In the Dark (The Rules #2)(7)

Her jaw drops open. “You don’t?”

“That surprises you? Do you get along with your parents?”

“Most of the time my mom makes me crazy.”

“Exactly. Both of my parents make me crazy.” I lean my head back again, contemplating the stars. “My mom’s pushy. We went to dinner with this other family she just met. They had a daughter a little younger than me.”

“How old are you?” Lucy asks.

“Twenty-one,” I say to the sky. “Anyway, my mother wanted me to pair up with this girl.”

“Oh yeah?” She sounds disinterested and I chance a glance at her, see the way she’s watching me. I don’t think she likes that I’m talking about this, which is good. Real good. It means she might care. At least a little bit.

“Yeah. So I tried to pretend I was into her but I wasn’t.” I look at Lucy, who stares back me, irritation written all over her face. “You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because all I could think about, the entire night, is…” I reach and grab hold of her leg, my fingers sliding down her smooth calf until I lock them around her ankle, giving it a tug. “You.”

His long fingers curl around my ankle, pulling me to him at the same moment he says he’d been thinking of me the entire time he was with that other girl.

Me. He thought about me.

I’m so shocked I don’t even protest as he yanks me close. I practically dunk my head under water as he drags me across the hot tub and I end up in his arms, my legs having nowhere to go but around him as I bend them at the knees. I’m basically straddling him, his hands resting on my waist and holding me there, his face in mine as he smiles down at me.

“Gotcha where I want you,” he murmurs as my gaze snags on his magical lips. And they are magical, full and soft looking. I bet he can kiss like a master, not that I’ve been kissed by a lot of guys. I’ve done my fair share of making out but it’s been a while.

Too long really.

“So was everything you just said a trick to get me in your arms?” I ask. More like on his lap. I don’t know where to put my hands so I rest them on his broad shoulders, an electrical current bouncing between us the moment I make contact with his body. He’s warm and hard, his skin smooth and damp and I run my hands along his shoulders, noting how his eyelids waver the slightest bit when I touch him like that.

“Not a trick.” He slowly shakes his head, his hands moving, shifting across my back, resting just above the band of my bikini bottom. I bet my thighs look like fat blobs on either side of his hips. I bet my stomach has a few rolls too, what with the way I’m sitting.

But he’s staring at my face, his gaze locked on my mouth. He’s not paying attention to my thighs or my stomach and he looks like…he looks like he wants to kiss me.

“Then what was it?” I ask, not sure what I’m even asking about anymore. My brain’s all muddled, being this close to Mr. GQ. We haven’t really talked, I don’t really know him, and I’m already on his lap. Mama would say I’m acting totally shameless.

Maybe she’s right, but I sort of don’t care right now.

“You’ve been making me crazy since the moment I got here,” he admits just as he dips his head and gently presses his mouth to my neck.

My eyes fall closed. Oh, God. He’s barely touching me with his mouth but it’s enough to send a sizzle of heat through my veins. His lips are damp, his breath hot as he rains slow, sweet kisses across my skin and I clutch his shoulders hard, my fingers digging into the firm muscles there.

“Wh-what do you mean?” My voice is shaky, as is the rest of me. His hands run up and down my back slowly, fingers toying with the ties of my bikini and it would take nothing, absolutely nothing for him to tug on the bow and undo it.

Not that I want him to. No way. I mean, yeah, his mouth on my throat and his hands on my body feel amazing but I don’t even know this guy. He’s moving way too fast. Waaaay too fast.

I need to tell him to stop. Now.

“Gabe…” My voice drifts when he lifts his head, his sleepy gaze meeting mine before he kisses me. Just leans in and rests his mouth on mine, silencing me and I have no choice but to respond. Like I could stop myself from responding. His lips are just as soft as I imagined and he tastes just as good as I thought he would. Minty, like he just had some gum, but with a bite of alcohol just beneath. Tequila, if my taste buds are on point, which I think they are.

“Teasing me while you laid out by the pool,” he murmurs against my lips after he breaks the kiss, his breath a warm, shiver-inducing gust upon my skin. “Taunting me in this skimpy little bikini. I imagined peeling you out of it more than once.”

“You did?” I sound breathless. I feel breathless. His words conjure up all sorts of images, things I never thought I’d want to do with a guy who’s really just a stranger. One night stands aren’t a part of my repertoire. Kissing, a little bit of groping, that’s all I’ve ever experienced. My mother scared me all through high school, insisting I didn’t want to get pregnant like she did—yes she had me at sixteen, there’s some birth control for you—and I listened. Oh, how I listened.

And once I started community college, I worked full time and took night classes. I had no time for serious dating. Boys became a thing of my distant pass. I was so focused on getting my associates degree and getting into a good university, I couldn’t let a boy distract me.