His eyes shift with challenge and hunger before he nods once, submissively.
I trail my fingers up his throat, feeling him swallow beneath my touch. “You like knowing you’re not in charge,” I say, grinding down on his throbbing length.
His voice is rough when he answers. “I like that it’s you.”
I pause, letting the words sink in. “What do you mean?”
“You’re perfect like this,” he breathes. “Confident and untouchable.”
I lean down, finally granting him my mouth, but when I feel him trying to deepen the kiss again I pull back.
“You don’t get to take,” I remind him. “You get to receive.”
An unrestrained groan tears out of him this time. “Please, Zalea,” he begs now.
I smile wickedly, loving the sound of him begging. It’s a nice change.
“Okay,” I say. “Since you asked so nicely.”
I slowly slide my body down until my face hovers over his hard length, restrained by his boxers. Lifting my gaze to eyes, I hook my fingers into the waistband and draw the material down just enough for his thick cock to spring free.
The look on Gabriel’s face is intoxicating as he watches me lower my mouth to the tip, his jaw clenched and hands fisted into the sheets. I take my time, placing gentle kisses before sliding my tongue from base back to tip, and plunging it deep into my mouth.
He tastes both sweet and salty, and I can’t get enough. I fight a smile as I hear his breath hitch, and his control finally slips when he lifts his hand to my hair, holding it out of my face. It doesn’t take long for his hips to buck in response, becoming more frenzied by the second, and when his body stiffens and he groans while his release spills into my mouth, I swallow it all, not breaking eye contact.
“I don’t stand a chance with you,” he murmurs, his head dropping back against the mattress.
I lift myself back up to his face, planting a soft kiss. “I know.”
Gabriel pulls me into his side to cuddle while we catch our breaths, but being in his arms is so comfortable I can’t help but close my eyes and doze off.
TWELVE
GABRIEL | FLORENCE
No amountof money can compare to the feeling of absolute euphoria I feel when I wake up to Zalea Evans in my arms. Her auburn hair is loose and strung across my arm while soft breaths escape from her lips as she lays on my chest.
She holds onto me tightly, even in her sleep, as if she’s scaredI’mthe one that will up and leave without a word.
I’m not ready to wake her up though, because I know once I do there’s a high chance she’ll run out of here, as usual. It’s the same thing with Zalea every time. She gives me a tough girl act at first, then gives in to what she actually wants—usually sex—and by morning she runs off, regretting it all.
I’m like a guilty pleasure to her, and I hate it. I want to be more than a quick hookup. I want the friendship we used to have back, the undeniable soulmate attraction we shared. But she’s kept this wall up with me ever since I came back from my final tour and took over as the coach of the Saltwater Shredders. And maybe it’s her way of trying to keep things professional, but I’m determined to break that wall down this time.
After ten minutes of indulging in her cinnamon scent and warmth, Zalea slowly begins to stir. She rolls onto her back and stretches out her limbs, letting out a satisfied groan beforerelaxing her body. I watch as she blinks her eyes open, a small smile playing on her lips, and as she looks around my room I watch that same smile fade before she turns her head and meets my gaze.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I say, my voice still rough from sleep.
Her eyes widen before she surges upright, looking around the room wildly. “Did I fall asleep here, or did you kidnap me from my room?”
I roll my eyes, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. “Kidnapping has never been my style, Z.”
“No, you’re right,” she says, tossing the sheets off her body and collecting her underwear and skirt off the floor. “You’re more of the stalking type.”
There’s that wall I mentioned.
I sigh, watching her get dressed as fast as she possibly can. “Do you have to run every single time you’re with me?” I ask.
“I’m not running,” she says defensively as she finds her shoes and slips into them. “I have a life, Gabriel. I have plans that I’m late for.”
