CHAPTER SEVEN
Gabriel balled up his napkin and tossed it onto the table. The chair opposite him had remained stubbornly empty the whole evening and he supposed he deserved it.
No supposing. You did deserve it.
Irritated, he sat back and took another cursory look around the hotel restaurant. Another example of thought and great workmanship. The place had a quietly luxurious vibe to it, lots of vaulted ceilings and exposed roof beams. A huge brick fireplace with a roaring fire. Tables in alcoves with armchairs for seating and lots of crystal glasses and snow-white tablecloths. During the day there were probably views out across the lake but the outside was now in darkness, the only thing visible was the snow heaped up outside the glass, making the interior feel warm and cozy.
There were a few other guests lingering over their meals but no sign of Honor.
When he’d phoned down to the cottage about dinner, she’d said that she’d possibly join him or possibly wouldn’t. But not to expect her.
He’d thought she’d come just to spite him. To show him she wasn’t going to let their last interchange get to her. Yet she hadn’t turned up.
For some reason that annoyed him. Like she was backing down or conceding him the challenge. A disappointing thought when so far, she’d proved a fucking fantastic opponent.
Still, maybe this was part of her plan. Getting him to sit here alone through dinner while she stood him up. And yeah, he did deserve it.
Reaching out, Gabriel picked up his glass and swallowed the dregs of the beer he’d ordered to go with his steak. Then he set his jaw as he put the glass down, casting another glance at the doorway. Still no Honor.
Shit, he had made a mistake in bringing Alex up, but then he hadn’t been expecting her to see through him like that so easily. He should have known though. He’d meant every word when he’d told her she was smart, because she was. Very.
Which was going to make her eventual capitulation to him all the sweeter.
How long had it been since he’d played such a complicated, delicate game with a woman? Fucking never and Christ, he was enjoying it more than he’d ever thought possible.
He was quite certain he was going to win their little game, of that he had no doubt. But getting there was the interesting part. After all, an easy victory was no fun for anyone.
A waiter approached the table. “Would you like anything else, Mr. Woolf?”
“Not here,” he said shortly. “I’ll have a glass of the Macallan seventy-five in the library.”
“Certainly.”
Gabriel waited another five minutes, then pushed back his chair and made his way out of the restaurant, going down the wide, wood-paneled hallway to the library.
It was late and there were no other guests there. His scotch was waiting for him like he’d ordered, in a tumbler beside the leather armchair he preferred.
He’d been there most of the last few hours, dealing with some shit about a site down in Florida that was causing him hassles. Then going over some files his research team had sent him about Tremain’s financial situation. That had proved interesting reading. The guy’s situation was dire, he knew that already, but what he hadn’t realized was that someone had already put a fair amount of money into Tremain Hotels. A company called St. James Investments. Honor’s company.
She’d already admitted to him that she’d invested in her stepfather’s business, but what she hadn’t let on was the level of her investment. Which was significant. If Tremain went down there was a good chance St. James would, too.
It was a bad investment, anyone could see that, which meant that Honor had done so out of the goodness of her heart. Risking everything, even her own company, out of … what? Duty? Love? What kind of hold did the guy have over her?
Gabriel shut the library door behind him and went over to where he’d left his laptop, flicking the screen up and entering his code to unlock it. The spreadsheet was on-screen, the damning figures all over it. He frowned as a feeling he wasn’t used to shifted inside him. The one he’d experienced today by the lake, as he’d told Honor about Alex and seen her face go white. Concern. For her.
Fuck, why? What did he care whether her company went down with Tremain’s or not? He wasn’t here to save her. He was here for information, nothing more.
He reached down and picked up the tumbler, took a sip of the scotch.
Jesus, he couldn’t afford to be worried for her or any shit like that. Only anger was allowed. That kept him going. That kept him strong.
“I’m sorry,” a feminine voice said from behind him. “I missed dinner.”
A heavy, hot sensation uncurled inside him, satisfaction and arousal settling in his gut. He paused to push the laptop closed and to put his tumbler back down on the side table. Only then did he turn around.
Honor had shut the door behind her, coming into the room. Disappointingly, she wasn’t wearing her motorcycle leathers now but had changed into a tailored, black, silky blouse and one of those pencil skirts she seemed to like so much, this one in dark blue. She wore a pair of delicate sapphire-colored pumps with a spindly heel that made her legs look long.
Beautiful. Sophisticated. And extremely self-possessed. As though the shock of this afternoon had never existed.
Clearly she’d come to make her move.
Anticipation tightened in him. “The steak was good,” he said. “Your loss. Did you get room service?”
“Yes. I had … extra work things to do that I wasn’t expecting.”
“No, you didn’t.” He smiled, letting her know he was as ready for whatever move she’d come here to make as she was. “You were punishing me.”
Honor raised a brow. “Was I? That might work if I thought you cared whether I joined you for dinner or not. But you don’t.”
“Are you kidding? It’s always painful when the gorgeous woman you thought would be joining you for dinner stands you up.”
Her expression remained neutral, as if the compliment made no difference to her whatsoever. “You don’t look like you’re in pain.”
“I hide it well.” He skirted around the side of the chair and sat down. “So, are you only here to apologize or do you have something else you wanted?”
She came over to the couch and placed her hands on the back of it. “I thought you were the one who wanted something.”
“I do. But like I told you, the next move is yours.”
“You’re not a man who concedes a move, Mr. Woolf.”
“Perhaps I felt bad.”
“I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Maybe not. But I like a woman who can see through bullshit.”
“And I prefer an honest man.”
Gabriel leaned back against the chair, studying her. “Do you? Or maybe what you really like is a man who challenges you.”
“I’m not sure you’re in any position to tell me what kind of men I like.”
“You’re excited by the thought of having someone to fight. It gives you a rush.”
She smiled, long dark lashes veiling her gaze. “I think you’re attributing too much to me, I’m afraid. I didn’t come here for a fight. I came here to ask you exactly what you need in order to give me your decision about Tremain Hotels.”
“A week. That’s what I said. I need to examine this place thoroughly and look over the various financials before I make any kind of decision.”
“No, you don’t. I think you’ve already decided. I think you made that decision even before you got here.”
Smart. Sexy. God … He shifted in his chair, watching her. The fire glossed over her inky hair, giving her face a wash of color, reflecting a glow deep in her dark blue eyes.
“So why am I here then?” he asked softly.
She took her hands off the back of the couch and walked around the side of it. “I can only assume you’re here for me, though why you should go to all this trouble, I can’t imagine.”
“You’re underselling yourself.”
She strolled closer to his chair. “Seems a lot of work to take yourself away from your busy company merely to look over this hotel. In fact, if you wanted to sleep with me, why didn’t you hold the investment offer over my head?”
“Ah, but that would be blackmail.”
“You don’t strike me as the kind of man who would balk at a little blackmail.” She reached down and picked up his tumbler full of scotch, took a sip. “Hmm. Macallan?”
“You know your scotch.”
“I have expensive tastes.”
He let his gaze drift down her body, all her slender curves on show in the beautifully tailored clothing she wore. “Yes, you most certainly do.”
“So, why didn’t you?”
“Why didn’t I what?”
“Blackmail me into bed?”
Gabriel looked up into her face. Color tinged her cheekbones. He could still feel that kiss of hers on his mouth, the touch of her fingers as he’d held her hands in his. “You’re assuming that sleeping with you is all I want to do.”
A spark of something that looked like surprise glowed briefly in her eyes. “What?”
“If sex was all I’d wanted then yeah, I could have blackmailed you. But I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because blackmail is like using a hammer to crack an egg. It’s clumsy. And while I may be a fucking beast at heart, I’m not a clumsy one.”
Her gaze made its way down his body as if she couldn’t help herself, the color in her cheeks deepening. “If you don’t want sex then what else do you want?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want sex. I said that’s not all I want.”
“Then what?”
He very much wanted to reach out and curl one hand around the back of her thigh, pull her in close to the arm of his chair then slide his palm up over the curve of her butt. But he wasn’t going to touch her again. Not like he had in the cottage the day before. No, this time she had to come to him. “Your permission. I want you to want it, sweetheart. I want you to want me. I want you to say ‘yes.’”
She gave a short laugh. Then tipping back her head, she drained his glass before setting it back down on the table beside him. “You’re going to invest.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re right. I do want you.” She took a breath, her eyes glittering in the light. “Tell me what you want from me, Gabriel.”
The sound of his name was like an arrow, piercing him straight through. It had never sounded so erotic. Holy fuck, it had been worth all the times she’d called him “Mr. Woolf” just to hear her say it.
His muscles tightened, fighting the urge to get up and grab her, tear the clothes from her, push her up against the wall, and have her sink her sharp, hungry claws into him. The beast, all that black passion, threatening to break free.
But it wouldn’t. It just fucking wouldn’t. Yes, he wanted her and he wanted her pretty damn badly. Yet he wasn’t about to break years of perfect self-control over his urges just because one small, blue-eyed, black-haired woman said his name.
“Are you sure you want to know?” he asked softly.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” She paused. “And I’m tired of you holding the reins.” She moved, stepping over his outstretched legs, putting her hands on the arms of his chair and leaning forward. Aggressive as hell and fucking sexy. “I want the control back. So how’s this for a deal? If you don’t invest in Tremain hotels then I won’t fuck you.”
* * *
She’d never done this before in her whole life, come on strong to a man who was a virtual stranger to her. It was like having an out-of-body experience. The scotch had gone straight to her head—mainly because she’d also had a glass of wine beforehand for liquid courage—but the thing that was really making her buzz was the adrenaline. A great, surging rush of it, making her say things she never thought she’d say, do things she never thought she’d do.
Gabriel sat in his chair, his big, long body utterly still. The light from the lamp on the table at his side threw the powerful lines of his face into shadow, his eyes so dark she could have sworn they were black. But she could see the heat in them. Feel it radiating from him.
He wasn’t in his leathers tonight, wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt instead, the fabric pulled tight over the incredible muscles of his chest. The simple clothing only emphasized how sexy he was, all muscle and power and heat. Like the motorcycle he rode.
With an icy heart. Don’t forget that.
Oh, no. She wouldn’t. He was a game player, cold and calculating. Using what he could to get what he wanted. But that was fine, she wasn’t after anything more.
What she wanted was control over this situation. Over the intense physical feelings that flooded through her whenever he was around. She was sick of him keeping her on the back foot all the time, surprising her, shocking her. It was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. Get back a little bit of the power. And like him, she would use whatever weapon she could.
Tonight her weapon of choice was sex.
It was a potentially dangerous move, but she was strong. As long as she was in control, she’d be able to handle him without losing herself.
“That,” Gabriel said softly, “is a very compelling argument.”
He didn’t smell of warmth and musky leather now. He smelled of winter, pine and fresh snow, the bite of ice at the back of the throat. “I take it you’ll be investing then?”
“With an offer like that, how could I refuse?”
“Didn’t think you would.” Her gaze moved over his body, a rolling kind of heat moving through her veins. He was so not the kind of man she’d ever thought she’d want. Rough and dominant and raw, without an ounce of smoothness or polish in him. So not her type. Yet she wanted him all the same. Because some part of her loved the danger of him. Loved that he had no slick, sophisticated veneer nor felt the need to have one. And appreciated, too, his brutal honesty.
“You asked what I wanted,” he said into the thick silence of the room.
She looked into his eyes. “Tell me.”
“I want you to lift your skirt. Get in my lap. Fuck me right here. Right now.”
The heat in her veins ignited. He didn’t move, didn’t try to touch her or reach for her. Only pinned her to the spot with those black eyes and his dark voice, the words harsh, blunt, and erotic.
Yes, he was dangerous. Because she wanted to do all those things he’d said. Prove herself to him in some way. Prove that she wasn’t afraid, that she would meet any challenge he set.
Be careful. Don’t let the rush go to your head.
“You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?” she murmured.
“Perhaps you won’t. This is a public area and the door isn’t locked.”
“Do those things bother you?”
“No. But they bother you, don’t they?”
Honor straightened up and still he didn’t move, only sat there, watching her. He was hard, she could see the rigid line of his erection through the denim of his jeans. He made no move to hide it and for some reason, she liked that very much indeed. He wanted her and that knowledge gave her power.
God, are you really going to do this?
Well, she hadn’t come in here to talk, had she? Besides, he didn’t think she would. Which meant she had to. Yes, it was probably another mind game he was playing with her, but she had her own she wanted to play. Let him think she would do what he told her to. Let him believe she was at his mercy. It would make it extra sweet when she turned around and showed him exactly who he was dealing with here.
She didn’t turn to check the door, moving toward him, sliding her skirt up to her thighs so she could straddle him. It was kind of awkward in a pencil skirt, the fabric stretching tight as she placed one knee down on the chair cushion on either side of him. There wasn’t a hell of a lot of room but she managed it, kneeling upright, looking down into his face. The heat of his body was intense, searing the insides of her knees where they touched his thighs. She almost didn’t want to sit down, half-afraid she might go up in flames on the spot. But fear wasn’t part of this equation so she ignored the feeling, slowly lowering herself so she was sitting in his lap.
He remained motionless as she sat, her hands gripping the back of the chair, and she could feel the vibrating tension in him, his muscles coiled and tight beneath her. The look in his eyes burned, the line of his jaw rigid.
“This,” she said, her voice not quite steady, “is how much they bother me.”
Another silence fell, so thick and charged she could hardly breathe.
He had his elbows on the arms of the chair, his fingers loosely linked together. His gaze dropped down her body to where her thighs were spread on either side of his. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Now that she was here, the physical reality of him beneath her, no, not really. But it was too late to pull back now, at least not without revealing herself. She’d chosen to do this and she was committed. As long as she remained in control of herself, she’d be okay.
“I’m sure.”
Gabriel unlinked his fingers, moving the tips of them to the hem of her skirt, touching lightly. “You’d better. Because if you think I’m going to suddenly turn into some kind of good guy at the last moment, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“I don’t.” Her voice sounded thick, not like hers at all.
Painfully slowly, he began to ease her skirt up her thighs. “I meant what I said about what I want, Honor.”
She swallowed, her throat dry, her heart hammering in her chest as he raised her skirt higher and higher. “You sound like you’re the one having second thoughts,” she said, trying to sound cool and knowing she didn’t.
“Just making sure you know that you don’t have to do this. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll stop at any time.”
Her skirt was now up around her hips, his attention on where her thighs were spread on either side of his. “I … I’m not going to say the word.”
“Black lace,” he murmured. “My favorite.” He ran the tip of one finger up her inner thigh and she shivered, heat washing through her, the heavy, insistent ache settling down between her thighs. He shifted his hands, palms resting hard and hot just above her knees, his thumbs brushing back and forth on the soft skin of her inner thighs.
She couldn’t seem to stop shaking, that nagging ache gathering tighter and tighter.
“You know what I think?” Gabriel said softly. “I think you’re playing head games with me, baby.”
Honor gripped the back of the chair, looking down at him. She felt the same as she had on the back of his bike. Terrified and yet exhilarated, with all that power and contained energy between her thighs. A machine capable of giving intense excitement and yet also the possibility of complete destruction. Except Gabriel wasn’t a machine, he was a man. Which somehow made him all the more dangerous.
Like you didn’t know that already.
She swallowed. “What head games?”
“Being a good girl and doing what I want.” His stroking thumbs inched higher, making the breath stutter in her throat. “Do you actually want this or are you doing it to push me? To prove something?”
“D-does it matter?”
“It’s not going to change what I do now. Once I decide I’m going to take an offer, I fucking take it.” His thumbs moved agonizingly higher, almost grazing the underside of her sex. Almost but not quite. “But when I told you I wanted you to want me, I meant that, too. So if you’re doing this purely to get me to invest in Tremain then…”
Honor sunk her nails into the fabric of the chair, fighting to breathe through the thick desire that gathered in her throat. She looked into his dark eyes. “Then what?”
His hands stilled, his expression completely unreadable. “Then I might have to stop.”
No, he was not going to take the control away from her like that. She was the one calling the shots here, not him. She reached down, took one of his hands and placed it between her thighs so his palm rested directly over her sex. “Does that feel like I’m only doing it to get you to invest in Tremain?”
Something moved in Gabriel’s eyes. Changed. A dark fire burning brighter, hotter. “Say ‘yes,’ Honor. I want to hear you fucking say it.”
The word came out before she could think about it. “Yes…”
His fingers flexed, pushing gently against her, sending an electric bolt of sensation directly to her clit, making her draw in a sharp, harsh breath.
“Wet. Hot.” His fingers flexed again, his palm pressing down, the heat of it making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. “That’s some proof, baby. But tell me, if your stepfather’s business wasn’t on the line, would you be sitting there, letting me stroke your pussy like this?”
No.
Yes.
Honor trembled, desperate for more than the gentle movement of his fingers, wanting to ease the terrible ache inside her. But God, she had to think, had to concentrate. Had she made a mistake here? She’d counted on her control being better than his but that light, tantalizing movement was driving her crazy.
She took a silent, shaking breath. “My stepfather’s business is on the line, so I guess you’ll never know the answer to that, will you? Now, are you going to do something or are you going to sit there and talk all night long?”
His mouth turned up in a wicked half-smile that made the breath she’d just drawn in vanish again. “Oh, I’m going to do something all right. Keep still. Hold onto the back of the chair. And let me do all the work.”
Gabriel didn’t wait, hooking the fabric of her panties to one side, baring her. Then he slid his fingers over her slick folds, stroking gently before easing a finger inside her in a deep, slow glide.
She gave a strangled moan, her eyes closing, a lightning strike of pleasure bursting through her.
“You like that?” His voice was rough and soft, velvet stroked the wrong way. “You’re all hot and wet and tight. This is for me, isn’t it, baby? All for me? Answer.”
She didn’t even think about not obeying. “Y-yes. It’s for you.” She rocked her hips, moving instinctively, gasping as he added another finger, a delicate stretch.
“You’ve been thinking of me doing this, haven’t you? My fingers in your pussy, making you moan. Making you come.”
“Yes.” The hard leather stitching on the chair back bit into her palm as she tightened her grip, his fingers moving, sliding out of her then in again. Slow. Deep. “God … yes…”
“Tell me what else you’ve been thinking about. All your dirty fantasies, I want to hear them.”
A voice inside her head whispered a warning, but it was so hard to think clearly, pleasure gathering tighter and tighter as his fingers moved. She couldn’t think of the last time she’d had an orgasm that hadn’t been entirely self-administered.
Have you ever had one that wasn’t?
But no, she didn’t like to think about that either. Or about the things men had said to her, the nice, intellectual, respectful types she went for who never pushed her or challenged her. Never made her sit in their laps and whispered dirty things into her ears.
“Tell me, baby. You can’t come until you tell me.”
“You,” she said in a voice that she barely recognized as hers. “Screwing me on your bike. I’m in … your lap … like … like this and you’re inside me.”
Hot darkness glinted in his eyes, the movements of his fingers slowing, maddening her. “That seems … tame. I think you can do better than that.”
She didn’t know where the words came from but they came out all the same. “You’re holding my hands behind my b-back. So I can’t struggle. I can’t … fight. I can … can only…”
“Feel,” he finished softly. “Yes, that’s what you want, isn’t it? To not be in control for once. To not have your head telling you what to do all the time. Only to feel.”
Like she was feeling now, the tightness of pleasure, the ache. The restlessness. The burn. Too much. Too much.
She tore her gaze away, closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see what was in his, the rhythm of his fingers changing, becoming faster, making everything get even tighter, more intense.
“I don’t…” she panted, “I don’t … want…”
An arm curled around her waist, holding her still, the warmth of his body pressing against her front. His fingers moving, faster, faster. His thumb circling over her clit, sending a streak of white light through her whole body.
She opened her mouth, a strangled sob coming out of it, her body gathering itself into a tight, hard knot.
Too much. Way too much.
Yet she couldn’t stop it.
Another pass of his thumb and a column of pleasure shot straight up her spine, spreading out through her body. The sob became a cry she couldn’t keep inside, more ecstasy ripping through her, the raw energy of it laying waste like a force of nature.
She could feel herself shattering, breaking apart, and the feeling was so terrifying she tried to rip herself free of him but he only held her tighter, like he was holding her together.
Biting down on the sobs, she kept her eyes fiercely shut, riding out the intense aftershocks.
Oh, God, how had that happened? Usually she had to fake it because she could never let herself go enough to come, at least not when she wasn’t giving herself pleasure. But not with Gabriel. He’d given her an orgasm so quickly, undermining her control so easily.
Intense. Powerful. Addicting …
Fear clawed its way inside her. To be so exposed, so vulnerable to a man like him would be a fatal mistake.
Honor waited until she felt his arm loosen around her, until her legs felt less like jelly and more like they could actually carry her. Then she moved, sliding off his lap, pushing down her skirt. Turning and walking toward the door.
“Honor?”
She didn’t pause. It wasn’t backing down or running away, no, it definitely wasn’t. She only needed space, some time to get her armor back in place.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
She pulled open the door and went through it.