Most of All You: A Love Story(48)

I turned my head, my heart beating so loudly in my own ears I was sure he could hear that, too, even from where he stood. “It’s only fair, I suppose,” I murmured.

“What’s that?”

“Now we’ve both seen each other half-naked.”

Gabriel tilted his head, assessing me in some mysterious way. He suddenly turned and walked back toward his room. I stood rooted to the spot, confused, when he returned just as quickly as he’d left, pulling a T-shirt over his head. He walked toward me, coming to stand directly in front of where I stood. His expression was slightly shy, slightly teasing. “I hope … that if we see each other naked again, it won’t be a job, or an accident. It will be because we both want it, and because it means something.”

What?

Visions swirled through my mind, unbidden: tangled limbs and twisted sheets. Heat filled my veins, blood pumping between my legs. It was too much. It was … out of my control and it scared me. I didn’t want to think of Gabriel that way, couldn’t think of Gabriel that way. In truth, had never thought of any man that way. “Mean something?” My voice was a mere whisper.

He nodded, his expression going serious, his eyes filled with sudden gravity. His hand slowly moved up to my hair, and he brushed a piece back from my face. His hand lingered, his knuckle brushing gently down my cheekbone. My breath hitched at the subtle touch. His full lips parted slightly, those angel eyes moving over my features as if he was memorizing me, memorizing the moment. I was spellbound, caught once again in his gaze. No one had ever looked at me the way Gabriel was right then, not in all my life.

“Yes.” It was all he said, leaving me to try to comprehend his meaning. But of course getting naked always meant something. A bribe, a paycheck, a coercion, a means to an end … only I knew very well Gabriel didn’t mean any of those things, and it was impossible to convince myself he could. I already knew better. And I didn’t want to think about what getting naked would mean to Gabriel because the very idea filled me with terror and an aching, needy want. But mostly terror.

I turned back to the sparrow, a jerky movement as I pivoted on my crutches. “Y-your father, he was a stone carver, too?”

“Eloise.”

I clenched my eyes shut, refusing to turn my face back to his. “He was very good.”

Gabriel let out a very small sigh. I didn’t know if I had imagined disappointment in it or not. “Yes, he was very good.” His hand brushed my bare shoulder as he reached past me to pick up the sparrow. His touch left a blaze of heat on that small patch of skin, and I wanted to rub it away but I didn’t. Couldn’t. I turned back to find him studying the small bird. He had a smile on his lips. “When I was eight, I went away to summer camp. I was nervous to sleep away from my family. There was a tree right outside my bedroom window, and sparrows would perch in it and sing. My dad carved this guy so I could bring one of the sparrows along. So I’d have a little piece of home with me—a little token of comfort.”

I watched him as he spoke, a wistful happiness in his expression, and I wondered what it’d be like to have memories that made you feel like that. Memories that brought happiness instead of fear and loneliness and sorrow. And I couldn’t help wondering at the depths of Gabriel’s despair when he’d finally made it home after all those years of being locked in a dark, lonely basement, only to experience the loss of that happiness all over again. “He sounds like such a good man,” I whispered.

His eyes met mine. “Yeah, he was the best.” The stark love in his expression when he spoke of his father jolted something inside me, and for a breath of a moment I found myself afraid for him—for his vulnerability and pure heart. Afraid of how the world would hurt him. But that was ludicrous. He’d already been hurt—in the most unfathomable way possible. So how did he retain that gentleness? The shy tenderness? How did he still wear his heart on his sleeve the way he did? And why would he want to? I couldn’t begin to understand.

Silence lingered between us, clunky and awkward as if we were both waiting for the other one to speak. Finally, I nodded. “Well, good night, Gabriel.” I started to turn.

He took a step forward. “Aren’t you hungry? You missed dinner. I could make you something.”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m just … extra tired today.” I turned. I didn’t really feel tired. What I felt was confused and scared, and most of all, deeply worried that I’d begun to fall in love with Gabriel. Oh, Ellie, you fool. You stupid fool.

That night I didn’t dream about dark corridors that grew gradually smaller. Instead I dreamed about moonlight on bare skin, hands that caressed, a mouth that explored all the secret places of my body, and angel eyes in the dark. I woke heated and panting, a cry of pleasure on my lips, reaching for someone who wasn’t there.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Don’t stop yourself from dreaming. Dreams are what keep our hearts alive.

Lemon Fair, the Queen of Meringue

ELLIE

I slept in the next morning. I’d tossed and turned all night, unable to find sleep after my erotic dreams, and I simply couldn’t drag myself out of bed at sunrise. When I finally did limp out of my room after a quick shower, I turned in the direction of the garage, where I could hear Gabriel working. “Good morning.”

He looked over his shoulder, his smile immediate. “Good morning.”