"Jesus Christ Lace, here I was about to send out a search warrant for you. And you were just busy shoving your tongue down some hot guy's throat. I suppose I can forgive you," Gabe's teases with a naughty grin.

Sitting on Gabe's glass dining table, my feet are firmly planted on the black chair as I rest my face on my knees. Gabe put on a pot of Turkish apple tea, and it smells wonderfully aromatic. All is forgiven, considering I just left in the middle of the night, with his ...