But Erin refused pliancy. With quick motions, she straddled him, taking them deeper. She rose above him, triumphant and wanton. He guided her, then gave himself to her devastating lead. Lightning flashed through her hips. Thunder rolled in his veins. The climax, when it came, pitched them together into the dark, into the dawn. “I love you.” Gabriel stroked her trembling form, his lungs strained for air. His mind cautioned silence, but his heart had other plans. Before she could respond, he hurried into muffled explanation. “All that matters is you. I love you.” He heard her inhale, prepared to speak. The possibilities sprinted through him and he realized he could only bear one answer. But she said nothing. Fighting lassitude and the dull ache of disappointment, he shut his eyes and drifted off.

Devastated by her frozen silence, Erin curled into him.

She wanted to tell him what she felt, but she couldn’t trust the words. Or the riot of feelings that reeled inside her. In mute response, she pressed a fervent kiss to the chest rising and falling with signs of sleep. Above his heart. There, the steady beat was strong and true. Like Gabriel. She hadn’t known her capacity for joy until him. Hadn’t realized her ability to feel until he held her.

She’d thought of herself as emotionally numbed, too different to love or be loved. Nathan had told her so, too many times. Irritated that he would intrude upon this moment, Erin angrily thrust the image aside. Nathan was the past. Gabriel was her present, possibly her future. If she could find the words.

Chapter 26

Erin awoke to the scent of coffee and pancakes filling the apartment. Slipping on one of Gabriel’s shirts, she wandered into the kitchen. Gabriel stood at the breakfast bar. “Good morning,” he said, sliding a cup of coffee to the edge of the bar. After a couple of hours’ sleep, he’d bounded out of bed with renewed determination to woo Erin. Starting with breakfast.

“Morning.” She rubbed at her eyes, remembering the last moments before she’d succumbed to exhaustion. Of his mumbled confession that he loved her. Of her glaring silence. Faltering, she paused at the entryway, uncertain of her next move. She had absolutely no experience to draw upon.

Gabriel saw her hesitate and he suddenly realized he had no idea what he should say to her. Running his fingers through hair that definitely needed a cut, he exhaled sharply. He’d have to wing it. “Breakfast will be ready in five minutes.” With deft motions, he flipped omelets onto a serving plate. Soon they sat down to breakfast.

“Erin,” Gabriel began after taking a bracing gulp of juice, “we need to talk.” Great, he thought disgustedly. You sound like the morning after in a bad movie. “I mean, we need to think about what happened last night.”

“And this morning,” Erin corrected lightly. “Several times, I seem to remember.”