Can't Help Falling In Love (The Sullivans #3)(66)

It was the man, himself.

She’d never been a woman who chased after men, partly because she’d married so young, but mostly because it just wasn’t her personality. But it was pure female instinct that had her heading away from Summer’s school in the opposite direction of her house.

Ten minutes later, she rang Gabe’s doorbell, her heart pounding from how quickly she’d covered the pavement to get to him. But as she waited, she suddenly realized she had no idea whether he’d be there or not, whether he was out for a run or picking up bagels for breakfast. And when he didn’t immediately open the door, she could practically taste her disappointment.

She was just turning to head back home when the door opened.

“Megan?”

Clearly, the universe was doing her a favor, because not only was Gabe home, but he was wearing a towel wrapped low around his hips. She was still busy gaping at his sculpted muscles when he said, “Come in, sweetheart.”

His hand was warm on the small of her back. “Is everything okay?”

She finally noticed his concerned look at the way she’d shown up like this, out of breath and likely wild-eyed in her desperation to see him. To be with him.

“No,” she said with complete honesty.

“Is it Summer?”

His instant panic radiated out to her and she quickly put her hand over his racing heart to calm him. “Summer’s perfect. I just dropped her off at school.”

“Then what?” His hands were in her hair as he pulled her closer to search her face for clues.

“I missed you,” she whispered, shyly dropping her eyes at her stark admission. “Friday night. Sunday night.” She lifted her eyes to his. “I felt like I was going to go crazy if I didn’t see you again.” She put her arms around him and reveled in the strength beneath her fingertips.

“I ran zigzags back and forth around this city all morning,” he told her in a raw voice as his gaze dropped to her lips and then moved back up to her eyes. “It was either that or use my tools to break into your apartment and climb into your bed with you.”

A moment later, he’d picked her up and was carrying her into his bedroom. Megan was thrilled that he was as desperate as she was to pick up where they’d started—and never had a chance to finish—that weekend.

“How long do you have?” he murmured against her earlobe, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh just behind it.

“As long as you need,” she told him as she pressed her own kisses against the curve of his neck, one side of his broad shoulders.

His eyes lifted to hers, dark not only with passion, but also with something so much bigger, so much richer that just physical desire. “Forever, Megan.” The two words rumbled from his chest, catching her straight in the middle of hers. “That’s how long I’m going to need with you.”

Megan gasped at his response to her offhand reply. She’d just been talking about making love this morning, about a few stolen hours in his bed away from the work she needed to do for her clients. But he’d answered her as if she’d meant something entirely different.

Which, if she were being completely honest with herself, she had.

She tried to catch her breath as he lowered her to the bed. She knew he loved her, but for all the times he’d said those three sweet words to her in the past week, he’d never pressured her to return them. He knew she was trying, knew being with him was the biggest risk she’d taken in years. But now, as she lay beneath him on his big bed and he looked at her as no man ever had—as though she were the sun, the stars and everything in between—she wanted so badly to give him back what he so effortlessly had been giving her.

“I—” The words got caught in her throat, jammed by the resurgence of the fears she’d been pushing away, one by one, every time Gabe was with her. No, not just then. Every time she thought about him. Every time Summer said his name and smiled.

She licked her lips, tried again. “Gabe, I—.”

His beautiful mouth covered hers just as she faltered again, his kiss telling her he understood...and that he wasn’t going anywhere. She lost herself in the love he poured into the kiss, wrapping her arms and legs tighter around him, needing him to be so much closer.

“I know you are, and I’ll wait for you, Megan. As long as I need to wait.”

Thankfully, he didn’t wait for her to respond, didn’t let there be any uncomfortable silences between them. Instead, he reached for the hem of her tank top and pulled it up and over her head.

“Pink is my new favorite color,” he murmured when he saw her bra.

Without realizing it, she’d put on the bra that matched the panties he’d seen in her laundry basket that day he’d surprised her by coming to her apartment. But before she could admit to herself that she’d worn them on purpose—hoping for just this response—he was lowering his head to her and running his tongue over the upper swell of first one breast and then the other, just where the lace gave way to sensitive flesh.

She was panting and arching her back into him by the time he lifted his head. “You should know, I’ve had more than one fantasy about those pink panties.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

His hands faltered just as he reached for the button of her jeans. A moment later, he was unzipping and drawing them down her legs, pulling off her shoes and socks while he was at it.