Can't Help Falling In Love (The Sullivans #3)(49)

The rumble of his low voice was almost as much of a caress as his hands would have been across her skin. Worse, she wanted that kiss just as much as he did.

Which was why she pushed off the stool and said, “I’d better go see if the wash is dry.”

He put the dishtowel back on its hook. “I’ll help fold.”

So much for her escape.

There was nothing even remotely sexy about the laundry room. So then why, she wondered as they headed back into the small basement, was sex the only thing she could think about as she reached into the humid dryer and pulled out the clothes? Blushing at the thought of Gabe folding her underwear, she looked closely for it, but she didn’t see it anywhere.

“Need some help in there?”

She could hear the amusement in his voice as she remained with her head stuck in the dryer. Lord only knew what it was doing to her hair, which had been known to scare small children—and grown men—when humidity caught hold of it.

“Nope,” she said in an overly bright voice. “I’m just looking for something.”

“This?”

Megan finally lifted her head from the dryer and found Gabe standing behind her with pink lace dangling from one finger. As she watched him stroke the lace between his thumb and forefinger, she felt scalded from more than the heat still pouring out of the open dryer door.

“Where did you find them?”

“Stuck to a towel.” He pointed to the stack he’d already folded and put in her laundry basket.

“Oh. The lace does that sometimes.”

She knew she was standing there like a frizzy-haired idiot, babbling about absolutely nothing of importance. Why couldn’t she act normal around him? Cool and composed.

But she knew why.

All she could think about was kissing him.

Or rather, the pain and suffering of having to wait to kiss him until 12:01 a.m. so that he could keep his promise to her.

She was never going to make it. Not if she wanted to hold onto her sanity, anyway.

“I was thinking,” she said as she tried to nonchalantly fold one of Summer’s dresses, “the whole New Year’s thing is kind of overrated. People always make such a big deal about it, but it’s just like any other day.”

She could feel his eyes on her, even though he was folding another towel.

“And you’re right,” she continued in what she hoped was a light voice, “there are plenty of places in the world where it’s already past midnight. Like Paris. They’ve already had their fireworks there.”

She held her breath as she waited for him to grab her and pull her against him and take the kiss she was begging for. But all he did was take the crumpled mess she was making of Summer’s dress from her hands. Sixty seconds later he had not only the dress, but the rest of the clean clothes folded.

He cooked, he cleaned, he did laundry...and he knew exactly how to kiss her, where to touch her, how to take her to the edge and then back over it again before she had a chance to recover from her first hit of pleasure.

“Let’s drop this off upstairs.” He picked up the blue basket as if she hadn’t been hinting with everything she had for that kiss. “And then we can head over to my place.”

Megan was a breath away from knocking the laundry basket from his hands and launching herself at him. But it was one thing if Gabe seduced her into letting him steal a kiss after midnight to celebrate the start of another year. It was another thing entirely if she was the one begging for his kisses.

Especially when nothing had changed. She still couldn’t let herself fall in love with him. And she certainly couldn’t let Summer get attached to him.

Loving a man like Gabe and then losing him...well, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to recover from that. No matter how strong her mother—and everyone else—always said she was.

Fortunately, the roof of his building was sure to be crowded with all the other residents out watching the fireworks. Because despite knowing better, Megan simply couldn’t trust herself to be strong when she was alone with Gabe.

They’d watch the bright lights in the sky, they’d press their lips together once in a crowd of revelers, and then she’d go home. To her own bed.

Alone, thank you very much.

Chapter Nineteen

Don’t psych yourself out.

~ from “Firefighting 101” ~

Thirty minutes later, Megan stepped out of the elevator into Gabe’s penthouse apartment in Potrero Hill and her mouth fell open. He slipped her coat from her shoulders, but she was so busy taking in the views from every window that she barely noticed.

“These views are incredible.” She turned to him. “How do you ever do anything but stare out the windows?”

“I thought you might like it,” he said as he moved across the room to stand beside her. “It’s usually clear like this in the winter, but in the summer—”

“—it must be like floating on a cloud of fog.”

He’d wanted to kiss her at least a hundred times since she’d opened her front door, and now, as she stood staring dreamily out his living room window, Gabe was working like hell to stick to his plan and keep his promise.

It was just that she looked so good in his house. So right. Despite the great bones of the building, the views and location, he’d always felt like something was missing.