Chapter 21
Gabe
The plan comes together all afternoon. Evie takes over the desk, preparing so she’s ready to hit the ground running. She’s a marvel to observe. Focused. Driven. Relentless.
She was dismayed that we couldn’t catch a flight today—frustrated when the one available option required three connections and would’ve taken longer than just waiting. Her father’s travel agent found us a direct flight to JFK tomorrow morning. We’ll be in DC two hours after landing.
Lunch was room service. Dinner hasn’t yet happened. The sun set hours ago, the lake outside now black glass reflecting moonlight. We lost the afternoon to planning, and the evening after that.
The world has narrowed to this room. To her.
I move behind her at the desk, brush her hair aside, and press my thumbs into her shoulders. She drops her head forward and releases a soft moan.
“That feels good.”
“You ready for a break?” I ask. “Hungry?”
“Yeah.” She closes the laptop lid. “I’ll review again tomorrow on the flight.”
My hands work deeper into the knots along her shoulder blades. She’s been hunched over that screen for hours, tension coiled tight in every muscle.
“You’re wound up,” I say quietly.
“I know.” Her voice is softer now. Tired. “I can’t stop thinking about what happens when we land.”
“Then don’t think about it.” I lean down, lips close to her ear. “Not tonight.”
She turns slightly, incredulous eyes finding mine. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“Let me help.”
Her breath hitches. Just slightly. But I hear it.
And with that slight reaction, I’m confident I can distract her.
I slide my hands down her arms, pulling her up from the chair. She rises slowly, turning to face me.
“Gabe—”
“You’ve been at it all day,” I say, voice low. “Take a break. Let go.”
The corner of her lips turn up as her palm flattens on my chest. “Any recommendations for how to spend my break?” Her lips twist into a flirtatious smile on the word break.
“One or two.” I pull her close, so close that she tilts her head back to hold my gaze. “Tonight, there are definitely things we can do.”
My thumb brushes her lip, and I caress her jaw. Those deep brown eyes of hers flicker, and I swear I find myself memorizing the caramel hue, the golden flecks of color.
She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, and when she releases it, I lower, wanting my turn to nibble.
“And tomorrow?”
Her words slow me, and I pull back, cupping her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone.
“Tomorrow, we fight.” I brush my lips softly over hers. “But tonight? You’re mine.”
I sound possessive because I am.
She doesn’t pull away.
“Say yes,” I urge.
If she says no, that there’s more she needs to do, I’ll back away. I’ve observed Evie and Scott enough over the years to know that she resents commands. She’s a woman who values her own voice, as she should.
“Yes.”
That’s what I wanted to hear.
I kiss her then. Not soft. Not tentative.
Hard. Claiming.
She gasps against my mouth, and I take the opening, deepening the kiss, tasting her. My hands slide to her waist, pulling her flush against me so she can feel exactly what she does to me.
“Gabe—,” she says on a breath when I break away.
“Bedroom,” I say. “Now.”
She blinks, pupils blown wide.
Too much?
Where’s the line?
She nods.
I take her hand and lead her across the suite. The bedroom is dim, curtains still open, the moonlight casting soft shadows across the bed.
I stop at the foot of it and turn her to face me.
“Tell me if I push too far, too hard,” I say, hand on her breast, thumb brushing back and forth over her clothes, warming her nipple.
“You won’t.”
“Evie—”
“I trust you.” Her voice is steady. Sure. “Show me what you like. How you like it.”
That I can do.
I want to see if my suspicions are correct—if there are areas of Evie’s life where she’s more than willing to cede control.
I reach for the hem of her shirt and lift it over her head in one smooth motion. She raises her arms to help, and then she’s standing there in her bra and jeans, breathing fast, eyes bright.
“Thought you might be a little rougher than that,” she whispers.
I cluck my tongue. “Hush. I choose the pace.”
I unhook her bra and let it fall. My hands cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She arches into the touch.
“You’re so responsive,” I murmur. “I love that about you.”
“Gabe, please—” Her gaze drops, taking in my hold on her.
“Please what?”
“Touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
“More.”
I smile against her forehead. “Greedy.”
“For you? Yes.”
I turn her around, guiding her forward until her knees hit the mattress. She braces her hands on the bed, looking back at me over her shoulder. “I think you’ve forgotten that I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
I bite back a grin. Her dark hair cascades over one shoulder, and the moonlight casts a haze over her back and the side of one breast. A goddess.
“Stay like that.”
I unbutton her jeans, slide them down her hips along with her panties. She steps out of them and kicks them to the side. Now she’s bare, bent forward, hands on the bed, completely exposed.
And she doesn’t move.
“Good girl,” I murmur.
Her hips shift as her knees bend then straighten.
I run my hands up the backs of her thighs, over the curve of her ass, up her spine. She shivers under my touch.
“You’re beautiful,” I say. “Do you know that?”
“Gabe—”
“Say it.”
Her ass presses into my palm as I caress her.
“I—” She hesitates.
“Say it, Evie. Tell me you know how beautiful you are.”
“I’m beautiful,” she whispers.
“Again.”
“I’m beautiful.”
“And sexy as fuck.”
She bites back a laugh. It’s not a giggle. My Evie doesn’t giggle. “I’m not saying that.”
I lean forward to nip her ear, then brush my lips along her lobe, to the spot along her neck that has her pressing her hands harder into the mattress.
“But you are.” I lean over her, lips at her ear. “And you’re mine.”
She moans softly.
I straighten and strip off my own shirt, then my jeans, leaving them on the floor. When I press against her from behind—skin to skin—she gasps.
“Feel that?” I ask, grinding my hips, my length flat against her. “That’s what you do to me.”
“I didn’t know.”
I find that hard to believe, but she pushes back against me, and the pressure is spot on.
“Say my name.”
I reach around her, cupping her breasts.
“Gabe.”
I tweak her nipples. “Again.”
“Gabe—”
I slide my hand between her legs, finding her slick and ready. “Fuck, Evie. You’re soaked.”
She whimpers, hips rocking to press herself into my hand.
“You like this,” I say. Not a question.
“Yes.”
“You like me taking control.” That’s what I wondered. Hoped.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I like—” Her voice cracks as I circle her clit. “I like you taking control.”
“Good.” I add pressure, rhythm, and she’s gasping, thighs trembling. “You’re going to come like this first. Just from my hand.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” I lean over her again, free hand splayed across her stomach, holding her steady. “Let go, Evie. I’ve got you.”
I kneel behind her, trace her slit with my tongue, my fingers still moving between her folds, spreading her legs so I can do more, access more, taste more.
I tease her with rapid movements, then slow ones, then with pressure. When her thigh muscles tighten, she flattens her back, pressing into me, I know she’s close, and I round her, and apply my mouth, sucking.
She comes with a choked cry, clenching around my fingers, body shaking.
I don’t stop. I keep the pressure steady, drawing it out until she’s gasping, barely holding herself up.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her lush ass. “Now get on the bed.”
She crawls forward, collapsing onto her stomach, and I follow her.
“Roll over,” I say.
She does, eyes glassy, chest heaving.
I grab a condom from the nightstand, tear it open, roll it on. Then I settle between her thighs, braced above her.
“Look at me,” I say.
Her eyes open, finding mine, hazy and unfocused for a beat before they sharpen.
“This is mine,” I say, pressing forward slowly, gaze locked on my sheathed cock, sliding it through her folds, teasing her with the tip. “You are mine.”
“Yes.”
I sink into her fully, and we both groan.
“God, you feel—” I don’t finish. Can’t.
I start to move. Not slow. Not gentle.
Hard. Fast. Taking what I need.
She feels good. Too good.
I set a brutal pace. One hand gripping her hip, the other sliding up her spine, fisting in her hair.
Not to hurt. Just to hold. To claim.
I slap the side of her ass. Once. A pop.
Those brown eyes look back at me, surprise—maybe a little defiant.
I lean forward, wanting her lips.
The angle’s not right, so I pull out and rearrange her, back on the bed, and I take those lips.
We fit together again smoothly, like we’ve been doing this forever.
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper.
“This. We held off too long,” I say between thrusts. “Should’ve done this years ago.”
I pull back, lifting her legs, resting both calves against my shoulders.
“This continues.” I grip myself and slide it between her folds, lifting my gaze to meet hers. “You don’t block me out.”
“I won’t—”
I press into her in one hard thrust.
She tilts her head back, gasping.
“Promise me.”
“I promise—”
I thrust my hips and rock into her.
“Say my name.”
“Gabe—”
“Again.”
“Gabe—”
I shift the angle, hitting deeper, and she cries out.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “Use that voice.”
Her nails dig into my arms, and I know she’s close again.
But just to be sure, I help her along, circling her nub, applying pressure just the way she likes it.
“That’s it. Let go. Come for me, Evie.”
She does—clenching around me so tight I nearly lose it.
But I hold on. Just barely.
I pull out, earning a whimper of protest.
“Roll to your side,” I say.
She blinks up at me, dazed.
“Now, Evie.”
She rolls to her side, and I lie behind her. She understands, raising her leg.
She’s so wet that I take her again with ease, sliding right back home.
The angle is different—she’s closer. Lying like this, I can teaser her nipples, and her center.
“Mine,” I say again. “Say it.”
“Yours.”
“Again.”
“Yours, Gabriel—I’m yours—and you’re mine.”
That breaks me.