“Charlotte,” he said in an echo of her tone, and then he kissed her.
It was a brush, nothing more, but it was a kiss.
Breathless despite the short contact, she bit down on her lower lip and blurted out, “You don’t mind?”
It should’ve been a nonsensical question, but Gabriel’s eyebrows drew together. His answer was a growl of sound. “That you’re a fucking amazing woman? No.”
Charlotte didn’t know which aspect of his statement to respond to first. Jumping off the branch, she turned to him, her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe you just growled at me after what I told you!”
Arms folded, he leaned back against the branch. “I’ll do more than growl if you repeat that particular question.” He ran his eyes down her body, lingering on her breasts, her hips, her thighs, before coming back up to her lips. “I might just put my hand in your panties or my mouth on your pussy and tease you until you’re screaming for an orgasm and not give it to you until you say ‘Sorry, Gabriel. I can’t believe I’d ask such a ridiculous question.’”
Hands pressed to her cheeks, Charlotte looked around. Thankfully, no one was close enough to have overheard his sinful response. “I’m going for a walk.” She needed to cool down, her breasts swollen and the place between her thighs throbbing as it never had before a certain T-Rex.
Of course he came after her, placing his hand on her lower back in a way that had already become familiar and walking with her toward the fountain. Her emotions were all akilter. She’d expected to feel broken and lost after her confession, and shards of pain lingered, but overwhelming it all was flustered delight. Charlotte didn’t know if she could get over her fears to the point where she no longer had to worry about panic attacks, but it meant everything that Gabriel hadn’t written her off.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked as they reached the flower clock.
“No.” She’d been too nervous. “I make really good pancakes.” Cooking was her outlet, her sport, and she needed to do some right now. “I think you have almost all the ingredients—it’ll only take us a couple of minutes to pick up some bananas if you’d like banana pancakes.”
“Well,” Gabriel said, his lips curved in a way that made her breath hitch, “I was going to take you out, but since I’d much rather have you in my lair, all to myself, I’m sold.” He leaned in to press a wickedly sweet kiss to her cheekbone. “I promise I won’t devour you unless you ask very nicely.”
23
A KISS TODAY, NAKEDNESS TOMORROW
GABRIEL SAT ON A breakfast stool he’d brought over to the freestanding counter and sliced some strawberries for Charlotte as she padded around barefoot in his kitchen. She’d taken off her shoes and her cardigan, the spaghetti straps of her pretty sundress exposing the elegant line of her throat, the gentle curves of her shoulders.
“Do you want chocolate chips in yours?” she asked with a sunny smile.
He shook his head, wanting to reach over and tumble her into his lap, have her for his breakfast. “Just plain banana for me.”
Staggered by what he’d learned, by her courage, he hadn’t at first known what to do. He was so angry for her, but the monster who’d brutalized her wasn’t here for him to hurt, and Charlotte didn’t need more violence. Then she’d refused to look at him after wiping away her tears, and he’d known exactly what he had to do: let her know she was beautiful and sexy and everything he wanted. He’d figured the woman who’d survived a cowardly psychopath could survive some blunt sexual teasing.
He’d been right.
Eating a strawberry, he lifted another perfect, glossy berry. “Come have a bite.”
Leaning across the counter, she closed her teeth and lips over the bottom half of the berry, eyes closing in bliss. “Mmm, so sweet,” she said, going back down on her feet.
He groaned and ate the other half. “You have no idea what it does to me to see you put things into your mouth.”
Freezing in the act of turning to the black glass cooktop that was apparently something fancy that made her burst out in raptures, she shot him a look that made his cock go rock hard. Her cheeks were flushed, yes, but her eyes held sensual awareness. And then his Ms. Baird did something utterly unexpected.
She lifted a finger to her mouth and sucked on it, her cheeks hollowing.
“Fuck!” He got up, was halfway around the counter before he realized she hadn’t moved, finger no longer in her mouth. Forcing himself to stop, he thrust his hands into his hair. “Pancakes,” he said. “I’ll have you later.”
She returned to the cooktop, but her actions were jerky. He could’ve left it, but that wasn’t who he was; walking back to his seat, he ate a few of the chocolate chips she’d bought when they picked up the fruit. “Was it how fast I moved?”
Her shoulders went stiff, but she nodded.
“So,” he said, staying in position when his instinct was to go over there and stroke his hands down the smooth warmth of her arms, kiss a line up the curve of her neck, “if I walk around the counter and slide down one of the straps of your dress and press my lips to your shoulder, what happens?”
“I… I d-don’t know.” She poured in batter for a pancake.
He waited until she flipped it onto a plate before getting up. He expected her to turn, and she did, just enough that she could see him. Maintaining eye contact, he came close enough that her shoulder brushed his chest.