“When you’re an alcoholic, and trying to get sober, that sort of free-flowing emotion and total abandonment is a really bad thing. You need control, or at least I did, to stay away from the alcohol. I had to clamp down on all my creativity. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” She understood. Completely. “I told you I’m a control freak. I know exactly what you mean.” Glancing up at him, she asked the obvious. “So why now? What makes it okay now?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just felt right. I’m in control. And I enjoyed doing this.”

“It shows.” She felt her cheeks pinken as she saw how truly far apart her legs had been. “I thought I was alone.”

“I know. That’s what made it so enticing. You were completely unaware of me.”

“How long were you dangling out of that window? You just about gave me a heart attack.”

He laughed. “Not long. And I have very good balance.”

“So do cats and they fall sometimes too.” She rolled her eyes to finish off her point.

Gabriel startled her by running his fingertip along her cheek, softly, slowly. “Don’t worry. I have nine lives.”

The touch felt good, and she struggled against the urge to close her eyes, to lean into it. “Nobody lives forever, Gabriel. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“Maybe every day feels like I am going to live forever. Maybe it feels endless.” His dark brown eyes bored into her as his finger fell away.

He had a deep voice, at odds with his delicate bone structure, and it washed over her, his face closer to hers than she had realized. Their bodies were brushing casually, no sense of personal space between them, and she gave in to the urge to touch his hair. Just the end. Lightly. Smoothing it. It was as silken and soft as she had imagined. “Maybe it’s time to rediscover some of the things that brought you joy before.”

She meant painting, the piano. But he got a licentious look in his eye. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Whatever you like. Sketching, for one.”

“Maybe. If you’ll model for me.”

Sara stood still. He was so close to her his breath danced across her face. His eyes studied her, challenging her. He was going to kiss her. She was sure of it. And every inch of her welcomed it, wanted to feel his body against hers, wanted to taste his mouth, dip her tongue inside him, and have permission to plunge her fingers into his hair and tug.

“I’ll think about it,” she whispered. “But I’m a very self-conscious person, so if I model, it will be stilted.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “I think if you decide to do something, you do it, without hesitation.”