Trust me, he’d said.
Nobody had taken care of me. Everyone else’s needs always came prior to my own. But this man seemed wholly focused on me and my needs, I thought, as his tongue slid over me and a long shudder shook through me. He licked and stroked, first one outer lip, then the other, teasing me with circular laps of his tongue, surrounding the one spot that begged for attention.
I gripped the headboard harder, holding on tightly, while he devoured every inch of me. Never had anyone lingered so long or groaned in such primal satisfaction at a job well done. He nibbled with his teeth, took long sweeps with his tongue, alternating them quickly and mercilessly until sensations collided, fighting for dominance. I climbed higher and higher still, his devoted attention to his task perfect, no place, no detail left out. My hips shook, and waves attacked me, rising but never peaking as Gabe kept me hanging, my climax so close yet just out of reach.
I was soaked with my own juices and from him, and I didn’t care. He let out a low groan, and the vibrations skyrocketed through me, my sighs, moans, oh Gods echoing throughout the room. Stars flickered behind my eyes, and I was certain this was it, I was so ready to detonate, and the bastard eased off, changed pace, pulling me back down only to start all over again. Nobody had ever played me so thoroughly or so well.
Without warning, he thrust not one finger but two inside me at the exact moment he latched on to my clit with his teeth. I screamed. He curved his fingers, somehow finding an elusive spot that brought me to exquisite heights, shattering me into pieces that scattered into the air. I lost track of time and place, wholly and utterly spent.
I don’t know how long a time passed, only that I came to myself slowly, my breathing catching up with my mind, my mind with my body, until I was able to focus. Somehow I was wrapped in Gabe’s strong arms.
I reached for him, finding his shirt and not his skin. “You’re still dressed,” I said, disappointed. I wanted to see his body, the muscles I’d only imagined, the hot skin beneath the clothes. But I hadn’t been given the pleasure of the view. I hadn’t felt him in my hands, nor had I experienced him inside my body.
“I didn’t want to rush things.” He stared down at me, his expression more shuttered than before.
My heart beat a rapid staccato, fear replacing contentment. I struggled to sit, to pull away. If he didn’t want me, what had that been about? Exposing me that way?
“Relax.” His arms tightened, easing me back into him.
I shook my head, rebelling against his control. “I don’t like these kind of games.” Sex games? Games for pleasure? I wouldn’t have thought I’d enjoy those, but he’d made me see that I could. But emotional games were something else, and he’d clearly pulled away, encasing himself in some sort of icy shell. This after making me melt all over him. That was just cruel.
Tears filled my eyes, and mortification rushed through me. “Let me go.”
“I want you,” he said, the words stilling my movements. “Maybe too much.”
That caused a pain in my chest. “Explain.”
His long silence frightened me, but since he wasn’t releasing his tight hold, I had no choice but to wait out his explanation.
“I never have unprotected sex.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I should hope not.” Understanding dawned. “You don’t have condoms?” Had he used them all up with—I quickly cut off that train of thought.
He groaned, his hand stroking my hair. “I have them.”
“Then I really don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” he muttered, almost too low for me to hear.
I didn’t get what was going on with him—a change of mind? Or not?
Uncomfortable being the only one undressed and vulnerable, I forced myself out of his embrace. “Explain or I walk,” I said, jumping out of bed and searching for my clothes.
“Stop,” he commanded in that voice.
Until he provided me with understanding that made sense, I wasn’t falling under his spell again. Without worrying about the panties, I continued my jerky movements, pulling up the sweats and yanking the tee shirt over my head.
“I don’t want anything between us when I come inside you,” he finally said, the admission drawn from somewhere deep. “Skin to skin. Flesh to flesh. No barrier. I couldn’t stand it.”
I stilled. His words were soft, not spoken in that take-charge way, yet my body responded, returning to the place where I ceded control willingly, without thought.
This was bad, I realized. Scary bad, this sudden deep, emotional need and connection between us. But it existed.
I looked up, met his gaze. He stared back, but his expression still held blank pieces, and my stomach churned uncomfortably.
He held out his hand.
I strode over, placing my palm in his. Decision made, nerves be damned. Whatever this was, we were in it together. Because what I’d found with Gabe behind his bedroom door was too strong to be denied.
I sensed there was more to why he hadn’t … fucked me … than wanting us skin to skin. I shivered at the sensual prospect because I wanted it too. But it scared me. Badly.
I wondered what it would take for him to admit that it had scared him too.
Chapter Eight
Gabe: Coming to Terms
Shit, shit, shit.
Gabe swept the papers off his desk, sending everything flying onto the floor. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way about anyone. Not ever again.
Ghosts flashed in front of his eyes, of those he’d loved and lost, and the one he hadn’t really loved and should never have married. Now he had a woman in his bedroom asleep, and despite all his damned commands, she held all the power.
He’d learned about power exchange in order to feel in control—of himself and his life? And he had.
Until Isabelle.
He should have heeded his brother and not taken her home, but he’d listened to her sassy retorts, he’d looked into her eyes, and he’d been trapped. So here he was, sporting a hard-on the likes of which he’d never experienced, relief a couple of feet away, and he was doing something he’d never done before—depriving himself of what he wanted.
Because what he wanted was more than her body. He wanted her soul. And she was clearly nowhere near ready to give it to him.
His phone rang, and he answered without checking the caller ID. “Yeah.”
“Good morning to you too, big brother.”
“Lucy, what are you doing calling so early on the weekend?” If it was nine a.m. in New York, it was six a.m. in California.