My heart starts racing as I approach, that familiar cocktail of want and nerves flooding my system. Through the small window in his door, I can see Gabriel hunched over his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose as he studies what looks like case files.
Jesus.The glasses are new to me, and the sight of him wearing them does something liquid and dangerous to my insides. He looks scholarly and serious, but they can't hide the underlying intensity that makes my pulse race every time he looks at me.
I knock softly on the doorframe, and when he glances up, his whole face transforms. The focused, professional mask melts away, replaced by a smile that's pure warmth and genuine wonder, like he can't quite believe I'm real.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, pulling off the glasses and standing in one fluid motion. Even that simple movement is controlled, predatory grace that makes my mouth go dry.
"Brought you breakfast." I hold up the bag, trying to ignore the way his eyes track the movement. "Thought you might need something more substantial than whatever vending machine disaster you've been surviving on."
"You figured right." He moves around the desk, and suddenly he's crowding me against the wood, his handscoming up to frame my face with gentle reverence. "Though I'm happier to see you than the food."
The simple honesty in his voice makes my knees weak. Before I can respond, he's leaning down until our foreheads almost touch, his breath warm against my lips.
"Missed you," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and want.
"Gabriel," I breathe, and then his mouth is on mine and I'm drowning.
He kisses me like he's starving, like I'm oxygen and he's been suffocating. His hands tangle in my hair, and I can feel the barely leashed control in the way he holds me, like he wants to devour me but is terrified of being too rough.
I melt into him, my body coming alive under his touch, when he suddenly goes still. His thumb traces the side of my neck, and I know exactly what he's found.
Colt's bite mark. A purple bruise that speaks of possession and passion and choices I won't apologize for.
My face burns, but I force myself to meet Gabriel's eyes. I won't be ashamed. I won't apologize for wanting all of them.
"I spent the night with Colt and Beau," I say, my voice steady despite the way my heart hammers. "At the ranch. All night."
Gabriel goes very still, his thumb still tracing the mark. For a heartbeat, I think he's going to pull away, tell me this is too complicated, that he can't handle sharing after all.
Instead, he leans down and bites the other side of my neck.
The sharp pleasure-pain makes me gasp, my hands fisting in his uniform shirt as he sucks hard enough to leave his own claim. When he pulls back, his blue eyes blaze with something that steals my breath.
"Mine too," he growls, voice rough with possession. "You're mine too."
Relief floods through me so fast it makes me dizzy. "Yes," I whisper. "Yours too."
Gabriel's control snaps like a breaking rope. He lifts me onto his desk, stepping between my legs and crushing his mouth to mine again. This kiss is different, desperate and claiming and full of promises that make heat pool low in my belly.
"Fuck, Lucy," he breathes against my lips, his voice wrecked. "What you do to me. Want you so goddamn bad right now I can barely think straight."
"Then take me," I challenge, but he shakes his head, jaw clenched with the effort of restraint.
"Not here. Not in my office where anyone could walk in." His eyes are dark with regret and hunger. "You deserve better than being bent over my desk like some quick fuck."
The disappointment crashes through me, swift and sharp.
But then an idea forms. Wicked and bold and completely unlike the girl I was just weeks ago.
"Maybe," I say, sliding off the desk to stand in front of him, "I want to take you instead."
Gabriel's eyes go wide as I reach for his belt, understanding immediately. "Lucy, you don't have to—"
"I want to." My fingers work at his buckle, knuckles brushing the hard length of him through the fabric. "I want to know what you taste like. Want to make you lose control."
His breath comes out shaky as I lower his zipper, and when I sink to my knees in front of him, his hands clench into fists at his sides.
"Sweetheart," he says, voice strained, " Anyone could—"
