Gabriel is looking right at me.
He hasn’t looked away since I stood up. His gaze is heavy, a physical weight that presses against my skin. There’s no surprise in his eyes. No confusion. Just a dark, simmering intensity that makes the air in my lungs turn thin.
He lifts two fingers, a small, commanding gesture to the bouncer.
The wall of muscle steps aside immediately, unhooking the velvet rope.
I step through.
The atmosphere shifts as I cross into the VIP section. The noise of the bar fades away back here, dampened by the architecture and the distance from the main floor. It feels intimate and vulnerable.
I stop at the edge of his table.
Up close, he’s overwhelming. He’s bigger than Ryder, broader and more muscular, with a presence that sucks all the oxygen out of the immediate vicinity. His suit jacket is unbuttoned, revealing the crisp white shirt beneath, the top button undone.
God, he’s sexy.
He doesn't say a word. He just watches me, his gray eyes tracking every breath I take, every twitch of my hands. He looksat me like he knows exactly why I’m here. Like he’s read the script and is just waiting for me to say my lines.
My mouth goes dry. The brave, reckless speech I prepared in my head evaporates.
“Mr. Hollis,” I say. My voice is steady, thank God.
He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the glass. He sets it down on the black table with a soft clink.
“Miss Ashby,” he greets me. His voice is a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates straight up my legs, settling between my thighs. “You look like a woman on the warpath.”
“Do I?” I manage, my fingers digging into the soft leather of my clutch until they start to ache. “If I am, it’s your son’s fault.”
Gabriel leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. The movement brings him closer, invading my personal space without even standing up. “My son is a fool.”
The admission catches me off guard. I blink. “He said you told him to dump me. That I wasn’t good enough.”
Gabriel’s lip curls. A cruel, beautiful expression. “I told him he didn’t deserve you. There’s a difference.”
Oh.
The air shifts, thickening until it begins to crackle. His gaze drops to my mouth, heavy and unblinking, stripping away the last of my hesitation. With a rough shove, Gabriel pushes the table aside. The legs scrape against the floor as he widens his stance to clear a path. I take the invitation. I step forward, moving until I’m standing right between his spread knees. It’s reckless. It’s insane. It’s the edge of a cliff I’m more than ready to jump off.
“I want to ruin him,” I whisper. The truth spills out before I can stop it. “I want to make him regret the day he met me.”
Gabriel looks up at me. His eyes burn with a wild hunger that threatens to swallow me whole. My survival instincts demand Irun for the exit, but my body refuses to listen. I stay right where I am, rooted to the spot by the heat of his stare.
He reaches out, his large hand wrapping around my wrist. His grip is warm, firm, possessive. He runs his thumb over my pulse point, feeling the way my heart is trying to escape my body.
“Careful what you ask for,” he says, his voice dropping to a rough whisper that scrapes against my nerves. “You might find that revenge is a very expensive hobby.”
“I’m willing to pay,” I say.
He tugs on my wrist. Not hard, but with an inescapable force that leaves me no choice but to follow. I land right where he wants me—straddling his lap.
My breath hitches as my knees hit the bench on either side of his hips. The hem of my dress rides high, hiking up my thighs to expose skin that suddenly feels feverish in the cool air. But it’s the heat beneath me that incinerates every rational thought. Through the expensive wool of his pants, I feel him—thick, big, and hard as a rock.
A shock of desire strikes the marrow of my bones, violent enough to nearly buckle my knees. The logic of my plan—Ryder, the revenge, the ruin this will bring down on us—disintegrates the second his body presses against mine. My hips betray me, grinding forward to chase the friction from his body like it’s the only thing keeping me breathing. This isn’t anything like what I felt for his son. This is a feral, starving ache that I didn’t know existed until he touched me, an unsettling realization that I’ve been hungry my entire life and he’s the only thing that can feed me.
Gabriel doesn't let go of my wrist. Instead, his grip tightens, anchoring me against the unyielding ridge of his erection. He leans in, his mouth grazing the shell of my ear. I can smell him—subtle cologne, expensive scotch, and pure, unadulterated power.
“If we do this,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin, “we do it my way. And once I start, I don’t stop until I’m finished.” He pulls back enough to look me in the eye, his gaze dropping to my lips and staying there. “Are you sure you want to play this game with me?”
