Heartbeat Page 14

  “I’ll try.” Nerves weren’t making it easy. Being in Gabe’s company like this, just the two of us, was new to me. Of course Viktor was waiting outside, but I was doing my best not to think about that.

  “I like you, if you haven’t noticed,” he told me.

  I toyed with the stem of the wine glass. “I thought you wanted me to relax.”

  “So does that mean you like me too?”

  Oh boy. Breathe, Chloe. “You know I do.”

  “Good, then let’s forget about everyone else.”

  “You’re awfully good at being able to do that,” I said, wishing for some of his cool calm.

  “Do what?” he asked.

  I liked that he hadn’t dressed up tonight. He was wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged him in all the right places. His leather jacket, which he’d thrown over the back of the chair, gave his outfit a rock-star edge. I was beginning to appreciate that he wasn’t actually aware of how rock-star he truly was.

  “Not worry about everyone else,” I said.

  “You don’t spend every waking hour worrying what the public thinks about you, either.”

  I opened my mouth and decided on a sip of wine while I gathered my thoughts. “I don’t. But when you grow up in the public eye, you’re always conscious of it.”

  “Sounds exhausting.”

  “It is!” I laughed. “There was a moment when I turned twenty-one that I actually believed I could do whatever I want and not worry about the ‘innocent’ label everyone loves to give me anymore. Now I’m realizing it’s even harder than it used to be. I’m being judged by adult standards, yet a lot of people still don’t want to see me grown up.”

  “Do you really care what people think?” His gray eyes were dark and I couldn’t quite read them. It reminded me of the night we first met, when I’d had no way of knowing what he was thinking.

  I played with the glass again, feeling awkward. “Yeah, I guess I do, a bit. Even people I shouldn’t care about like our director, Malcolm. When he implied that I was sleeping around, his judgment hurt and—”

  “Hang on a sec. Back up. Your director commented on your personal life?”

  I gripped the glass. “Yeah, a couple of times. It was awkward.”

  “Awkward? That’s fucked up. Sounds like a creep.”

  Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I liked the way Gabe wasn’t so easygoing when he felt the need to protect me.

  “Creep is not really the right word. He wears old-man sweaters and he’s not that old—more like weird.”

  “Sounds like an asshole to me. So you’ve got to go overseas with this guy soon and film in Europe?”

  “Yeah, for a month. But don’t worry. I’m in nearly every scene with Faith and she seemed ready to attack him when he brought up the subject of my personal life.”

  He took a drink of his beer but I didn’t miss the wry grin. “I like Faith.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. You sound surprised.”

  “She’s . . . tough. Not everyone gets along with her.”

  “Yeah, but what you see is what you get with Faith, and I like that about her. It’s why I like you, too.”

  I tried not to gape and cleared my throat. “You think I’m like Faith?” We were so different it wasn’t funny. Aside from the age gap and the obvious differences in our appearance, I was like a fluffy kitten and she was a fierce tiger.

  “You don’t see it, do you?”

  “See what?”

  “You’re both honest to a fault, loyal, you have a great work ethic, and that spark that lights you up is why audiences love you. And you’re both tough. She’s older than you so she’s more comfortable with it, but it’s there in you too.”

  “There’s tough and there’s tough. If Faith didn’t like you, she’d crush you in an instant. I’m so nice I’d probably compliment you, then avoid you altogether if I could.”

  “Bullshit. You stood up to that reporter.”

  I dropped my gaze at the admiration shining in his eyes. I didn’t feel as if I deserved it. “That was a one-off, trust me.”

  “Alright, how did you respond when your director commented on your personal life?”

  “Well, after I got over the shock I might have told him to back off,” I admitted.

  Gabe grinned. “I bet you did. Chloe, you and Faith are more alike than you think.”

  “But she sleeps around! I’d never do that.” I cringed. “Not that I’m judging her,” I rushed on.

  “I know. Look, I’m not saying you’re exactly the same. It’s pretty obvious when it comes to relationships that she’s been hurt pretty badly at some point.”

  “You think so?”

  He shrugged. “Why else would she always want to be the one in control? It’s to protect herself.”

  I sat back in my seat, impressed. “You know, I think you’d make a good writer. You’re very observant.”

  “Maybe. I learned young to pay attention to people.”

  “Is that because it was just you and your mom?” From what I’d discovered so far, Gabe had grown up quicker than other kids. The admiration he had for his single mom was evident in the way he spoke about her. Unfortunately due to their situation, he’d been forced to fend for himself a lot when his mom was working night shift at the hospital.

  Gabe watched me for a long moment before he spoke again. “It made it easier for people to like me.”

  “To like you? Why would anyone not like you?” Gosh, Gabe was one of the easiest people to get along with I had met.

  He stared hard at me again. I wondered what was so important that he would look at me so seriously, so I waited patiently for him to speak.

  “Can I ask you don’t repeat what I’m about to tell you?”

  I blinked. “Of course. Gabe, if you’re not comfortable you don’t have to—”

  “I was the dumb kid at school.”

  “What?”

  “You know the one: the slowest in the class, the kid everyone had to wait on to catch up with whatever we were learning.”

  “You’re not dumb.” Gabe was so full of life, so talented! How could anyone call him dumb?

  A hint of a smile touched his lips. “That’s what my mom said, too. If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have found out until I was an adult that I have dyslexia.”

  “You’re dyslexic?”

  Gabe’s gaze held a challenge. “Yes.”

  “That’s nothing to be ashamed of! And it doesn’t mean you’re dumb. I don’t know a lot about it, but what I do know is that it has nothing to do with intelligence. It’s a processing disorder.”

  “All of that’s true, but try telling that to a kid who can’t read the same as his peers and who is constantly getting left behind. I still have to re-read things and I’m a lot slower than everyone else, even as an adult.”

  “I’ve seen you drum. You’re not slow. It’s not like you have a desk job, anyway. Plus, there are plenty of famous, successful people who have it. Didn’t Steven Spielberg get diagnosed as an adult? And Tom Cruise?”

  “Yeah. Richard Branson has it, too. Don’t think I’m making excuses for myself. You asked why everyone likes me, that’s why. I learned to make up for what I lacked. I’m good at avoiding attention and when I can’t, there’s always a well-timed joke.”

  “Gabe.” I waited until he met my eyes and then reached for his hand. Our fingers brushed and I felt that same frisson of awareness that pulsed through me every time we touched. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

  He nodded silently. His honesty made me fall for him that little bit more.

  “Gabe,” I said again. “I know we’re still getting to know each other, but can I tell you what I see? I see a man who has a unique energy—”

  Gabe shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Hear me out. I’ve seen it. It’s like people are drawn to you, Gabe.”

  He shook his head. “People aren’t drawn to me, Chloe.
That’s Johnnie.”

  “That’s because Johnnie’s an attention seeker! He’s the guy stripping off his clothes and running naked down the main street. That man has a serious ego. There’s a difference. If you tell me you want to be like him, then I’d tell you you’re dumb. ”

  Gabe’s lips almost twisted into a smile. “I don’t know what I did to deserve your attention, Chloe.”

  I squeezed his hand. “Listen to me. I agree you’re not an outspoken jerk like Johnnie. Thank God for that. You want to know the reason everyone doesn’t notice you? Because you’re so easy to be around. You fit in, you go with the flow, and from what you’ve just told me, that’s because of the challenges you faced as a kid. Am I right?”

  “I guess.”

  “And I guess you don’t even realize how important those skills are, do you?”

  “It’s not that big a deal.”

  “It is, it totally is. Damon loves you.” I wasn’t going to elaborate on just how accurately that summed up my brother’s feelings for him. “He loves you because you jam with him. You connect with him in that easy way you have and he feels like he’s contributing to your music, to your songs.”

  Gabe frowned. “He is. He’s really talented.”

  “That’s just it! You give him the chance to shine. You’re the ultimate band member, if you ask me. Johnnie is the bling who gets you noticed, but if it wasn’t for someone like you, they wouldn’t even have a band.”

  “Maybe.”

  I let out a growl of frustration and Gabe’s eyebrows rose in amusement.

  “Yes! You’re pissing me off! Wanna know why? You could be even bigger than Johnnie Walsh. You have the talent and the appeal.”

  Gabe sat back in his seat looking stunned, but didn’t let go of my hand. “You think I should go out on my own?”

  I snapped my mouth shut. Whoops. Was that what I had just said? I guess it kind of had come across like that.

  I looked at our hands still linked together. “You know I think Gypsy Hour is the best. I wasn’t necessarily saying you should leave, just that you should be proud of yourself and your role in the band.”

  “Have a bit more of an ego? Like Johnnie?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Now you’re twisting my words. The world does not need another Johnnie.”

  “I agree with you on that.”

  “Here we go,” Mila said as she walked over to our table with our entrées.

  “Oh my goodness, this looks amazing,” I gushed. “Thank you so much.”

  I snuck a glance at Gabe as Mila placed our meals in front of us. He appeared relieved at the distraction so I’d let him change the subject, but his earlier questioned still rang in my ears:

  You think I should go out on my own?

  Chapter 25

  “I guess this is where I kiss you goodnight,” Gabe said.

  We’d finished our meal and Gabe and I stood just inside the entrance to the restaurant. We knew when we stepped outside my car would be ready to take me home and this was the last private moment we’d have in a while.

  Gabe’s finger traced the curve of my cheek and I tried hard not to close my eyes. I didn’t want to miss a moment of being with him.

  “I wish you could do more than that,” I whispered.

  Gabe’s finger stilled near my lips. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

  His question hung between us like a feather that hovered without a breeze.

  “Yes.”

  Gabe dropped his hand and took a step back.

  “You want me to be your first?” he said.

  “Yes.” God, yes. “Why? Don’t you?”

  He looked uncertain of himself and all the casual ease was gone. “You don’t want to know more about me?”

  I almost laughed. Almost. “You make it sound like there’s something else I need to know.”

  “What? No.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “No,” he repeated. “It’s not that.”

  “You don’t want to have sex with me?”

  He paled noticeably and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Chloe, trust me. I want to have sex with you.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  He stepped back to me and took my face in his hands. “Are you . . . are you using me?”

  “What?” I gasped. “For sex?”

  His lips quirked. “To be your first. You don’t want to be a virgin anymore, so I’m the safe option.”

  “The safe option?” I sputtered. Where on earth did he get that from? When Gabe and I were in the same room there was nothing safe about our relationship.

  “Yeah. You could have done it with Johnnie but he might have hurt you. I’m the nice guy.”

  “You think I’m using you to lose my virginity?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “And then what?”

  “I don’t know. You try some other guys?”

  “Try some other guys!” It was probably just as well the restaurant was empty. I stepped in even closer and mimicked his position, putting my own hands on his rough cheeks. “The only guy I want to try is you. Until you, I never felt in a hurry to lose my virginity. There was no one who made me want to go there. But when I’m with you, it’s all I can think about. If you threw me over your shoulder right now and spread me on that table over there, you could do whatever you wanted to me. I’m yours.”

  The silence between us was electric. Heat pooled in my stomach, in my toes, everywhere, and I couldn’t believe I’d just been so forward—but it was true. I wanted Gabriel da Silva in every way imaginable.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.” His voice was rough, pained.

  I nodded at the table. “You don’t want to?”

  He released a shaky breath. “More than you can know. But we can’t. Not here.”

  “I know.” My cheeks were hot beneath his hands. It felt energizing to be so brazen. “Small issue that it’s not our restaurant and my bodyguard is outside.”

  “Soon.” He kissed me then, slow, deep and irresistibly sweet until I didn’t care anymore about where we were or who was nearby.

  The sound of a female clearing her throat brought us back to reality.

  Harry stood at the entrance to the kitchen, a knowing smile curling her lips. “We’re going to head. Back door’s locked. Just make sure you flip the latch before you leave and hit that green button beside the door to activate the alarm.”

  “What?” My voice was so breathless I wasn’t sure she’d heard me.

  She shrugged. “Mila’s waiting in the car. Take a while longer if you want. We don’t care.”

  “I—”

  “See ya.”

  She’d slipped back into the kitchen before I could say anything else.

  I turned back to Gabe, wide-eyed. Funny. He didn’t look uncertain anymore, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. He reached over to the front door and clicked the lock, then walked to the full-length windows and pulled the curtains closed.

  I couldn’t move and my head was spinning from lack of oxygen.

  Desire—at least I think it was desire, there was also some fear in there, too—pounded through my veins.

  His smile was disarming as he approached me. “Relax. Your first time should be somewhere nicer than this but . . . ” His eyes took me in from head to toe, and I shivered. “How about dessert?”

  “Dessert?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We had dessert.”

  “Not like this.”

  He took my hand and tugged me over in front of the curtains. Then he kissed me again, but it was anything but sweet. It was hot, so hot I longed to be rid of my clothes and pressed up against his bare flesh.

  “Mmm.” He lowered his head and kissed the crook of my neck while his thumb danced a silent rhythm down my arm.

  “Gabe.”

  “Mmm.”

  I pushed against him, pressing my breasts against his chest and my hips into his so I could feel his hardness, his arousal for me.
He stilled.

  “Gabe,” I said again. “I want my top off.”

  In one swift movement he scooped my top over my head and I heard it drop to the floor. I reached around desperately to my back, clawing for the clasp of my bra.

  “Here.” He leaned over my shoulder and my bra followed my top to the floor.

  I sighed at the feeling of my breasts being released. They felt so heavy and full, in a way they never had before.

  “Oh,” I sighed.

  Gabe’s hands cupped me and I suddenly knew why they ached so much. This is what they needed, his touch, his hands caressing them, roaming over me.

  A shudder I couldn’t control overtook me as his thumb and forefinger squeezed my nipple, teasing it to a taught peak. I threw my hands around his neck and clung to him, not caring how weak I might look. I didn’t care. I just wanted him. Here. Now.

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  Despite my daze, I didn’t miss the reverence in his words.

  I pulled him up for another kiss, to taste his sweet, spicy mouth tinged with bitterness from the beer he’d been drinking.

  As we kissed, his hands pushed my skirt up—and I was so glad I was wearing a skirt.

  We stumbled and my back pressed against the curtain as he slid my panties to the floor.

  “Are we . . ?” I thought he’d said we’d wait, but I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

  He held my hips and stepped back with a deliciously wicked grin. “No. Like I said, dessert.”

  He crouched down in front of me and my expression must have been worried or frightened because his grin disappeared. “Has anyone ever?”

  I shook my head, caught between embarrassment and the urgent need for him to touch me again.

  “Have you ever?”

  I frowned. “Have I ever . . ?”

  The wickedness returned. “Touched yourself.”

  “Oh. Oh. Yes, of course.”

  “Of course?” He was teasing me now. “Do you come?”

  He was killing me. The sweet part of me wanted to squeal like a girl and the new Chloe, the bolder Chloe, wanted to grab him and make him touch me.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes,” he repeated knowingly.