Chapter 8
THEA
Ican’t sleep.
I’ve spent two hours staring at the ceiling, listening to the house settle, my mind spinning through the events of the day.
I keep thinking about Amanda’s words, about Gabriel’s response.
Sai benissimo che lei è molto più che 'la servitù.
It was sexy as hell to hear him speak Italian.
But what did he say? And why do I care so much?
I finally give up. I throw off the covers and pad barefoot into the hallway, wearing nothing but an oversized New York Yankees t-shirt that hits mid-thigh. The house is dark, aside from the amber sconces on the walls, silent, except for the distant hum of the heating system.
I wander without purpose down the stairs, through the foyer, and past the living room where Amanda ripped into me earlier.
What the hell is the deal with that woman? I’ve never met her before, yet she talked to me like we were old enemies and she had a score to settle.
I enter the kitchen, half expecting to see Oscar seated at the small table by the window, where he usually is every morning, an espresso in one hand, The New York Times in the other. But it’s just me and the silver light of the moon.
After filling a glass with water and taking a long, slow sip, I start back into the hallway and toward the elevator. It’s not locked, so I hit the call button and wait. The doors open soon after, and I step into the small, capsule-like space.
Buttons three and four call to me. Four seems too intimate, where Gabriel’s office and bedroom are. But three seems just dangerous enough. I press the button, the elevator slowly and smoothly rising.
When I step out of the doors, the first thing I notice is the strange energy in the air of the third floor. Or maybe it’s just me, nervous at the idea of being somewhere I know I shouldn’t.
I consider turning back. And that’s when I see it—a sliver of warm light coming from beneath the door at the end of the hall.
I scan my memories of Oscar’s tour, when he told me what rooms were on the third floor—guest bedrooms, laundry, Gabriel’s study.
I know I should turn around, but I don’t. Instead, I keep moving toward the door as if being pulled by an invisible string. When I’m in front of it, I raise my hand and knock softly.
“Come in.”
His voice sounds rough, tired. Or drunk.
I push open the door, gasping at what I see on the other side.
Gabriel is seated in a leather armchair by the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
He’s completely naked.
I make a strangled sound.
He doesn’t move. Just watches me over the rim of his glass, totally unbothered by the fact that I can see everything.
“Thea,” he says casually, like this is perfectly normal.
I glance around the room. The space is similar to the library, but smaller, cozier. There’s a fireplace with a small sitting area in front of it, bookshelves, and a pair of leather armchairs positioned on both sides of a large, arched window.
“I—” My brain has officially short-circuited. “I didn’t mean to… I’ll just—”
“Close the door.”
“What?”
“Close the door. Unless you want Oscar to find you standing in the doorway wearing a shirt that barely covers your ass.”
Heat floods my face. I step inside and shut the door behind me, keeping my eyes firmly on the fire.
God, this is such a bad idea. It’s not too late to turn around, to rush out and hurry back to my room. I could say I was sleepwalking or something, pretend like nothing happened.
He takes a long, slow sip of his drink, as if he’s not buck-ass naked and sitting a dozen feet from me.
“Were you trying to escape again?” he asks conversationally.
“No.”
“Then what were you doing wandering around my house at midnight?” He raises his glass a bit. “Not to mention the little detail that you’re not even supposed to be on this floor. I’m certain Oscar told you, but if he didn’t, I’ll have to have a little talk with him.”
“He told me.”
Another sip. “Good. Then explain yourself, Thea.”
“It’s just… I couldn’t sleep.” I risk a glance at him, then immediately regret it. The man is built.
I jerk my gaze away. “Why are you naked?”
“It’s my house.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“I wasn’t under the impression that I owed you one.”
“I’m curious. Indulge me.”
“I don’t sleep well in clothes.” Another sip. “And I was hot.”
“So you sit here. In the dark. Drinking. Naked.”
“Is that a problem?”
“It’s weird.”
His mouth curves slightly, but I catch it. “You came to my study uninvited, Thea. I’d say we’re even.”
I cross my arms, acutely aware that I’m in nothing but a t-shirt and panties. “I knocked, and you invited me in.”
“It’s after midnight, and you’re on my private floor.” He sets his glass down and leans forward. “So I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?”
I don’t have a good answer, so I deflect.
“What did you say to Amanda?” I blurt. “Earlier. In Italian.”
His expression shifts and something flashes in his eyes.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, I think so. You were talking about me. I think you defended me. And I want to know what you said.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then he stands.
I take an involuntary step back.
I try not to stare, but I can’t help but look. His cock is long and thick, hanging heavily between his thighs. I lick my lips without thinking, heat spreading through my body.
“I told her,” he says slowly, stopping a few feet away, “that you are more than the help, and that she needed to leave before I made her leave.”
My breath catches.
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because she was out of line.”
“Oh.”
He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The heat of his touch, the casual intimacy of it, makes my stomach flip. “You should go back to bed, Thea.”
“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.”
“I don’t want thin.” He says the word like it’s a curse, like it disgusts him to even consider. His hands slide higher, cupping my full breasts, and I arch into his touch. “I want this. Soft. Real. You.”
He lowers his head and takes one nipple in his mouth. I cry out, my hands flying into his hair, and he groans against my skin.
“That’s it,” he says, licking my nipple just a bit more before switching to the other breast. “Let me hear you.”
His hands are everywhere—stroking, squeezing, worshiping. He maps every curve, every dip, like he’s memorizing me, like I’m something precious.
The wetness builds between my thighs, the tension growing. I open my eyes just enough to take in the sight of his cock. It’s long, thick, and gorgeous, glistening at the end.
“Gabriel, please.”
“Please what?” He kisses his way down my stomach, his stubble rough against my skin. I shiver with delight at every bit of it. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. I want… I need…”
He drops to his knees.
“Lie back,” he commands.
My back hits the cool wood of the desk as I do. He pulls me to the edge, draping my legs over his broad shoulders.
“You’re going to come on my tongue first.” His breath is hot against my inner thigh. “Then on my fingers. And then I’ll fuck you, understand?”
I nod, breathless.
“Say it.”
“I understand.”
“Good girl.”
When he lowers me to his mouth, I shatter.
His tongue works me with perfect precision—circling, sucking, flicking—and within seconds I’m writhing on the desk, totally at his mercy.
My hands fist in his hair.
“Gabriel… oh God…”
He hums against me, the vibration sending sparks up my spine. One hand grips my thigh, holding me open, while the other slides up to palm my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers.
It’s too much and not enough, and everything all at once.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against me. “Give it to me, Thea. Let go. I want to taste you.”
The first orgasm hits so hard I can barely stand it. I arch off the desk, crying out. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps licking me, his tongue circling my clit, as the orgasm relentlessly pulses through my body.
Before I can catch my breath, he’s standing, his fingers replacing his mouth. I whimper at how good it feels when he slides two of them inside.
“Still so tight.” His voice is rough. I can tell how turned on he is just by the way his voice sounds. “Even after I made you come. You’re going to feel incredible around my cock.”
“Please.”
“Not yet.” He curls his fingers, finding that perfect spot inside. The pleasure is on another level, white spots clouding my vision. “One more for me first.”
He finger-fucks me slowly, taking his time, his thumb circling my clit in maddening strokes. I’m already sensitive, already overwhelmed.
“Look at me.”
I force my eyes open. He’s watching me, his expression dark with hunger. The intensity of his gaze makes me clench even harder.
“Beautiful,” he says. “Absolutely fucking beautiful when you come apart for me.”
The second orgasm builds slower, stronger. It winds through me, coiling tightly. When it finally snaps, I shriek with pleasure, my body shaking on his hand. Just like the first orgasm, he guides me through it, not easing up until every last drop has been wrung out.
When the orgasm fades, he slides his fingers out and licks them clean, his mouth curving into a sexy, wolfish grin. Gabriel then steps between my legs and takes hold of his cock, lining it up perfectly at my entrance.
He stretches me, filling me completely. Gabriel groans as he buries himself deep, his forehead dropping to mine.
“Thea. You feel… Christ—”
He moves slowly at first, pushing into me with deep, rolling thrusts that make me see stars. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper.
“Harder,” I gasp.
He obliges.
The desk shakes with the force of his thrusts. Papers flutter to the floor. I don’t care about anything, except the way he’s filling me, claiming me, making me his with every devastating thrust.
“Touch yourself,” he orders. “I want to feel you come around me.”
I do as he asks, sliding my hand between us and circling my clit. He watches with burning eyes, his gaze locked on where we’re joined.
“That’s it. Dio, you’re così bella quando mi prendi. Perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”
The third orgasm builds even faster than the other two—almost too fast. I’m already so sensitive, so overwhelmed, that when he shifts the angle, hitting that perfect spot deep inside, I come apart.
“Gabriel. I’m… oh God—”
“Vieni per me,” he growls, his voice raw. “Adesso.”
I don’t need to speak the language to know what that means.
The pleasure is almost too much as I clench around him, pulling him over the edge along with me. Gabriel buries himself deep inside with a guttural groan, his hips stuttering, and I feel him pulse inside of me, hot and claiming and absolutely filthy.
“Sei mia,” he gasps against my throat.
We stay joined like that for a long moment, his warmth dripping out of me, both of us breathless.
When he pulls out slowly, I practically whimper at the loss. He cups my face, tilting it up to meet his gaze.
“You’re completely mine now,” he says quietly. “Do you understand?”
I should argue, tell him he’s insane.
Instead, I just nod.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
He kisses me. It’s soft this time, almost tender. Then he pulls me into his arms.
And for the first time since the auction, I don’t want to run.