Take Down by Harper St. George & Harper St. George

Author:Harper St. George & Harper St. George
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Star

12

MEGAN SHIFTED IN her chair, adjusting her digital recorder and thumbing idly through her notebook. Late-afternoon sun streamed through the windows along the front of Sunshine Coffee, a trendy spot off of the Strip. She took a sip of her mocha latte, knowing the caffeine wouldn’t do anything to slow her racing heart, but wanting the jolt all the same. Around her, customers milled about, sipping their drinks, talking, laughing. She’d suggested the café hoping the relaxed atmosphere would put Gabe at ease, and that maybe he’d open up a bit more and give her something for her next article.

She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, watching people on the sidewalk. A young couple holding hands. A handsome older man talking on his phone. A pregnant woman pushing a stroller with a toddler inside. That one sent a sharp pang right to the center of Megan’s chest, and she picked up her mug, taking another sip, as though sugar and caffeine could chase away the longing for something she might never have thanks to the cancer. She’d frozen some of her eggs before undergoing the chemotherapy, but she knew that the success rates with frozen eggs hovered somewhere around the 40 percent mark. Not fantastic odds.

She hadn’t seen Gabe since their night together at the Palms, but she’d thought of him almost constantly. The way he’d spoken to her, touched her. The feel of his hands and his mouth on her skin. His scent, his taste, the sounds he made when he came. The way her body had responded to him, lighting up like a Christmas tree at his gruff orders and the way he’d completely taken control. She’d given him her trust, and he’d cradled it, cherishing it, never crushing it.

She’d barely known what to say to him when she’d called, but then . . . something had changed. Shifted. He’d clearly been drinking, and she’d been able to hear the pain in the rough timbre of his voice. Although she’d wanted to, she hadn’t pried, knowing he wouldn’t have answered her questions, and that he probably would’ve ended the conversation despite his obvious need to talk to someone. He’d needed connection, and she’d talked about whatever he’d wanted to talk about because the pain in his voice had hurt her heart, and she’d desperately wanted to do something to ease that pain.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, nerves tightening her stomach into a quivering knot as she saw Gabe heading for the coffee shop. He wore a black long-sleeved V-neck and worn jeans, his hair half up, half down. She curled her fingers into her palm, remembering the brush of that soft hair against her thighs. For what had to be the hundredth time, she reminded herself that what they’d shared was temporary. He was distant, gruff, and obviously had a metric ton of baggage. Not exactly relationship material, but God, as she watched him, she found that she didn’t care. She just wanted him.

An intense pang of

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