“I don’t want to.”
The words are out before I can stop them.
His hand stills. “No?”
“No.” I meet his gaze. My heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest. “I’m tired of pretending that I don’t, that I’m not?—”
“Not what?”
“Not thinking about you.” I know the admission will cost me, but I go on with it anyway. “About what you did. When you touched me; how you made me feel.”
His eyes darken. “And how did I make you feel?”
“Like I mattered.” My voice cracks.
He kisses me.
It’s not gentle. His mouth claims mine with the same intense certainty as before, one hand cupping the back of my neck, the other sliding to my waist. I gasp against him, my pussy clenching as he slips his tongue into my mouth.
God, he tastes so good, I want to scream.
He lets out a low growl and pulls me closer, his body solid against mine. His cock is stiff and pressing against my thigh; the sensation of him hard against me causes a moan to escape.
I slip my hands up his torso, feeling the solid lines of his abs and chest, the tension of his muscles, the warmth of his skin.
“Thea,” he murmurs against my lips. “Tell me to stop.”
“No.” There’s not even a second of doubt.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
“I can’t.”
“Good.”
He breaks the kiss long enough to look at me, hunger and want in his eyes.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me over to the desk, sweeping papers and books aside with one arm before setting me down on the edge.
“Gabriel—”
“Let me see you.” He tugs at the hem of my t-shirt. I hesitate for only a second before lifting my arms. He pulls it off and tosses it aside.
I’m bare beneath, just a simple pair of cotton panties preventing me from being totally naked.
He doesn’t wait before turning his attention to those. Gabriel places his hands on each side of my hips, squeezing the softness there before hooking his fingers underneath the waistband and pulling them down my legs. I lift my ass just enough to help him.
Gabriel tosses them over his shoulder, then he looks at me. Really looks.
His gaze travels over my body—slow, thorough, hungry—and I have to fight the urge to cover myself.
“Cristo,” he breathes. “Look at you.”
“I’m not?—”
“You’re perfect,” he says, cutting me off. Gabriel steps between my thighs, his hands on my waist, thumbs stroking the soft curve of my stomach. “You’re fucking perfect, Thea. Every inch.”
“But I’m not thin.”
