Chapter Eighteen
Cate
His mouth moved from my lips to my jaw, trailing kisses down to my neck, and I made a sound that was definitely not dignified.
Oh God.
Oh God, his mouth.
What is he doing with his mouth?
That should be illegal. That is definitely illegal in at least three states.
His teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below my ear, and my knees actually gave out.
Completely.
Just—Nope, we’re done here; you’re on your own.
Gabriel caught me, his arm around my waist, and I felt him smile against my neck.
“You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough and amused.
“No,” I gasped. “Definitely not okay. My knees stopped working. Is that normal? That can’t be normal.”
He pulled back to look at me, and his eyes were so dark they were almost black.
“It’s normal,” he said, and then he kissed me again.
His hands slid under my shirt—oh God, his hands are under my shirt—and I felt the warmth of his palms against my skin.
This is happening.
This is actually happening. Gabriel Lyon’s hands are on my bare skin and I’m—I’m—Don’t think about it. Don’t overthink it. Just feel.
His fingers traced up my sides, slow and deliberate, and I shivered.
“Cold?” he asked against my mouth.
“No,” I breathed. “Opposite of cold. Very much the opposite.”
Smooth, Cate. Very articulate.
He smiled. I felt it against my lips, and then his hands moved higher, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts through my bra.
I gasped.
Actually gasped, like some kind of Victorian maiden who’d never been touched before.
Get it together, Cate! You’re a grown woman. You’ve done this before.
Okay, not with HIM. Not with someone who looks like THAT and touches like THAT and—Stop thinking!
His mouth moved to my collarbone, kissing, tasting, and his hands—oh God, his hands—cupped my breasts, thumbs stroking over the fabric.
“Gabriel,” I gasped, and his name came out like a prayer.
Or a plea.
Definitely a plea.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against my skin.
What do I want?
Everything. I want everything.
I want his hands everywhere. I want his mouth everywhere. I want...
“I—” I started, but my brain had completely short-circuited.
He pulled back to look at me, his hands stilling. “Cate?”
“I want—” I tried again, my face burning. “I want you to—to keep doing that. What you were doing. With your—with your hands.”
Oh my God, I sound like I’m twelve.
“With your hands.” Really? That’s what we’re going with?
But Gabriel’s eyes darkened even more, and his mouth curved into something that was definitely not a smile.
It was predatory.
Possessive.
Absolutely devastating.
“Like this?” he asked, his thumbs stroking again, and I whimpered.
“Yes,” I gasped. “Exactly like that. Please don’t stop.”
“I’m not going to stop,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’m going to touch every inch of you.”
Oh my God.
Oh my God, I’m going to combust.
Spontaneous human combustion is real, and it’s happening right now in Gabriel Lyon’s bedroom.
His hands moved to the hem of my shirt, and he paused, his eyes meeting mine.
“Can I?” he asked.
He’s asking permission.
Gabriel Lyon—confident, controlled Gabriel Lyon—is asking permission.
That’s—That’s...
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He pulled my shirt over my head in one smooth motion, and suddenly I was standing in his bedroom in just my bra and jeans.
Oh God.
Oh God, he’s looking at me.
He’s actually looking at me and I’m—I should have worn better underwear.
Why didn’t I wear better underwear? This is the most boring bra in the history of bras.
It’s beige. BEIGE. Who wears beige underwear?
Okay, to be fair, I didn’t know this was going to happen. I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t...
“You’re beautiful,” Gabriel said, and his voice was so sincere, so honest, that my brain stopped spiraling.
“I—what?”
“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, his hands coming up to cup my face. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Cate.”
Oh.
Oh my God.
Gabriel Lyon just said I’m beautiful.
Gabriel Lyon just said “fucking.”
I didn’t know he said “fucking.”
That’s—that’s really hot.
He kissed me again, and this time there was nothing slow or gentle about it.
It was hungry. Desperate. Like he’d been holding back and couldn’t anymore. His hands moved to my back, finding the clasp of my bra, and he paused again.
“Yes,” I gasped before he could ask. “Yes. Please, yes.”
He unhooked it with one hand—one hand, how is that even possible?—and slid the straps down my arms.
And then I was topless.
In Gabriel Lyon’s bedroom.
While he looked at me like I was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen.
This is surreal.
This is absolutely surreal.
I’m standing topless in front of my boss and he’s looking at me like—like...
“Fuck,” he breathed, and then his mouth was on my breast, his tongue circling my nipple, and I stopped thinking entirely.
My hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands, and I gasped his name. “Gabriel—oh God—Gabriel,”
His teeth grazed my nipple, gentle but firm, and I actually moaned.
Out loud. A full, embarrassing, pornographic moan that echoed in the quiet room.
Oh my God.
Did I just—I definitely just!
But Gabriel made a sound—low and rough and approving—and his hand came up to cup my other breast, thumb stroking over the nipple.
“You sound so good,” he murmured against my skin. “I want to hear you make that sound again.”
Oh my God.
He wants me to—he wants to hear me!
His mouth moved to my other breast, and his hand slid down my stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of my jeans.
“Can I?” he asked again, and I nodded frantically.
“Yes. Yes. Please. Yes.”
He unbuttoned my jeans with steady fingers—How is he so calm? How is he so controlled? I’m literally dying here—and slid the zipper down. Then he hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled them down, taking my underwear with them.
Oh God.
Oh God, I’m naked.
I’m completely naked in Gabriel Lyon’s bedroom and he’s still fully dressed and—This is not fair. This is completely unfair.
I reached for his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons.
“Off,” I gasped. “This needs to be off. Now.”
He smiled. Actually smiled, and helped me, his hands covering mine, guiding them. The buttons came undone one by one, and then I was pushing the shirt off his shoulders, my hands finally—finally—touching his bare chest.
Oh my God.
Oh my God, he’s—he’s perfect!
Absolutely perfect.
This is better than the towel situation.
This is better than any fantasy I’ve had for the past three weeks.
My hands explored his chest, tracing the defined muscles, the warm skin, and he made a sound that sent heat straight through me.
“Cate,” he murmured, and my name sounded like a prayer.
Or a warning.
I looked up at him, and his eyes were so dark, so intense, that I forgot how to breathe.
“Bed,” he commanded. “Now.”
Oh God.
Oh God, this is really happening.
This is...
He guided me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed, and then he was lowering me down, his body covering mine.
Oh.
Oh my God.
The weight of him.
The heat of him.
This is...
His mouth found mine again, kissing me deeply, and I felt his hand slide down my side, over my hip, between my thighs.
I gasped against his mouth.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his fingers stroking gently.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes, please, don’t stop.”
His fingers moved, exploring, and I felt him find the spot that made my back arch off the bed.
“There?” he murmured.
“Yes—oh God—yes!”
He circled slowly, deliberately, and I felt the pressure building, the heat coiling low in my stomach.
Oh God.
Oh God, I’m going to—already? That’s embarrassing. That’s definitely embarrassing. I should...
“Don’t think,” Gabriel said, as if he could read my mind. “Just feel.”
His fingers moved faster, and his mouth found my breast again, and I felt myself climbing higher, higher.
“Gabriel—I’m—I’m going to...”
“Let go,” he murmured against my skin. “I want to feel you come.”
Oh my God.
Oh my God, he just—he just said—My orgasm hit me like a wave, crashing over me, and I cried out his name, my hands fisting in the sheets.
Holy shit.
Holy shit, that was—that was—I couldn’t form words! Couldn’t form thoughts. I could only feel the aftershocks rolling through me as Gabriel’s hand gentled, stroking softly.
“You’re so beautiful when you come,” he murmured, and I felt my face burn.
He’s going to kill me.
Gabriel Lyon is going to kill me with words.
I opened my eyes—when did I close them?—and found him watching me with an expression that was equal parts satisfied and hungry.
“Your turn,” I gasped, reaching for his belt.
He caught my hands, stilling them. “Cate.”
“Please,” I said, looking up at him. “I want—I want to touch you. I want—”
I want everything.
I want to make him feel the way he just made me feel.
I want to hear him say my name like that.
He released my hands, and I fumbled with his belt, my fingers shaking.
Come on, Cate. You can do this. It’s just a belt. You’ve unbuckled belts before.
Okay, not HIS belt. Not while he’s looking at you like THAT.
But still.
You can do this.
The belt came undone, and I moved to his zipper, pulling it down.
He helped me push his pants and boxers down, and then he was naked too.
Oh.
Oh my God.
He’s—He’s—Okay, don’t stare. That’s rude. Don’t just stare at his—too late. Definitely staring.
But in my defense, he’s—he’s perfect!
Absolutely perfect.
This is unfair.
I reached out, my hand wrapping around him, and he made a sound that sent heat straight through me.
“Cate,” he gasped, and his hand covered mine, guiding my movements.
I stroked him, watching his face, watching the way his eyes closed and his jaw clenched, and his breath came faster.
I’m doing this.
I’m making Gabriel Lyon lose control.
This is—this is power.
This is—“Stop,” he gasped, his hand stilling mine. “I need—I need to be inside you.”
Oh my God.
Oh my God, yes.
Please.
He reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom, and I watched as he rolled it on with steady hands.
How is he so calm?
How is he so controlled?
I’m literally dying here and he’s...
He positioned himself between my thighs, his eyes meeting mine.
“Are you sure?” he asked, and his voice was rough but sincere.
He’s asking again.
Even now, he’s asking.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Please. I want this. I want you.”
He pushed inside slowly, carefully, and I felt myself stretch around him.
Oh.
Oh my God.
This is—this is...
He paused, giving me time to adjust, and I felt his hand cup my face.
“Okay?” he murmured.
“Yes,” I gasped. “More. Please. I need.”
He pushed deeper, and I felt him fill me completely.
Oh God.
Oh God, this is—this is perfect.
This is everything.
He started to move, slow and deep, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Cate,” he gasped, and my name sounded like a prayer.
“Gabriel,” I breathed back, and then we were moving together, finding a rhythm.
His mouth found mine, kissing me deeply, and I felt the pressure building again, faster this time.
Oh God.
Oh God, I’m going to—Again?
Already?
“I can feel you,” he murmured against my mouth. “I can feel you getting close.”
How does he know?
How does he—Oh GOD!
His hand slid between us, fingers finding that spot again, and I cried out.
“Come for me,” he said, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to feel you come around me.”
Oh my God.
Oh my God, he’s—he’s going to kill me.
Gabriel Lyon is going to kill me with words, and I’m going to die happy.
The orgasm hit me harder this time, crashing over me in waves, and I cried out his name, my nails digging into his shoulders. I felt him follow, his body tensing, his breath catching, and he gasped my name as he came.
Oh.
Oh my God.
We stayed like that for a moment, both of us breathing hard, our bodies still connected. Then Gabriel pulled out carefully, disposing of the condom, and collapsed beside me on the bed.
I stared at the ceiling, my heart still racing, my body still trembling.
What just happened?
What the hell just happened?
I just had sex with Gabriel Lyon.
I just had sex with my boss.
I just had the best sex of my entire life with my boss.
Oh my God.
Oh my God, what do I do now?
Do I say something? Do I leave? Do I...
Gabriel’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him, and I felt his lips press against my shoulder.
“Stop thinking,” he murmured.
“I’m not thinking,” I lied.
“You’re definitely thinking. I can practically hear your brain spiraling from here.”
Rude.
Accurate, but rude.
I turned to look at him and found him watching me with an expression that was soft and amused and completely devastating.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Everything.
I’m thinking about everything.
I’m thinking about how this changes everything.
I’m thinking about how I’m the nanny and you’re my boss and we just crossed every professional boundary that exists.
I’m thinking about how this was the best decision and the worst decision I’ve ever made.
I’m thinking about how I want to do it again.
Right now.
Immediately.
“I’m thinking,” I said carefully, “that this is complicated.”
“It is,” he agreed.
“And that we probably shouldn’t have done this.”
“Probably not.”
“And that I have no idea what happens next.”
His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb stroking my cheek.
“What happens next,” he said quietly, “is that we figure it out. Together.”
Together.
He said together.
Oh my God.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
He smiled. A real smile, soft and genuine, and kissed me. Slow and sweet and perfect. When he pulled back, he tucked me against his chest, his arm around me, and I felt myself relax into him.
This is insane. This is absolutely insane. But maybe—maybe it’s the good kind of insane.
“Cate?” Gabriel murmured.
“Yeah?”
“Stop thinking.”
I smiled against his chest. “I’ll try.”
“Good.”
We lay there in the quiet, our breathing syncing, and I felt my eyes start to close.
Tomorrow I’ll panic. Tomorrow I’ll spiral about all the ways this could go wrong. Tomorrow I’ll worry about Megan and the job, and what this means. But tonight—tonight I’m just going to stay here.
In Gabriel Lyon’s arms.
And let myself be happy.
Just for tonight.