid. “Oh.”

  “It was awful, Gabe.”

  “What was he like?”

  “What?” He wanted to know what his competition was like? As if there was any competition to be had. “It doesn’t matter. It was just all so…creepy. Mom had dinner by candlelight, and my parents were both there, she was egging it all on, like she wanted us to get it on right there, on the table top. Soooo awkward…”

  The waitress came to take orders, and Gabe ordered sandwiches and water before turning his gaze back to Hope. His wide mouth twitched with anger. “Did he try anything with you?”

  She waved his question away. “No. I told him I was seeing someone, and when I told him it was serious, he backed off.”

  Gabe seemed to relax a little, but his hand had tightened on hers considerably. “Why didn’t your mother believe you? About me?”

  “Oh…a couple of years ago, I was trying to get out of something, and I lied and told her I had a sick boyfriend that I had to take care of, and she caught me in the lie. It was embarrassing, to say the least. But not half as bad as last night. I may never speak to her again.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  She thought. What do you tell your boyfriend about the hot guy your mom tried to fix you up with? “Well, he was nice looking, and seemed intelligent enough. But he had this air of desperation about him that was just…” She wrinkled her nose. “Off-putting. Who accepts a strange woman’s invitation to meet her daughter? And he smelled funny…”

  Gabe barked out a laugh, actual laughter, and the sound rippled through Hope like a mountain stream. She smiled at him. “What? He did. I haven’t been able to get the smell out of my nose since.” She sniffed in illustration. “Besides,” she squeezed his hand. “He’s not you.”

  “So, you’re not going to put me off going to your parents anymore, are you?” Gabe actually looked hopeful, a rare emotion for him.

  “Nope. You’re in like Flynn.”

  Puzzlement crossed his features, but he didn’t question it. She giggled to herself that he wasn’t familiar with most of her slang, but found it endearing. They ate their sandwiches and returned to the library.

  Gabe walked her up the steps, ignoring the press of strangers crowding them, and said, “I’m waiting here for you. I’ll sit in the corner of the children’s room. My spot.” He lowered his face to hers. “Since I can’t kiss you while you’re working though, I’ll do it now, before we go in.” She closed her eyes in anticipation, and he swooped down, capturing her mouth with his. His arms came around her waist and pulled her close, while his mouth opened around hers.

  Hope was aware that Damien’s smell was gone, completely overpowered by the essence of Gabe. His sweet, spicy smell, the sweet tart taste, the rhythm of his breaths, the feel of him under her hands. She was prisoner to Gabriel Love. And she loved it.

  Too soon, he broke the kiss, and smirked at her discomfiture, as she straightened her hair before going in to work. He whistled a jaunty tune as he followed her to the children’s room to take his customary seat in the corner.

  Gabe adored watching Hope. He liked watching her work. He liked watching her cook. He liked watching her eat. He liked watching her interact with people. He liked watching her when she was aroused. This afternoon, he was going to watch her work, and play with children, then he was going to go home with her, watch her cook, eat and get aroused. That was his plan anyway.

  Unfortunately, the library patrons were out to keep him from enjoying himself. He watched as Hope got dressed-down by a supervisor for not shelving books in a timely manner after story day. Then a parent got mad at her for getting on to their children. Then he helped her to find a parent who had dropped their child off in the children’s room before disappearing to another part of the library altogether. Then that little man from outside had come in to spew hateful words at her. She handled him remarkably well, her entire body emanating self-assurance. But when she’d spoken with her supervisor about it, he’d brushed her off, making her shoulders droop visibly. It wasn’t a good day, and when it was over, Hope seemed to be relieved.

  “Let’s go home, and let me rub your feet, shall we?”

  Her features melted into a grateful smile. “That sounds wonderful.”

  Gabe felt a pull to this woman. She obviously had some self-esteem issues, but she hid them well. He was curious about her parents though, and wanted to see exactly what role they played in her sense of self. From what he heard, they were mostly to blame. Hope was a delightful creature however, and he wanted to do everything in his power to reassure her, even if it meant planting images in her head. All day, he’d been trying to send her visions of herself as a capable, intelligent, sexy woman, and at times it seemed to help. But he couldn’t overcome whatever had imbedded itself deep in her psyche.

  At home, she put a frozen lasagna into the oven to cook, and then settled her bare feet in his lap on the couch. He took them in hand and began rubbing small circles in the soles, while she groaned her encouragement.

  “Do you have very many days like that?”

  She kept her eyes closed, but shook her head. “Only during full moon phases. It seems to bring out the nasty in people.”

  “You work wonderfully with people, Hope. I really admire that about you. You’re so patient with the children and their parents.” That was one of the things he like about watching her work, was seeing her with the children. She was calm and assertive, and she had her quirky, playful side that they children really seemed to love and admire. He couldn’t help but picture her as a superb mother, and the thought alone made his chest swell and tighten.

  “Well, today wasn’t my best day, but I usually enjoy my job. Like everything else, it has its ups and downs.” Gabe’s eyes fixated on her bra showing through the hole between the buttons on her blouse when she heaved a tortured sigh.

  This woman m
ade Gabe’s thoughts turn from familial to carnal in a matter of seconds, and his blood rushed to his nether regions.

  He felt the need to distract himself, and something had been niggling the back of his mind since lunch. “Tell me more about this man your mom tried to fix you up with.” He focused on her instep and the arch of her foot, relishing the moans that did nothing to ease his groin. “You said he smelled funny?”

  “Yeah…” She drew out the word, and Gabe couldn’t get his mind off the sensual nature of the woman whose feet he stroked. His fingers continued circling her arches. “He smelled like sulfur.”

  He stilled. “What did you say?” It couldn’t be. Well, why not? Of course it could… The Deceiver had made a play with the others, of course he wouldn’t stop. Gabe had been warned.

  “Like burned matches. Like smoke. It stank, and it stuck with me all morning.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Damien something or other.”

  It was hi. He’d come for her. His Hope. Panic gripped his insides, a wholly unfamiliar feeling, and he struggled to regain control. “Don’t see him again.”

  Her eyes were still closed, even though he’d stopped rubbing her feet the moment she’d said the man smelled like sulfur. “I’m not, baby. I’m with you.”

  The term of endearment gave him a strange swelling feeling in his stomach, but he pushed her feet off his lap, forcing her eyes open. “Promise me, Hope. He’s dangerous.”

  Her eyes were glazed, in a foggy haze of interrupted pleasure. “Of course, Gabe. I won’t see him again. Do you know him?”

  The strange selfdoubt he’d felt at lunch when she told him about the man at her parents’ dinner didn’t even compare to the tumultuous upheaval he felt right this minute. She wasn’t even his yet, and the Deceiver was already making moves on her. He should have been expecting it. He had been expecting it. He should have been more vigilant.

  Gabe looked at Hope and the depth of self-loathing he felt at her innocent gaze on him nearly drove him to his knees. He’d let her go to her parent’s house by herself, and HE had been there. He’d probably touched her. Dear Lord, what if he’d taken her then? What would he have done? He stood and started pacing the small living room, lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to Hope’s words until she finally started yelling at him.

  “Gabe! What’s going on?” Her hands on his elbow stopped his pacing.

  Turning to her, he pulled her close. “I almost lost you.” He breathed in the warmth of the top of her head, wishing he could put a smell to the sensation of breathing her in.

  “Okay, Mr. Melodramatic. Talk to me. How do you know him, and why is he so dangerous?”

  He wasn’t prepared to have this conversation. Not yet. If he was going to tell her about the Deceiver, he had to be ready to tell her all of it, and he wasn’t.

  Holding her shoulders, he made sure she was looking into his eyes. “Just promise me, if you ever see him again, you will call for me. With your mind. I’m not sure if it’ll work, but you have to try. Please?” Gabe had lost control of his mind, it was careening into darkness, all imaginable evils were conspiring against him and Hope. That’s how it seemed anyway. He was helpless to stop it, all he could do was stay with her.

  Her eyes bounced back and forth between his, searching for answers he wasn’t willing to give, and she finally nodded. “Of course.”

  Gabe nodded back to her. “I’m staying here, with you.”

  Hope’s eyes widened, and he saw her pupils dilate. Gabe realized what she was thinking, and tried to stop the train of her thoughts. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “No, Mr. Bossy Britches. You’ll sleep in my bed.” She held up her hand to stop his protests, speaking with finality. “And we’re going past second base.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “What? You don’t know what the bases are?”

  He was amused at the fact he’d somehow added another clue to her perceptions of his identity. Relieved at the sudden change in his own countenance, he sighed. Gabe was well aware that she imagined him as some sort of supernatural creature. He’d been in her dreams, and flashes that she’d unwittingly sent him while they sat together, illustrated perfectly that she knew he was different. Of course, he was far from the shape-shifters she imagined. He’d read most of the books on her Kindle device, and found the escapist merit in the stories. But he was no werewolf.

  “First base is kissing. Second base is fondling my breasts. Third base is in the pants. And a home run is going all the way.” She was smirking at him, and his mind was consumed with her mouth. He was grateful for the diversion.

  An interesting metaphor. “Baseball?”

  “It was obviously devised by a bunch of guys in some locker room, but it’s a valid comparison, don’t you think?” She snuggled her body next to his, and he draped his arm around her shoulders, trying to figure a way out of this. He had a hard enough time controlling himself staying above her waist. If he went any further, he might lose himself completely.

  “And you want me to go into your pants?” His gaze was focused on the top of her head, looking at the roots of her hair, swirling around. He couldn’t resist touching its softness. So he did, his fingers idly twirling a bit of it around, feeling the silky texture.

  “Like nothing else,” she whispered. “Kissing you is amazing, not like anybody I’ve ever kissed before, and I know that everything else will blow my mind.” He felt a sinful pride at her words. “But I’m not a teenager anymore, and I’m tired of this invisible line in the sand that we don’t cross. It’s…frustrating.”

  He understood the frustration but had seen it as a test he’d felt he was passing with flying colors. His brothers had told him that women were different now. And The Boss had told him to seek his brothers out for advice. He hadn’t, but they’d given it willingly enough, anyway. Maybe he could give it an attempt.

  “So, you’re seeking a release of some sort?” She had stopped breathing, and nodded. “Then let’s go see what we can do to remedy the situation.” The eager look in her eyes when she stood, brought a smile to his lips. If he could do this without losing his own mind, then it might go a little further towards fulfilling The Boss’s plan.

  Two weeks passed, with Gabe attempting to sleep on the couch, and Hope insisting they share her bed. He did it to keep her safe from the threat of The Deceiver, but Gabe was enjoying himself. He knew that something was happening to him, but it was so gradual, he wouldn't have known if he weren't looking for the signs. He enjoyed Hope's company. He felt a desire to see her happy. Her laughter was a balm to his inner being. He actually felt like he had an inner being, just born, craving sustenance. And Hope was providing it. His laughter was genuine now. She made him laugh at times, and sometimes, he'd be sitting there, looking at her or thinking about her, and he realized he was smiling. And he was lusty. Lord, he was lusty. He wanted her with every fiber of his being.

  The first time he’d gone to third base with her had nearly undone him, as he had known it would. They had been laying in her bed kissing, when he’d touched her. Her whimpers and moans encouraged him, leading him into uncharted territories. He’d felt a little foolish at first, not really knowing what he was doing, but she was wet and eager, and he’d continued until he felt her spasm around his fingers with an eruption of sound and sensations. She’d been sated, and slept well afterward, he watching her, completely enraptured at what he’d done to her.

  But was that enough? He still couldn't taste her. He wanted to know what her creamy soft skin tasted like. He craved to taste her lips. He wanted to smell her honey blond hair. He wanted to use the restroom, to get hungry, to sleep, to dream.

  He had the emotions. Where was the physical stuff?

  Her mother had called on Wednesday to cancel the family dinner the next night. Hope’s father was sick with a stomach virus, and they didn’t want Hope to catch it, although Gabe knew that Hope’s mother had suggested a stomach bug might just jump start
her weight loss. He could feel the relief radiating off her in waves, when she hung up the phone, and as usual, he wondered what it was about her family that made her so reticent to let him meet them?

  One Saturday, they were lounging in her bed. Hope seemed to enjoy her sheets, and Gabe found himself enjoying just laying around with her. They were both dressed in nightclothes, her attempts at seduction not lost on him, with the silk nightgown she was wearing. He’d admitted to liking it earlier in the week, and she’d worn it every night since. Gabe couldn’t seem to stop running his hands over the fabric, and she practically purred under his touch. As she would term it, it was a win-win situation. Except he knew she was willing to go further. At this point, he was exhibiting super-human self control. As badly as he wanted to, he had yet to rip the thing off her in the night and bury himself inside her.

  “What do you want to do today?” Hope had already gotten out of bed to feed the cats, returning without them to snuggle while they ate. The collective purrs of the felines in the kitchen resonated throughout the tiny apartment.

  “Something you enjoy. What are my options?” He countered. His index finger continued to absently run under the strap of her gown, fondling the silkiness.

  “Do you like art?”

  “Most of it.” He didn’t care for some of the more modern stuff, but he was curious to see what she liked. Everything about Hope fascinated him.

  “Cool. I want to show you something.”

  After they dressed, Hope and Gabe ended up at the Fine Art Museum. Like the other city buildings that Gabe had noticed, this one looked very generic on the outside, but when they entered, he could tell that some effort had been put into the interior of the building. A recent remodel was evident by the sterile smell, accompanied by the lemony scent of wood polish. He looked around, curiously.