"A little," I admit, though I'm not sure the shiver has anything to do with temperature.
There's a soft wool blanket draped over the back of his chair, and Gabriel shakes it out before moving to stand behind me. "Here," he murmurs, and his voice is close to my ear as he drapes the fabric around my shoulders.
His hands linger, adjusting the blanket, and I can feel the heat of his body at my back. When I turn to thank him, I realize he hasn't moved away. He's standing right there, close enough that I can see the intensity burning in his blue eyes, close enough to feel his breath ghost across my face.
"Lucy," he says, and the careful control he always maintains cracks just enough to let something hungry slip through.
The space between us seems to vibrate with possibility. I can smell his cologne mixed with wood smoke, can feel the careful restraint he's exercising as his eyes drop to my mouth.
He's leaning closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek, when guilt crashes over me like ice water.
"Wait," I breathe, pressing my hand against his chest. "I need to tell you something."
He stills but doesn't move away. "What?"
"Today. With Colt." The words tumble out in a rush of confession. "We kissed."
Gabriel's jaw clenches, and for a moment something dangerous flickers behind his eyes. I expect him to pull away, to step back and put distance between us. Instead, his thumb traces along my cheekbone with devastating gentleness.
"Are you telling me this because you want me to stop?" he asks, his voice deadly quiet.
"I'm telling you because I promised I wouldn't lie to you."
Something shifts in his expression, something possessive and claiming that makes my breath catch in my throat.
And then his mouth is on mine.
Where Colt was gentle and questioning, Gabriel is sure and demanding. His lips are firm against mine, his kiss tasting of whiskey and something that's purely him.
He kisses me like he's staking a claim, like he's been wanting to do this for too long and refuses to hold back any longer.
I melt into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as he deepens the kiss. His arms circle me completely, one hand splayed across my back while the other cups the nape of my neck, angling my head to take the kiss deeper.
I can feel his control fraying at the edges, can feel the barely leashed power in the way he holds me.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Gabriel's thumb traces my bottom lip, his eyes dark with something that makes my knees weak.
"Well," he says, his voice rough and satisfied, "now I've kissed you too."
I should be concerned about the possessive way he says it. Instead, all I feel is heat spiraling through me like wildfire.
"Gabriel," I start, but he silences me with a gentle finger against my lips.
"No regrets," he says firmly. "Not tonight."
He's right. Tomorrow I can go back to my plan, to keeping distance and protecting everyone from the disaster of my life. But tonight, with the fire warming my face and Gabriel's hands still on me, regret feels impossible.
"Come on," he says gently. "You should get some rest."
He walks me to my room, his hand warm and steady at the small of my back. At my door, he pauses, and for a moment I think he might kiss me again. Instead, he brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch lingering like a promise.
"Sleep well, Lucy."
His fingers trail down my arm, deliberate and possessive, leaving heat behind that I feel long after his touch fades.
"And don't overthink tonight."
He turns to leave, but before I can stop myself, I catch his hand. Electricity arcs between us at the contact.
