Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [80]
“Okay.” They exchanged numbers. Gabe said, “Thanks, Peter. I mean that. And I really do feel okay talking to you. It’s just that there’s not much to talk about. My days are pretty routine and mostly revolve around my practice schedule.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Decker told him. “Your discipline is otherworldly.”
“I love what I do. Not all the time, but most of the time. The main entrance is on the other side.”
Decker negotiated the parking lot, raindrops bouncing off the blacktop like hot grease. He pulled up as close as he could to the doors and Gabe tore out of the car.
From inside the mall, Gabe looked out the glass doors and watched the Loo drive away. He waited the requisite amount of time, then flipped up his umbrella, and embraced the rain.
Chapter Twenty-five
When he knocked on the door, she told him to go away.
“Yasmine, open up.”
“Go away,” she repeated.
He shook out his umbrella underneath her covered porch and closed it. “Yasmine, I’m soaking wet! For goodness’ sake, open the friggin’ door!”
She looked out the peephole. He was dripping water from everywhere. She opened the door. “Come in and take off your clothes. I’ll throw them in the dryer.”
Gabe stepped over the threshold and began to strip. “I’m liking this already.”
She scuffled away in bunny slippers. Her eyes were droopy, and her nose was red. She wore oversized red-and-white-striped pajamas. She looked like a candy cane. The house was big, and it took him a minute to find the laundry room. She took his clothes, threw them in the dryer, and pushed a button. The drum started to rumble. She hung up his sodden bomber jacket over the utility sink, and then leaned against the washer, her back to his face. He came up from behind and kissed the nape of her neck. He was naked except for his briefs.
“You’re gonna get sick,” she told him.
He kept kissing her neck. She smelled hormonal. Something primal coursed through his body and within seconds, he was rock hard. “I don’t care.”
She broke away and left the room without explanation as he followed into her bedroom. She went under her covers and crossed her arms across her chest. She was angry that he was aroused when she felt so lousy. But then she noticed he was shivering. She sighed, opened her blanket, and he slid under. They sat without talking. “Viene La Sera” came through her stereo speakers . . . the two of them listening to the haunting love duet from Madame Butterfly. Gabe put his arm around her.
“You shouldn’t be so close to me,” Yasmine said.
Gabe dropped his arm. “Do you want me to leave?”
She looked up with wet eyes. “No.” A pause. “I’m sorry I’m so grumpy.”
“That’s okay. I love you even grumpy.” Tears spilled over her lower lashes. He hugged her again. This time she didn’t resist.
“It’s a horrible cold, Gabe. I don’t want you to catch it.”
“You’re worth a thousand colds.”
“Not a million colds?”
Gabe laughed. “A million trillion, okay?”
She ran her fingers through his damp locks. “What happened to your glasses?”
“I’m wearing contacts. Rain messes up the lenses.”
“I like it.” She smiled slyly. “I can see those gorgeous eyes of yours.”
“Thank you. And with my gorgeous eyes I can see your gorgeous face.” He started kissing the nape of her neck again. When she didn’t resist, he moved around to the front, to that sexy notch at the beginning of her throat and then down to her chest. He slowly started to unbutton her pajama top. When it was open, he slid his hand over her two protuberances, which seemed to be growing by the week. He whispered, “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, but you’re still very sexy.”
“I feel horrible.” He took his hand away. She put it back. “It’s okay.”
His dick was stiff again. He gently pushed her down until she was supine, and he began to kiss her breasts. He knew he caught colds easily. He knew he’d catch hers. He didn’t give a shit. “God, you’re fantastic.”
Lying on her back caused a drip into her throat. She tried to stifle the cough, but ended up hacking away and had