“Why would you do that?” she blurted out, her usual filters shredded.
“What?” said the big, gorgeous lion next to her.
“Never mind.” Taking the onion, she cut off a piece. “Dice this.” Then she picked up half a handful of fresh basil leaves, washed them off, and put them next to the chopped tomatoes.
Finishing dicing the onion, he left a neat pile on one side of the board. “Tell me, Ms. Baird.”
Oh God, how had she gotten herself into this?
Charlotte’s throat was suddenly bone-dry. Grabbing the glass of juice he’d poured, she took a long drink. And remembered what Molly had said to her back when Gabriel had first entered her life.
Be brave.
Charlotte had said the same back to Molly, and now her best friend was living a Technicolor life full of adventure, love, and passionate happiness. It was a future neither one of them could’ve predicted.
Being brave had its rewards.
That thought in mind, Charlotte spoke her question before she could talk herself out of it. “What you said, about the desk. Why would you do that?”
Gabriel stilled. “Because having you come against my mouth would be the biggest fucking turn-on.”
17
PRIVATE GAMES WITH A T-REX
CHARLOTTE PUT DOWN THE glass, her fingers trembling.
“No,” she said, fighting her damn throat-choking shyness to get the words out, “I mean, there’s nothing in it for you.”
Charlotte knew about oral sex, knew men liked to do it sometimes, but she wasn’t one of those pouting, sensual creatures who could bring the male sex to their knees. Richard had liked her at the start, and he’d had zero interest in it. Gabriel was about a thousand times more masculine than Richard, a million times sexier. Women probably went to their knees in front of him at the snap of his fingers.
She hated that image, hated it so much that she erased it from her mind with a vicious mental swipe.
“I’m not that altruistic, Ms. Baird, you know that.” He played with a loose tendril of her hair again, twining it around his finger, then releasing it. “I always get something.”
Swallowing, Charlotte looked up to meet his eyes, lost her breath at the dark intensity of his focus. “Wh…what”—she coughed in an effort to clear her throat—“would you get out of that?”
A slow smile that made her stomach tie itself into knots so tangled, she wasn’t sure they would ever unravel. “Well,” he said, shifting closer and backing her up until her spine hit the opposite counter, “quite aside from having feasted on the delicious taste of you, I’d have you all wet and limp on my desk with your skirt hiked up to your waist.” He pressed closer, his erection thrusting against her abdomen. “It’d take me a second to unzip myself and—”
Charlotte was okay. She was fine. She was dealing with him, being aroused by him, and then without warning, her rational mind just shut down. Panic blinded her in a slapping wave, freezing her into place.
GABRIEL SAW THE CHANGE in Charlotte, felt it. She’d been a bundle of nerves before, but she’d also been a willing participant in their private game, her skin dewy and her lips parted. Now she was stiff and brittle enough to break. Backing off at once, he put plenty of distance between them and, because he was so fucking angry at the bastard who’d hurt her, picked up the knife and diced the damn tomatoes into mush.
He was aware of her staying as quiet and as motionless as a mouse who’d sensed a predator for at least three long minutes before she released her white-knuckled grip on the counter and turned to shakily pick up the half-full glass of juice. When she put it down after emptying it and went as if to exit the kitchen, he gave in to the snarl inside him.
“You planning to leave me to starve?”
She turned on her heel, all big, bruised eyes in a delicate face he wanted to cup in his hands as he kissed her, coaxed her, taught her he’d never ever lay a finger on her in violence.
“I-I’m s-sorry.”
Gabriel could’ve killed at that instant—specifically the person who’d created this terrible, overwhelming fear inside his tough little assistant. “Don’t be sorry,” he said in a voice that wasn’t as non-snarly as he’d intended. “Teach me to make this sauce, then teach me what I did that set you off so I don’t do it again.”
Charlotte didn’t move, just stared at him through the clear lenses of those glasses that drove him nuts. He had a host of fantasies in which she was wearing nothing but the specs, her hair up in that little bun he usually hated, and maybe a string of long pearls that he— Stop, he told himself when his cock began to harden again. He was moving way too fast, and he needed to chill if he was going to have any chance of earning Charlotte’s trust.
“Again?” she said at last, her voice small.
“Ms. Baird,” he said, using her formal title because it made her pay attention, “have I or have I not made it clear that I would like you in my bed?”
Teeth sinking into her lower lip, she nodded.
“So,” he said, folding his arms and leaning his hip against the freestanding counter, “why would you think one hiccup would stop me?” He raised an eyebrow. “Especially since you’ve been working with me long enough to know that nothing stops me when I have my eye set on a goal.”
Charlotte drew in a long breath, released it slowly. “I don’t know if I can.”
“If you tell me you don’t want me, I’m going to demand you give me your panties to prove they’re not damp.”