18. Don't Hold Me

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P L A Y L I S T

Don't Hold Me - Dean Lewis


"There's only one thing I can't forgive or get past, and that's cheating. And you haven't done that, have you?"

"No. Never." The answer stopped him. The truth within a lie. Wonder how she'd feel about that? He wouldn't have long to wait with her memory returning. This latest revelation moved the period from junior high best friend to lying ex, and according to Matthew, that happened three years ago. If the pattern held, she'd remember her real boyfriend soon.

Her voice shook Gabriel from his thoughts.

"You're not mad that I asked, are you?"

"Why would I be?"

She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. "Because I should trust you—and I do, but..."

He took her hand in his. "I understand. If you could recall your past, you would have known the answer. I get it." Yeah, he got it all right. In a short time, she'd hate him more than she ever thought she loved him. But that would be okay, because she'd never really love him, and he would learn to live with it.

He shifted and pulled up the cover. "Enough talk. I have to get up early." She lay back again but didn't move next to him. "Just one more thing. Since my... since Matthew... is staying a few days, I'll get him to go car shopping with me. No need for you to give up your day off to haul me from place to place."

An odd feeling passed over Gabriel. He almost felt—rejected. Hell, what was wrong with him? One minute he wanted her to leave, and the next, got offended she chose to be with her family.  Damn, he was losing it. "Good idea, since he wants more time with you and by doing so, it might speed up your recovery."

She didn't say anything else, just put her back to him, and snuggled deeper into the mattress. Earlier, he'd pretended to be asleep when she'd offered her apology, so he figured this was the first step in keeping her promise of backing off on the touchy feeling stuff. Thank God. Being close to her and remaining a gentleman was harder than he thought it'd be. If he dissected her looks, there really wasn't anything special about her. Shoulder length blond hair. Blue eyes—who the hell was he kidding? Everything about her was special, all wrapped up in a tidy little package. That was the damn problem.

And he'd compounded it by giving in to a moment of desire. The memory of how her skin felt against his lips, and the sight of her full, rounded breasts, had his heart doing double time.

He'd tried like hell to find something about her he didn't like and so far, no luck. Staring at thirteen more days—helping her undress—seeing her naked—lying next to her—would be torture, but he'd survive. He had no choice.

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