fisted her hands at her sides—to keep from hitting him or grabbing his face and kissing him, she wasn’t sure. Her attraction wouldn’t be such an issue if Gabe wasn’t a Walsh. If his uncle hadn’t tried to destroy so many lives, hers included. The guilt by association was enough to have her emotionally pulling back.
But the sizzling attraction didn’t let up, no matter how much she tried to shove it aside.
Chelsea’s body trembled, betraying her vow to keep him at a distance. When his fingers skimmed over her again, he quirked a half smile as he brought his eyes back up to meet hers.
“Is this the part where you deny your attraction?” he asked, still using those clever hands. His fingertips circled around to where the dress exposed her back.
Chelsea sucked in a breath and cursed every single goose bump that popped up along her skin. They were both fully clothed, yet his fingertips on her bare back was something too akin to a lover’s touch. And it had been too damn long since she’d taken a lover; she was clearly letting this affect her more than it should.
She’d not made the best choices in men. When she’d been younger, she confused attention with attraction. Then as she’d gotten older she’d distanced herself because she didn’t trust her judgment. The scandal had her more than hesitant at getting close to any man. Now, here she was attracted to a man who was the next of kin to the bastard who’d humiliated her.
“Turn around,” he whispered in her ear.
Without thinking, she turned to face the mirror. Gabe stood directly behind her, his body practically plastered against hers and those fingers still roaming over her heated skin. His eyes met hers in the mirror as he raised his other hand to the top of the zipper. Just the brush of his knuckles on the underside of her arm had her shivering even though the thick material served as a barrier.
Chelsea closed her eyes, hoping that if she didn’t have to look at their reflection she could ignore this entire moment.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
She gave in way too easily as her gaze met his once again. “Stop,” she muttered.
“Stop what exactly?” He gave the zipper the slightest tug. “Stop helping you out of this dress or stop tormenting us both?”
She’d never been one to think of having sex in a public place, but right at this moment, she’d give just about anything to alleviate this ache caused by a man she shouldn’t want.
“You had to know when we kissed that there would be more,” he whispered. Though he didn’t need to keep his voice down. The chaos of teen girls on the other side of that locked door drowned out anything they were saying...or doing.
“There can’t be more.”
The zipper gave way just as he brushed his lips along the side of her neck. Chelsea’s body betrayed her...much as it had ever since Gabe had stepped foot into this tiny room. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head against his shoulder. Maybe she just wanted to take this moment, maybe she wanted to ignore everything and let him pleasure her. He was doing a damn fine job already.
Why did she have to be so torn? Why did he have to be such a mystery?
The hand on her back came around to her throat, tipping her head just enough for him to trail his lips over her exposed skin. He continued to work on her zipper just as expertly as he heated her up. She was about one strategically placed kiss away from moaning.
“Don’t lie to me again and tell me you don’t want me,” he murmured in her ear. “You’re shaking in my arms and I haven’t even gotten you out of this dress yet.”
He cupped her jaw and turned her head toward him. As his mouth crashed onto hers, Chelsea turned in his arms, threading her fingers through his hair and taking what he so freely gave.
Just for a minute. That was all. Then she’d go back to loathing him and believing he was a liar. But right now, common sense and reality had no place here.
Nothing lied about his lips or the hands that roamed all over her body. He wanted her just as fiercely as she wanted him.
Gabe backed her against the wall and gripped her hips, pulling her toward him. His arousal was obvious.
If he lit her up this quickly, this intensely, what would happen once they were skin to skin? Would he take his time and savor the moment? Would he—?
“Excuse me?” A knock came on the door. “We have several girls who need to try some things on.”
Gabe eased back slightly and muttered under his breath. Chelsea wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. First, there’d been the naked pictures and now she’d been pretty much caught getting it on in the dressing room of the only bridal shop in town. Could she provide more fodder for the gossip mill? Maybe she should parade down the main street of Royal in the buff.
“My zipper was stuck,” she called out, realizing how lame that sounded. “Be right out.”
Chelsea pushed Gabe back, but he couldn’t go far considering the narrow space. “Either help me with the rest of this zipper or get out.”
His dark eyes were heavy with arousal, the bulge in his jeans an added reminder of what they’d nearly done. Heat crept up her neck and flushed her face. She reached to the side of her dress and found that he’d actually gotten the zipper all the way down. When had that happened? Likely somewhere between that first touch and when he’d nearly kissed her to orgasm.
“Your work here is done,” she told him, more than ready to get out of this dress and back into her jeans and boots.
Gabe took one step toward her, framed her face in his hands and leaned to within a breath of her mouth. “My work with you hasn’t even started.”
Releasing her, he stepped from the room and out the door just as casual as you please. Chelsea sank onto the tiny accent chair in the corner and took a deep breath. Right now the least of her worries was the people on the other side of that door when she walked out.
No, her greatest concern was the man who’d just left her aching even more than before. Nobody had ever gotten her so worked up, and here she was still trembling and in desperate need for him to finish the job.
Damn it. How was she going to keep her distance while they worked on this wedding, and not fall into bed with Gabe Walsh?
Gabe shut down his laptop and came to his feet. It had been two days since his close encounter with Chelsea at the bridal shop and he was no closer to finding relief than he was then.
The damn woman had gotten to him. Perhaps it was her sassy mouth, or maybe it was the fact she hadn’t initially believed him when he’d said he was in no way involved in leaking those nude photos. Maybe it was the way she wore jeans and tanks like they were made for her. Hell, he didn’t know. All Gabe knew was that Chelsea Hunt was an enigma that he simply couldn’t solve.
He’d been a damn special agent and still he couldn’t figure out how someone as smart-mouthed and difficult as Chelsea had gotten under his skin. He could find any woman to scratch his itch, but he wasn’t that guy anymore. In his twenties, he’d been selfish, falling into the bed of any willing woman. He was more particular now, definitely busier with work. And no one had pulled at him like Chelsea Hunt. So, no. No other woman would do.
But right now he had a few other pressing matters. Several of his clients had questioned him about his connection to his uncle. He’d already spoken with quite a few of them and he wasn’t done yet. Gabe planned to spend the rest of his day running interference and hopefully smoothing ruffled feathers.
He grabbed his hat and headed out the door of his loft apartment. He loved the prime location in downtown Royal. There were shops, restaurants, and it wasn’t too far from the Texas Cattleman’s