Page 18 of Pure Abandon

“Here, let me get that for you.” A soft, warm hand reached over and grabbed a book from a step in front of me.

Mortified, I tried to brush off the kind pedestrian. “Thank you, but it’s okay. I can get it,” I said, grabbing the book out of his hand while noting lean, muscular forearms. I allowed my eyes to travel up and get a good look at the stranger.

He was six feet two with wavy dark hair and navy-blue eyes. With a perfect nose and broad shoulders, he looked like a Kennedy in that All-American kind of way. I had never seen a flawless face before. He was, for lack of better words, beautiful.

A crisp, white three-button Henley outlined his strong arms and lean torso. His jeans hugged his hips and showed a brief hint of boxers as he leaned over. I took a second to wipe the drool from my lower lip.

“Art major?” he asked, looking down at the text he picked up from the staircase. He flashed this jaw-dropping, Robert Redford grin.

“Art history minor.” I clarified, eyeing the textbook on Venetian art in the sixteenth century. “Marketing major.” As if he really cared what my major was. He was just being nice to a girl who completely embarrassed herself in front of her peers.

I glanced down at my watch realizing I was late for my class. “Thank you,” I said, grabbing the book from his hand. I ran up the stairs and spent the next hour thinking about the beautiful boy and his adorable smile.

When class was dismissed, I grabbed my broken bag and carefully placed my belongings inside. I wrapped two arms around the tote and held it like a package. It was the only way I’d get it back to the dorm.

Outside, I saw him standing by the exit where I’d left him. I braced myself, and my broken bag, and started across the quad. By bracing myself, I mean I put my head down and tried to make it across unnoticed. Unsuccessfully.

“Hey!” he called out. “Let me help you with that.”

I stopped in my tracks. Was he talking to me? Oh God, he is.

“No, it’s okay. I got this.” I held my bag tighter and tried not to look back.

I was halfway across the quad when his long legs strode fast behind me. “Wait,” he called out. “Can I least know your name?”

Oh man. The beautiful blue-eyed boy wanted to know my name. This guy had heartbreak written all over his face.

“No.” The word rushed out of my mouth and my feet rushed faster. My lips, however, couldn’t stop smiling.

By the time the dishes are loaded and the counters are clean, my mind has wandered far away with thoughts of extramarital affairs.

“You are uncharacteristically quiet tonight.” Gabriel comes up behind me and places his arms around my waist. I lean back into the comfort of his body.

“Just thinking.” I turn to my iPod on the counter and lower the volume.

“Thinking about what?” he breathes into my hair. “You only play Sia when you’re melancholy.” His voice is smooth with concern.

I rest the back of my head in the crook of his neck, and let out a breath that makes my lips vibrate. “Why do you think people cheat?”

Gabriel smiles into my hair and shakes his head. “I’m not answering that.”

I lean my face toward his. “Guilty?”

“Absolutely not,” he says, placing a soft kiss on the back of my head. “But I don’t want you getting any ideas.”

“I promise I won’t accuse you of cheating on me if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Gabriel exhales and releases me. I spin around and prop my back against the sink.

“Why do people cheat?” He crosses his arms and runs his index finger across his lips, pondering the question. “Why do people cheat?” he repeats. “Well, I can’t speak for myself because I’ve never cheated…”

I toss a dishrag at him, which he dodges, and lets out a small laugh. “Yes, we’ve established that, smartass.”

Gabriel makes his way around the center island toward the refrigerator. “Well, there’s this one guy in my office…”

“Who?”

“I’m not telling you.”