Toxic (Ruin, #2)(17)

“Sugar makes you crazy,” Gabe said, crossing his arms over his chest, “And yeah, it’s my nickname. Why? You into nicknames and role play? Shit like that get your engine going?”
“Ew, Gabe.” Kiersten walked over to us and put her hands up n the air. “I’m just going to stop you now before both feet end up in your mouth and you lose the ability to walk. Repeat after me, Hi…” She paused and looked at me. “What’s your name?”
“Saylor.”
“Hi, Saylor. Nice to meet you. I’m Gabe, and I promise I’m not as big of an * as you think I am. I promise to keep all parts in my pants, and I swear that if I attack you one more time, Kiersten has full permission to castrate me in my sleep.”
Gabe glared and held out his hand. “Saylor, it’s a pleasure meeting you.” His teeth were clenched so tight his jaw flexed. I’d never seen a guy with so many tattoos and piercings… never in my life would I ever imagine it would look so damn hot, but on him it did. And I wanted to hate him for it.
Because the opposite meant I liked it.
His face had just enough of a five o’clock shadow to be dangerous for any female with a pair of good working eyes. His dark as sin hair hung almost to his chin but had a slight curl to it, making him look like a damn pirate. A tattoo snaked around his neck, diving into the front of his shirt, and his arm muscles seemed to swell as I tentatively watched the swirl of tattoos almost move across his forearm. He was covered in what looked like lyrics on his right arm, and on his left, he had a few birds, more music notes, and a cross, everything was linked together. It should have looked stupid. But instead of looking stupid — like he was some sort of mismatched first grader — it looked sexy. Damn, damn, damn. I didn’t swear often, but Gabe made me want to live up to my name. Swear like a sailor? Um yeah, it was happening.
“So…” Gabe eyed me up and down.
I backed up until my legs touched the couch.
“You gonna just stand there all day staring at me, or are you and Lisa actually going to do homework?”
“Homework.” An arm looped within mine, and I looked up into Lisa’s amused gaze. “But first, we eat!”
“Olé!” Wes clapped and smacked Kiersten on the rear, while Lisa kept her arm firmly tucked in mine.
Gabe continued to stare, as if it was some sort of weird stare off where if I backed off first, I’d be the loser and have to do something really embarrassing, like admit he had a physical effect on my body.
“Shh,” Lisa said in a low voice. “No sudden movements. He’ll take it as a challenge and start chasing.”
“Me thinks she wants to be chased.” Gabe licked his lips.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah well me thinks the ink on your body has started seeping into that brain of yours… Tell me, do you enjoy harassing young women in order to get them into bed with you?”
Gabe tilted his head in thought, then raised an eyebrow as if the thought actually had merit.
“Come on.” Lisa tugged my arm. “You can help me set the table. I hope you don’t mind that we eat first. It’s my turn to cook and if I punk out, Gabe throws a fit.”
“Likes his food?” I asked, following her into the kitchen.
“No.” Lisa pulled out some taco shells. “He’s just really OCD about the dinner schedule.”
“Odd,” I admitted.
“Thank you.” Gabe’s breath was on my neck as he answered and then side-stepped me and started pulling salsa and sour cream out of the fridge, “Being called odd’s almost as great as being called sexy.”
“How do you figure?” I snorted, trying to ignore what his nearness was doing to my body at that moment. My breath hitched as another wave of desire hit me. Swear, it was like he was physically willing himself on me without even touching me.
Gabe’s hand paused on the ketchup as he ducked out from behind the fridge door and sneered at me; his mouth curved silkily around his white teeth, sending an involuntary shudder through me. “Odd can mean any number of things.” He closed the fridge.
There wasn’t anything I could put between us, no counter, no ketchup, nothing.
“Odd means I stand out. It’s an unintelligent way of saying I’m unique, different, special, one of a kind. Odd means in a lineup of twenty guys, your eyes would still find mine.” He thumped the block of cheese onto the counter. “Every.” Followed it with a jar of chopped tomatoes. “Damn.” And then the salsa. “Time.” Then he turned to face me, a smirk on his face so cocky that I wanted to launch myself at him. “So do I take it as a compliment that you call me odd? Hell yeah, I do. It means tonight when you close your eyes, you won’t be thinking about all those cookie cutter all-American guys with clean skin and baby blue eyes. But you will be thinking of me.” His grin turned predatory. “All me. And that—” He took two more steps toward me. I couldn’t back up. It was impossible to move. “—makes me happier than you’ll ever know.”
My breathing was ragged. I was an idiot. Plain and simple. I was allowing the bad boy with no future to play with my feelings, but it was unintentional. Everything about my reaction to him was uncontrollable. I couldn’t help but feel drawn, I couldn’t help but feel irritated, and I couldn’t help but want him to touch me one more time, even though it pissed me off as much as it turned me on.
“Move,” he whispered.
“Huh?” I shook the cobwebs of lust from my head.
He tapped my shoulder and gently pushed me to the side. “I gotta set the table. I wasn’t trying to be rude. Oh, and close your mouth. Gaping makes you look desperate.”