Chapter 23
Pillow Talk
Gemma
HOME SWEET HOME, it’s not.
Still, I’m thankful to have made it back alive. Sitting on the sofa, I place my palms on my jeans and force a deep breath, inhaling long past the point of calming myself, before exhaling.
Leaning my head back, I allow the cool air of the condominium to swirl against my skin, relishing the almost-forgotten feeling.
I feel different.
Thankful.
Glad to be alive.
Saved in a way I never have.
A thud startles me. I jump to my feet only to discover Caleb has unloaded the entire Range Rover. A day or two’s worth of stubble accentuates his square chin and full lips, and for some reason it makes my heart pound.
“Where do you want the artwork?” Caleb’s voice is smooth and dense, like fine chocolate caramels.
I turn and point. “In my bedroom at the end of the hallway.”
Placing two paintings under each arm, he strides past me. With my body on high alert, a rush of goose bumps coat my arms. In his wake, I find myself staring at his black cargo pants and tight t-shirt, and then without thinking about anything, I’m following him.
In the doorway, I watch the way his muscles flex as he carefully sets the pictures against the wall. The heavy sunlight streaming through the east-facing window envelops his big, strong body like a coat of armor.
My hero.
When he’s done, he slowly turns around and catches my gaze. Like two lightning rods connected by the strongest of currents, we stare at each other in a way we never have.
A yearning that needs to be satisfied.
A point that needs to be sharpened.
An edge that needs to be skated.
His gaze is fierce. Hungry. Wanting.
Color heats my cheeks. I’m blushing. I can’t be blushing. It’s a stupid damsel reaction.
And I’m no damsel.
Taking a step back, I blink away the connection, thinking it will end whatever is happening between us. However, when my eyes meet his again, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he starts stalking toward me. My heart starts to beat like a jackhammer. Each step he takes causes that heat to spread through my body like an inferno.
Torrid.
Hot.
Blistering until my entire body is blushing.
His expression seems to have turned into a mix of broken, angry torment. This is wrong. I should turn and walk away. I should tell him to go, but I don’t. I won’t.
The closer he gets, the more I tremble. It’s not from fear though. Still, I find myself backing against the wall.
“What do you want from me?” he says, stopping only inches away.
“The same thing you want from me,” I answer, my voice nothing more than a breathy whisper.
He rests a hand over my head and lowers his face. “I can’t fight this anymore.”
The warm buzz of being so close to him is intoxicating. “Is it wrong that I don’t want you to?” I question, looking up at him.
There’s nothing but heat radiating between us. Wave after scorching wave of endless sexual tension.
“Tell me, Gemma. What do you see in him?” he murmurs low and rough.
I gasp a breath. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
Caleb inches closer and wedges a knee between my legs. “Tell me, I need to know.”
“Nothing like I see in you.” It’s honest and raw and real.
A strangled sound leaves him on a groan.
“It’s true.”
His rough fingers touch my cheek and he feathers them over my face. “I hate to think about what almost happened last night.”
Last night.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper. The enormity of trying to figure out who wanted me dead is almost larger than the secrets Caleb harbors.
Leaning forward, his jaw tightens and bulges as if he’s trying to hold himself back and in pain because of it. “We need to talk about it,” he grunts, and I can feel his breath.
He’s close.
So close.
So tantalizingly close.
The bottled heat between us is too much. I need to cool down. A small sigh escapes my throat. “After I’ve taken a shower.”
He presses his hard body against mine. Before I have a chance to recall that Caleb is a threat as well, that he trespassed on Enrique’s property and was being hunted, that he tried to capture me at the warehouse without even knowing it was me, he hauls me just inside the bedroom and his hungry mouth crashes down over mine.
Hard.
Heated.
Demanding.
He’s a man taking what he wants, and although I am risking everything, I can’t help but love it, especially when his tongue pushes inward. In the hottest, most sensual way, he glides it over mine.
He isn’t just kissing me—he’s devouring me. In this kiss, there is no Enrique, no world where revenge is all I know, there’s just him and his hard body and soft mouth.
My heart is beating wildly.
His hands glide down my sides to my hips and I melt into him, becoming boneless and wanton. Wanton of him. A man I shouldn’t desire. Shouldn’t want. Shouldn’t have. Shouldn’t let take me. But I can’t live with shouldn’t anymore. I’ve lived with it for far too long.
I’m surprised at the way my legs wobble and shake when his teeth graze over my lips and nip at them. With him, I’m experiencing every sensation like it’s a first.
“I shouldn’t want this,” he says in a desperate, raspy voice.
Shouldn’t.
Shouldn’t.
That word, again.
My hands curl in his shirt and I block it out. Pretend I hear, I want this.
Rage and restraint bleed through his words when he speaks. It's like he’s a live wire. “You belong to someone else,” he breathes, his jaw clenching.
Belong. I despise the word. And yet, I pull back. Even with the space between us, it doesn’t break the teeter of desire we feel. Still, he’s right. I do belong to someone else. Belong. I belong. Yes, I belong to a man I don’t love but rather loathe. And to that man I’m an object. A thing. A possession. A toy, even.
In fact, I should tell Caleb the truth. Tell him that I don’t want the man who keeps me in this glass box.
Just as I open my mouth to speak, to spill the dark truth, I hear the front door open. “Gemma, angel, where are you?”
Fear stops my heart.
Enrique is here. And Caleb is in my bedroom.
Caleb’s gaze is shooting around the room for a way out.
I listen and hear the door close.
He’s closer.
Shoving my disappointment to the side, I act quickly and shove Caleb toward the bathroom. “Go in there. Open the window and take the fire escape down. It’s narrow and small, so hold on tight.”
Suspicion seizes his expression. “Why do you have an escape route?”
Fear and determination tremble through my bones. “Just use it.”
His thick throat bobs. “I can’t. He’ll ask where I am,” Caleb hisses, unhappy with my idea.
“I’ll make something up. I’ll tell him I felt sick and sent you out for medicine. Now go. He’ll kill us both if he finds us together.”
“Gemma, angel, where are you?”
“In here,” I answer, trying to steady my voice.
Caleb moves quickly, and he quietly closes the bathroom door. Sucking in a breath, I turn around just as Enrique steps over the threshold to my room and freezes.
Does he know where Caleb is?
Can he smell him?
Sense him?
Oh, God.
Hoping, no praying, he doesn’t, I pat my hair and then smooth my tank top. “Enrique,” I manage, “I wasn’t expecting you.”
His gaze shifts around my room. “I had to come,” he says, his voice so low I can hardly hear him. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”
He knows about last night.
He knows about last night, not Caleb.
Either his expression is truly stricken or he’s a really good actor, like me. With a nod, I avert my gaze but can’t stop the strangled noise that erupts from my throat. This is too much. Everything is too much.
As if he can’t hold back a minute longer, he hurries across the room. Reaching for me, he pulls me into his arms and holds me tight against his chest. “Oh, Gemma, angel, are you certain you are okay?”
The hold he has on me is so tight, I can barely breathe. “I’m fine. Caleb saved me,” I offer willingly.
“Yes, yes, I assumed he did.”
I glance up. “How do you know?”
He pulls my head back and palms my face. “Maria called me directly. Don’t worry, I sent a team down there to clean everything up. There won’t be any loose ends.”
Loose ends.
I’m certain he’ll make sure there aren’t any.
“I was just about to phone you,” I lie.
His gaze is searching. “You should have called me last night.”
“I’m sorry, Enrique, but it’s all such a blur. I think I’m still in shock.”
“Are you sure that’s why you didn’t call?”
Does he know something or is he acting paranoid? “Why else wouldn’t I call you?”
“Gemma, you know I don’t appreciate you questioning me.”
“I wasn’t. I’m sorry if you took it that way. I’m just still a little shaken.”
There’s a moment of uncertainty between us, but then he reaches for my hand and squeezes it tightly. “Did those men—hurt you, touch you in some way?”
I shake my head no.
“No bruises?”
Again, I shake my head no. They wanted to rape and kill me, but as long as I’m unmarked, I guess all is well.
“Thank God. I’m so thankful you’re okay.”
It doesn’t make sense, but I don’t think he had anything to do with what happened, he seems genuine, and I’m relieved. “I am,” I reassure him.
His eyes ignite with relief, and I hate that I notice the genuine emotion.
“I got the pieces,” I tell him with a smile.
Shock fills his gaze. “You did? I wasn’t sure after what happened you’d been able to retrieve them.”
Retrieve.
Like I’m a dog who asks how high when he says jump or runs as far as he’ll throw me a bone.
It makes me sick.
Subtly freeing myself from his hold, I point to the windows that he loves so much. “They’re right there. Let me show them to you.” This is the perfect opportunity to make some noise so that if Caleb hasn’t opened the bathroom window yet and gotten out, he can now.
It’s as I’m walking toward the wrapped packages that Enrique takes hold of my arm and tugs me back to him. “Where’s Caleb?” he asks, obviously just realizing he’s gone.
Lying comes so easily around him. “My stomach seems to be upset from last night. I sent him out to get me something to take care of it.”
His gaze is intense when he responds, “He left you alone? I should fire him for that.”
Trying to act like I don’t care, I respond with, “You could, I guess, but he did save my life last night. And, you should probably know, I might have threatened him with telling you he allowed me to suffer if he didn’t go get me some medicine right away.”
“But you said you were fine?”
“I am, now. As soon as I saw you, I felt better instantly.”
Enrique’s gaze darkens and he pulls me close once again. “This pleases me. I have missed you.”
“I missed you,” I lie.
His hands slide down my body. “Take these dirty clothes off,” he demands. “I want to make certain you are unharmed.”
Shit, I took things too far. “Enrique, I’m fine, and I want to show you the artwork.” I try to get out of his grasp.
He doesn’t let go of me. “Later, Gemma. You first.”
Oh, God, no, not now. I hope Caleb is gone. “But the pieces. I thought you’d be excited to see them.”
“I am. But I’m more anxious to see you.”
I stand still, unmoving, not responding to his demands.
“Gemma, you know I don’t like to wait,” Enrique rasps.
I’ve stalled long enough. The only thing I can do is comply.
Back to reality.