Chapter 6 Gabriel
CHAPTER SIX
GAbrIEL
This isn’t normal for me.
I’ve had obsessions before, sure, but they’re always with solvable problems. Competitors, market shares, impossible deadlines—stuff you can dominate with money and power. But this? This is new. This is uncontrollable. She’s in my veins, and the harder I try to ignore it, the worse it gets.
By six, I’m in my penthouse, pacing the hardwood floors with my phone glued to my hand, trying not to look like a high school sophomore waiting for a text from his crush. The city lights shimmer outside the wall of glass, but all I see is Alice. Every damn detail burns in my mind.
The way she mutters under her breath when she’s annoyed. The pink flush creeps up her cheeks every time I push her buttons. The mouth that drives me insane, always set in this stubborn line like she’s bracing for battle.
I want her. No, scratch that—I fucking need her.
I change out of my suit and into a T-shirt and jeans, but time just seems to move more slowly. I’m wound tight, restless. I check the time. Fuck.
It’s only been four minutes since I last checked.
I’m insane. I know it.
I’m obsessed.
I order her favorite pizza and make damn sure it’s extra-large, extra cheese, all the toppings she asked for. Then I message Armand to let him know the pizza delivery is coming.
After wandering aimlessly around my apartment for a little while, I pour a scotch and sit by the window, glass cold in my hand, willing myself to calm the fuck down. I barely take a sip before my phone buzzes.
Armand
On the way up with your order.
Before I have time to respond, the elevator dings, and Armand steps into the penthouse, pizza box balanced effortlessly in one hand. He’s in his standard uniform of black suit, open collar, with a look that says he’s confused by my recent actions. Me too, friend. Me too.
He surveys me, eyebrow arched. "Will you need anything else from me tonight?”
“No. I won’t be leaving the building tonight. I’ll be having dinner with Alice on the eighth floor.”
“Very well.” He hands me the pizza and heads to the door. “Enjoy your dinner.”
“Thanks.” I grab the pizza and head for the elevator, bracing myself against the wall as the car hums down to the eighth floor.
I barely let the elevator stop before I’m out, stalking down the hall like a man on a damn mission.
The pizza box is hot in my hand, and I can smell the cheese and pepperoni wafting through the cardboard.
It’s not my usual style, showing up at a woman’s door with takeout like some overeager college kid, but—I don’t give a shit.
I want her, and I’ll do whatever it takes to convince her to give me the time of day.
I want to see her face when she realizes I listened, when she sees that I remember every word she says.
I knock on Alice’s door, telling myself to get a fucking grip.
The door swings open, and my brain shorts out.
Yoga pants. Sweatshirt. Bare feet. Hair up in a messy bun that begs to be taken down.
She’s so fucking adorable I almost drop the pizza.
Her face is scrubbed clean, eyes wide and blue, and I almost lose my shit.
I swear, I’m seconds away from dropping to my knees and worshipping her right here in the hallway.
Fuck. I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my life.
She blinks up at me, cheeks flushed, and gives me a smile that rocks me right down to the bone.
“Hey,” she breathes, almost like she can’t believe I actually showed.
I grip the pizza box tighter to keep from grabbing her and hauling her soft little body against my chest. “Hope you’re hungry, coffee girl,” I rumble, stepping right inside her space and making damn sure she knows I’m not going anywhere.
She snorts and rolls those big blue eyes at me. “I’m starving.”
She steps back, and I follow her into her apartment, pizza in hand, heart racing like a teenager’s. For the first time in my life, I have no idea what hoops I’m about to jump through.
And I fucking love it.
Alice’s apartment smells like fresh laundry and vanilla candles.
It’s maybe six hundred square feet—half the size of my master bedroom alone—but it feels more put-together than any place I’ve ever lived.
The sofa is navy, the rug is this geometric print that looks like something out of a hipster design magazine, and every surface is perfectly clean except the coffee table, which is covered in stacks of brightly colored sticky notes and a battered spiral notebook.
She closes the door behind me, hair bouncing as she does, and I realize I’ve already lost my goddamn heart.
"Do you mind eating on the sofa?" she asks, already opening a kitchen cabinet and pulling out plates.
"Not at all," I say, which sounds uncomfortably like 'I will do anything you say,' but, at this point, it’s the truth.
I follow her to the couch, pizza box in hand, feeling completely at home.
She drops onto the sofa, pulls her feet under her, and snags a slice.
Cheese stretches out in a glistening string from her mouth, and she just grins around it, eyes closing in bliss.
"Oh my God," she says, still chewing. "This is so good. "
I take a slice, more cautiously, and watch as she absolutely demolishes hers in about four bites.
Fuck. I love watching her eat. She groans, licking cheese from her lip, and I’m one hard breath away from tossing the pizza and devouring her instead.
Goddamn, I’m so obsessed with this girl it’s not even funny.
I force myself to take a slow bite, but all I can focus on is Alice, curled up next to me on the couch, looking like every filthy daydream I’ve ever had and a few I’m going to invent just for her.
She goes back for seconds, dropping a perfect triangle of pizza onto her plate and leveling me with a look.
“What?” she shoots, like I’ve accused her of robbing a bank.
“I love watching you eat.” I can’t help grinning.
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile lurking at the corner of her mouth. “That’s because you’re a weirdo.”
God, I love her mouth. “Nope. It’s because you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and I can’t decide if I want to feed you or fuck you.”
She chokes on her bite of pizza and covers her mouth, blue eyes huge. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, coffee girl.” I lean in, enjoying every second of her shock. “Every time you make that little sound when you’re chewing, I have to tell myself not to throw you over my shoulder and haul you to the bedroom. You have no idea what you do to me.”
Her cheeks go bright red. “You’re insane,” she mutters, but I can see the way her pulse is pounding in her throat.
“Probably.” I take a bite of my pizza. She tries to pretend she’s not flustered, but her hands are shaking as she wipes a smear of cheese off her lip. Fuck. I want to suck it off for her. I want to get on my knees and taste every inch of her, starting with that sassy mouth.
She sets her plate down and crosses her arms, blue eyes blazing as she glares at me. “Do you always come on this strong, or am I just special?”
I can’t help laughing. “You’re special, coffee girl.” I lean in, letting my thigh press against hers, loving the way her breath hitches and her pupils go wide. “I want you. And I always get what I want.”
She huffs and rolls her eyes, but I can see the little tremor run through her. “Well, just so you know, I don’t make things easy for cavemen.”
“Good,” I growl, zero hesitation. Fuck. I want her exactly like this—mouthy, challenging, ready for a fight. My cock throbs behind the zipper of my jeans, and I have to force myself not to just toss her over my shoulder and claim her right now.
Instead, I lean in closer, letting my thigh press against hers, loving that little hitched breath she gives when my body crowds hers on the couch. “I don’t want easy, Alice. I want you. Every stubborn, sassy inch.”
She just glares at me, but her cheeks are pink, and she’s breathing way too quickly for her to be as unaffected as she pretends. "Okay, I have to know—why me?"
The question floors me. I want to say it’s because she’s gorgeous, or because she makes my blood pressure spike, or because her laugh is the only sound that’s ever made me forget myself.
But all that comes out is, "You’re real.
You don’t care about who I am, just how I act.
You make me nervous. Nobody’s ever done that before. "
She blinks again, and for a split second, I think she’s going to laugh, but she doesn’t. She just looks at me like she sees something she likes.
"That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me," she says softly.
We eat in silence for a while, except for her making little moans of contentment every time she takes a bite. Every noise goes straight to my cock, which is both mortifying and exhilarating. I do my best to play it cool, but I’m pretty sure she knows what she’s doing to me.
When we’re about halfway through the pizza, she wipes her hands on a napkin and stands up, stretching her arms above her head.
The sweatshirt lifts just enough to show a sliver of her soft stomach, and my mouth goes dry.
"Have you ever watchedTraitors?” she grabs the remote and flops back onto the couch, landing even closer than before.
I shake my head. "No. I don’t watch much TV."
“I’ll have you addicted by the end of the night.” She snorts again, then hits play. Fuck. She has no idea.
I can’t help but watch her more than the screen. The way she leans forward when the host drops a bombshell. The way her mouth drops open in shock, or how she throws her arms in the air when her favorite gets voted off.
After a few episodes, I’m invested. Not in the show, but in her. I want to memorize every expression, every laugh. I want to know what she’ll do next.
At some point, she turns and catches me watching her instead of the screen. "You’re not even paying attention," she teases.
"I’m paying attention to the important part," I say, voice low.
Her cheeks go pink, and for a minute, she looks shy. She tugs her knees up to her chin, hiding her smile behind her legs. "You’re impossible."
"I’ve been called worse," I say. "But you seem to handle me just fine."
She laughs, then goes quiet. "I don’t know what this is," she admits. "I’m not… I don’t date either, not really. I’m a mess. I like things simple. I like routines. You’re… you’re not routine."
"It looks like we’ll have to figure this out together.”
For the first time, she doesn’t have a comeback.
We watch another episode, this time in companionable silence. I let my hand rest on the couch between us, close enough that our fingers almost touch. After a while, she shifts, and her hand slides over mine, warm and small and perfect.
I don’t move. I don’t speak. I just watch her, burning every detail into memory.
When the credits roll, she stands and stretches again, yawning. "It’s getting late," she says, a little regretful. "I’m usually in bed by ten."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
She walks me to the door, then pauses, looking up at me. "Thank you. For the pizza. For…" she waves a hand, as if to sum up the whole weird night. "For everything."
I want to kiss her. I want to slam her up against the wall and show her exactly what she does to me. But instead, I just gently touch her cheek, like she might break if I tried anything rougher.
She smiles, and it’s the softest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.
"Good night, Gabe," she says, voice barely above a whisper.
"Good night, Alice," I reply and lean down to cover her soft lips with mine. Fireworks erupt behind my closed eyelids. She melts against me with a tiny gasp, and I nearly fucking lose it. Her taste, her scent, the little tremor in her body when I deepen the kiss. She’s so soft and sweet, nothing like the brash, sassy girl she pretends to be. I want to devour her whole.
I slide my hand along her jaw, thumb brushing the curve of her cheek, and tip her head back so I can kiss her deeper.
Her mouth parts for me, and holy hell, she lets out a tiny moan that might short-circuit my brain.
I grip the doorframe behind her to keep from pinning her to the wall and taking what I want.
It’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done.
She clings to my shirt, little hands fisted in the cotton, and I feel her heart pounding through every inch of her. It takes every ounce of control I possess to pull back and lay my forehead against hers. “See you soon, coffee girl.”
“Bye.” She smiles as I walk back to the elevator, heart pounding. I have no idea what comes next. All I know is, I’m all in.
And I’m never letting her go.