9. Riley
NINE
Once again,I”m asking myself what the fuck I”m doing. But unlike my earlier meltdown in the room, I can”t freak out, because I”m walking next to Gabriel. I very much am freaking out, though, because I”ve decided to stay here for the weekend.
It”s one of the most irresponsible, wild things I”ve ever done. But what are my alternatives? Leave and not get the interview? I”d never forgive myself. Not take the chance to find out what makes this beautiful, enigmatic man tick?
No way. I”m grabbing this chance with both hands—although, grabbing might be the wrong verb when it comes to Gabriel.
We”re in the grand entranceway again, and it”s illuminated with what looks to be candlelight, but on a closer glance, is just a fancy, flickering lightbulb.
”Would you care for a nightcap? We can sit in the library, or back out on the terrace?” He gestures down the hall, and once again, my eyes go to his muscular forearms. I”ve always liked that on a man, and for a moment, I”m mute. Between that and his almost formal, slightly accented English, I”m captivated.
”Riley?”
”Uh, yeah?” Ugh, I”m coming off as flighty. It”s essential that I put distance between the two of us, because I”m picking up serious want to fuck vibes. On both our parts. ”I”m a little tired, after the events of today. Kidnapping really takes the sparkle out of a girl, you know.”
He chuckles. ”You”re quite funny. I like your sense of humor.”
”Yeah,” I snort. ”Seriously, I think I”d like to just rest.”
”That”s fine. I usually am in bed early, anyway, unless I have an event.”
I narrow my eyes for a second.
”What?” he asks, his eyes wide with innocence.
”You don”t look like an early-to-bed kind of guy.”
He licks his full lips slowly while staring at me. My body ignites with heat in response. This man is dangerous on every level.
”I”m not going to say what I”m thinking right now.” There”s that lopsided smirk again. Damn him.
”Please don”t,” I snap. ”I”ll just head to my bedroom. You have a good night.”
I give him a ridiculous little wave and power-walk down a hall.
”Wrong way,” he calls out.
”Oh, shit,” I mutter, and walk back toward him. There are four hallways connected to this foyer, and in my exhaustion and confusion, I have no idea where the bedroom is.
”I”ve always had a difficult time with directions,” I confess.
”I”ll walk you there. Come.”
We stroll in silence down a dark hall, and my heart rate kicks up. Gabriel takes up so much space in confined areas like this, and it”s difficult to ignore my body”s response to him. Finally, we reach my bedroom door.
”I have something for you.” He reaches into his pocket and takes out a key. ”This is for the lock on your room. You”re free to go whenever.”
”Unless I want the story.”
We”re less than a foot apart now, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. He holds the key between us, and I clasp it, and his hand.
I don”t let go.
”Unless you want the story,” he murmurs.
For, like, the millionth time tonight, we stare into each other”s eyes. It”s shocking how every time we look at each other, I get a jolt of electricity, a charge of something so wholly unfamiliar that it almost makes me dizzy. Giddy, even. I can smell the cedarwood of his cologne mingling with the sweetness of the brandy on his breath. I”m drunk on the nearness of him.
If this were any other man, I”d swear this thing between us was fate.
He takes a small step toward me. I keep holding onto his hand, and the key, and I step back. We do this again, and again, slowly, until my back is against the wall. Now we”re six inches apart and you could pierce the sexual tension between us with a bullet. I don”t think either one of us has blinked for a solid sixty seconds.
”Are you going to let me have that key?” I whisper.
A little smile dances on his lips. At this point, most men would nod, or say something coy, or ask if they could have a kiss.
Not Gabriel.
He leans in swiftly and presses his mouth to mine, wrapping his strong arm around my waist.
I”m startled for a second, but he”s quick and wily, and uses that beat to pull me closer. The kiss steals my thoughts, robs me of oxygen. It”s hard and punishing, filled with enough electricity to obliterate the storm outside. The coiling inside me that”s been happening all night tightens even more, and I drink him in. He tastes like brandy, but something darker and dangerous, too. It”s the taste of erotic nights and stark passion, of whispered secrets that will be forgotten and promises of the future that will be ignored.
I moan as he fuses our mouths together. My body reacts to him instantly, heat rushing to my cheeks and making my heart slam against my chest. I let myself enjoy this moment—even as I worry how it will affect my future. And make no mistake. This will affect everything that”s to come.
I”m fucked, I just don”t know how hard yet.
I should break away from him, should run out of this house. But I can”t concentrate on anything but his lips and what they”re doing to me—melting my normally hard, rational insides into a thick, needy goo.
”Riley,” he whispers against my mouth.
I lunge for another kiss, not wanting to break this intense spell. His mouth is hot and wet and greedy, and his tongue is a velvet swipe across my lips. The taut muscles of his arm circle my body, and I can feel the scorch of his skin. The way my body fits into his, like a perfect puzzle piece, makes me want to cry out from both terror and recognition.
It”s frightening to feel what I”m feeling right now. To feel what I shouldn”t.
”Gabriel, no,” I pant, squirming away.
He allows it, although there”s a fire in his molten, dark eyes. A scowl on his brow, too.
”I”m sorry, I can”t...”
”Don”t apologize. Your reasons are your reasons. I”d never force you to do anything like?—”
”I need to sleep.” I flap my hands in the air, flustered to find that somehow he”s given me the key and I”m holding it. ”I”m just...tired.”
He steps back, running a broad hand through his black hair. He”s built like a god, his broad shoulders and carved cheeks, his chiseled jaw and full lips. He”s got a raw, animalistic energy about him, a change from his amused, polite expressions. Right now, he looks like a warrior out for blood, yet all I want is to bring him to his knees.
That might be the worst impulse I”ve had. No one brings Gabriel Greco to his knees, and I”m in no position to right now, or ever. Probably because I know he would break me, physically, mentally and emotionally, cracking my heart in two and licking out whatever love I have left to give.
”Of course, you should sleep,” he grinds out.
”Thank you for dinner,” I whisper, unlocking the door.
”See you tomorrow.” He seems like he”s having trouble catching his breath. I am, too.
I slip behind the door and shut it, making sure it”s locked to the fullest extent possible.
”Oh, fuck,” I whisper, collapsing on the giant bed. My insides are quaking, my breath is coming in short, shallow gasps, and I”m drenched between my legs. My chest feels tight and I don”t know why. I want Gabriel so badly, and I”m scared that I”m going to fall apart at any moment. This man kidnapped me. And yet, I came so close to dragging him into this bedroom and fucking his brains out.
This isn”t me! What is happening here? Am I under some kind of spell?
I can”t answer any of these questions, because my mind is only on him. On his intense kiss, his insistent touch. The way he stared at me possessively, and the way he politely stood aside when I said no, knowing it must have taken herculean restraint.
There are only a couple of things that will alleviate this desperate, needy feeling building inside me. One of them is walking down the hallway now—thank god—and I can hear his footsteps fade.
The other is in my hands, literally. I shove my fingers down the waistband of my pants, between my legs, to that wet and throbbing place.
I imagine him taking me upstairs to his bedroom, which would be as starkly beautiful as his office. He would take what he wanted from my flesh, because that”s the kind of man he is. He would pin me down, trap my wrists, clasp my slender throat in his big hand.
And he”d praise me. He”d tell me I was a good girl while clutching a fistful of my hair. He”d make me deep throat him, forbid me to touch myself, tell me that I was the best at sucking cock.
I”m positively drenched as I think about all the things he”d say to me.
I”m so proud of you, taking it all into your mouth.
Open your legs wide so I can see your pretty pussy.
Look at you, so beautiful and wet...
My middle finger circles the pulsing, traitorous bundle of nerves as I replay our kiss in my mind. That forbidden, 1000 percent wrong, totally sublime kiss with the city”s most powerful mafioso.