He pulls out his phone, frowning at the screen. “I need to report this.”
“To who? The cops?” I laugh again, shaking my head and swinging my leg back over my bike. “Good luck. Half the force in this district is on someone’s payroll.”
I turn the key in the ignition. I’m not waiting around for whatever car service he’ll need to call.Tonight was a onetime arrangement, and now it’s done.
Gabriel steps in front of the bike, blocking my path. “You’re going to leave me here?”
“Yep.”
“At least take me back to your place to wait for my car to be found.” He waits, expectation built into the pause.
I raise an eyebrow. “Why should I?”
“Because it’s after four in the morning, and we’re in a neighborhood where my car was stolen?” He gestures to the empty parking space.
“You can wait inside the Blue Note.”
“With your friends who looked like they wanted to kill me?” Gabriel crosses his arms over his chest. “No thanks. I prefer my chances staying with you.”
I rev the engine in a clear signal that this conversation is over. “Give me a compelling reason that’s not a fancy present I don’t need.”
Gabriel sweeps his jacket to the side to hook his thumbs into his front pockets, canting his hips forward, and heat curls through my stomach in response. “Sounds like you have something in mind.”
I track the movement of his mouth before I can stop myself, and the memory of his insistence that the flirting was real follows close behind.
“Is talking all that pretty mouth is good for?” The words escape before I can filter them, charged with an invitation I hadn’t planned to extend.
Gabriel’s tongue darts out to skim his full bottom lip. “Take me back to your place, and I’ll let you find out.”
My mouth goes dry. This is dangerous territory, crossing lines I’ve drawn around myself for protection. But the night’s adrenaline still courses through me, and Gabriel is offering a different kind of release than my usual methods.
My hands tighten around the handlebars. “I don’t reciprocate.”
The boundary is clear, non-negotiable. If he wants more, this ends now.
Gabriel pulls the helmet back on without hesitation and climbs onto the back of the bike. His arms embrace me again, this time slow and deliberate, each inch of contact lingering.
“I can work with that,” he murmurs into my ear before pulling the visor down.
The heat of his body returns, seeping through my clothes as we pull away from the curb. This time, I don’t accelerate to escape the sensation.
Instead, I let the promise of his words wraparound us both as we head toward my apartment and whatever awaits us there.
The key sticks in my door lock, requiring a jiggle I’ve perfected over months of repetition. Gabriel stands too close behind me, his breath warm on my neck as I work the stubborn mechanism.
When the door swings open at last, stale air rushes out to greet us, carrying the lingering scent of yesterday’s coffee and the mustiness of a place where the windows are never open to allow in fresh air. I flick on the single overhead light, its harsh fluorescence exposing the sparse furniture within.
“Home sweet home,” I mutter, stepping aside to let Gabriel enter.
His expensive Italian shoesshushacross the worn linoleum of the entryway as he takes in my living space.
A secondhand couch covered in faded upholstery sits facing a scratched coffee table bearing rings from countless glasses, and the kitchenette hugs one wall with a double-burner stove top and mini-fridge. A cardboard box serves as a makeshift end table, with a lamp missing a shade balanced ontop. The walls are bare except for a water stain in the corner.
No framed photos. No decorative touches. Nothing here reveals who I am beyond the bare necessities.
Gabriel moves further into the apartment, and my skin crawls with the awareness of how much this reveals about me.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I ask, kicking the door shut and throwing the deadbolt. The familiar click of metal sliding into place eases some of the tension in my shoulders.
