He took out his phone, decided to send her a text message rather than calling.
It’s cold outside.
The response was sharp: I’m sure your car is warm.
What if I say sorry again?
The door opened a minute later, and at first, he thought he was in. Then he saw her face. “Hey,” he said, reaching out to cup her cheek and jaw.
Turning into his touch, she pressed her lips to his palm but didn’t unfold her arms. “I don’t want sorry, Gabriel. I just want you to take care of yourself.”
“That’s what I have you for.” He kissed her, taking the chance that she wouldn’t push him away.
She didn’t, the kiss red-hot.
Pressing her hand to his chest even as she softened against him, she said, “You need to get some rest.”
“I’m starving.” He deepened the kiss, made sure she understood his hunger had nothing to do with food, his tongue stroking aggressively against hers.
Her nails dug into him through his shirt, and it was so damn good. He wanted Charlotte’s nails scratching him up, wanted to get wild and dirty and sweaty with her. Locking his muscles when his body urged him to haul her close, get rougher, he just kissed her until she was melting and soft; she didn’t resist when he nudged his way inside and kicked the door shut.
Stroking his hands down to her gorgeous ass, he lifted her up and pinned her against the wall, alert for any sign of fear. “Finally I see the sexy flannel pants,” he said as her legs came around him.
She bit him. It was a tiny bite on his lower lip, but it was a bite. He grinned, bit back. It made her shiver, the shiver rippling over her body when he slipped his hand under her tank top to fondle her bare breast.
She moaned. “We can’t just keep having sex.”
“Why not? We’ve got months of frustration built up.” Since he had no scruples when it came to being naked with Charlotte, he went for her throat.
“Oh, God, Gabriel.” Fingers tight in his hair, she seemed to lose her train of thought for several long, pleasurable minutes. He busied himself getting her tank top off, then leaned down to suck and taste the pretty breasts that made him want to do bad, bad, bad things.
“Touch my nape.”
He froze. Giving a final suck of one pouting nipple, he lifted his head to look into her eyes. “That makes you have a panic attack.”
Chest rising and falling in a jagged rhythm as her fingers flexed on his shoulders, she said, “I know. But I don’t want it to.”
“I’m not going to do anything that hurts you.”
A stubborn glint in her eye, teeth gritted. “I want to do this, Gabriel. I want to do everything.”
Gabriel pressed his hands palms-down on either side of her head, holding her up by the simple pressure of his body, her thighs locked around his hips. “What did Dr. Mac say?”
Her expression mutinous, she folded her arms over her naked upper body. “I know better than Dr. Mac what I need. I’m ready!”
Gabriel gripped her jaw, tilted up her face. “Do you know what it does to me when you flinch or go all stiff and scared?” Seeing the shadows, he shook his head. “I’m not saying I’m giving up, Charlotte. I’m saying I will not do something that I know will hurt you.”
She closed her hand over his wrist, her slender fingers holding him in place more effectively than any manacle. “It hurts me to be like this, to know that you’re always thinking.” Raw emotion in her voice, in her eyes. “I don’t want you to think when we’re intimate. I want you to let go.”
He couldn’t dispute her statement. He was always thinking, always making sure he didn’t handle her too roughly or touch her in any of the areas that traumatized her. But he also knew something else. “You couldn’t have handled any of this when I first started trying to get you naked.”
No smile at his words.
“We could do more damage than good by pushing it,” he said.
“I’m sick of being stuck in the past!”
The fury of her was a beautiful thing. “I’ll do what you want,” he said, holding up his hand when she began to smile. “If Dr. Mac tells me it won’t hurt you.”
A little scream. “Let me down.”
He did as she asked. There might be times he’d playfully hold her prisoner, but this wasn’t the right time for games. “Why are you mad? I’m trying to look after you!”
Pulling her tank top back on, she stomped off to the kitchen. “I want you to listen to me! Dr. Mac has only met me once. I know me! I know I’m ready!”
He watched her pull open her freezer, take something out. “What are you doing?”
“Defrosting a stew I made.” A glare. “Don’t expect to get fed next time you come home at a ridiculous hour.”
Warmth and anger combined inside him. Home. He liked her talking of them as being at home. He was also still pissed at her for trying to force him to hurt her. “What if we do this and it destroys all the healing you’ve done so far?”
“I’m not that weak.” She stabbed the buttons on the microwave, set it to humming. “If I fall, I’ll pick myself back up.”
“I don’t want you to fall!” he roared.
“You’re an overprotective Neanderthal,” Charlotte muttered but came over to cup his face in her hands. “I’ll talk to Dr. Mac tomorrow, and then you can go and talk to him. But we are doing this.”