Cheeks going bright red, she stamped one dainty foot. “That is totally inappropriate!”
“No rules outside the office, Ms. Baird,” he said, needling her on purpose because he liked her fiery, hated the defeat he’d seen in her. “Now come here and tell me what I did.” It was important she make the decision to stay, to start trusting him.
Gabriel could push and push hard, but he’d never force.
Glaring at him instead, she shoved up the sleeves of her cardigan and said, “I’m starving. You can learn to make sauce another time.” She began throwing things together in a small saucepan, the kitchen filling with a deliciously spicy scent minutes later.
A half hour after that, they were seated across from one another at the dining table located behind and to the left of the kitchen area, beside a large bank of windows that overlooked the city.
“You’re missing salad,” she muttered.
He wanted to haul her into his lap and tell her to stop being a hissing, bad-tempered kitten or he’d have to punish her—but he didn’t think Charlotte was ready to play those kinds of games. The playful threat might actually scare her. So he got to his feet, went to the kitchen and, grabbing a bowl, opened up a pack of premade salad he’d had in the fridge. He even found the special salad-serving utensils before putting the bowl on the table.
Charlotte took some salad, ate the pasta she’d whipped together, and looked out the window. “Don’t close me in.”
The words were so softly spoken that it took him a second to realize she’d answered his question. “It makes you feel claustrophobic?” he asked in an effort to get the exact parameters.
“Yes.”
“Any kind of crowding?”
“Sometimes… with you, it’s okay”—her eyes met his—“but I can’t predict when I’ll have a panic attack.” Her fingers clenched tight around the stem of her wineglass, Gabriel having opened a crisp white rather than a red because he knew Charlotte didn’t like red much.
“I want to crowd you,” he said, leaning back in his chair but maintaining the intimacy of the eye contact. “I want to pin you under me and fuck you hard, then I want to slam you up against pretty much every wall in this place. After which I want to bend you over my desk, my bed, this table. For starters.”
Charlotte’s skin flushed a hot pink, then paled, then went red, her eyes sparking fire. “Did you not hear what I said?”
“I heard.” He took a sip of his wine. “I’m just telling you what we’ll be working toward. Any problems with my goals?”
CHARLOTTE WASN’T SURE SHE wasn’t hallucinating. How could she possibly be at a glossy black dining table with her big, sexy boss, talking about sexual positions? It simply did not compute. Yet he was waiting for her answer with lazy male patience.
“I don’t know,” she said at last, and because this was a surreal, strange half dream, she admitted to her inadequacies. “I’m not very good at sex.”
Gabriel put down his wineglass and then he smiled that slow, sinful smile that made her nipples go tight and her body grow even more silkily damp—if he’d demanded her panties as he’d threatened, she’d have failed the test. Miserably.
“Ms. Baird, no one is good or bad at sex by themselves,” he drawled. “It’s a team effort, and you know I’m a team player.”
Charlotte’s breasts pushed against her bra. Those breasts weren’t huge by any stretch of the imagination, but right now they felt swollen and hot, achy in a way they’d never before felt. “What if I’m not?” she asked, fighting the memory of the things Richard had said to her, things she’d never told anyone, not even Molly, she’d felt so much shame.
“I’m an excellent coach,” Gabriel said, steely eyes holding a heat that mesmerized. “One who always gets the best out of my players.” His foot brushed hers under the table. “I also have a close and very personal interest in making sure you perform to your full potential.”
Charlotte was so out of her depth by now that she was barely treading water. Not only was she an emotional mess in general, she was so pitifully inexperienced that she’d no doubt embarrass herself if she tried anything with the man sitting across the table. The one who looked at her like he wanted to devour her in small, delicious bites.
“I have to go home,” she said, putting down her fork.
She couldn’t take any more, had hit her absolute limit.
Gabriel examined her with those incisive eyes. “I’ll drive you,” he said at last. “But finish your dinner first.”
“You’re not my boss here,” she snapped out of her frustration with herself, with the universe.
“Not in an employment sense,” he said. “But I do think you need some bossing around, especially when it comes to your health.”
Charlotte had seen that look on Gabriel’s face before; it was the one that denoted no mercy in a negotiation. She thought about getting up and walking out, but regardless of her inability to handle him, she wanted to do every scandalous thing he’d suggested.
While that wasn’t going to happen, not with her panic attacks shutting things down more effectively than a cold shower, she could be with him a little longer. Even if he was being bossy and all around provocative. Truth was, she liked that about him, liked that he always treated her as if he believed she had the strength to stand against him.