7
GABE RUSHED FORWARD in a take down attempt, grabbing Nick’s left thigh as he tried to knock his friend off balance. Nick bounced on his right foot for a couple of seconds, holding his ground, before he managed to dig in and bend forward, grabbing Gabe’s arm in an overhook. Nick pushed forward and transferred his grip to an underhook that threw Gabe off, giving Nick enough leverage to take him down to the mat.
Gabe sprawled on his back for a split second before scrambling and wrapping his arms around Nick’s thighs. He caught Nick by surprise and tossed him onto his back. He was just about to move into a mount when his trainer, Buck, called a stop to the session.
“Way to pull through in the end,” he said in his west Texas accent. “Oliveira works his knees, so you only get one shot with him. I’ve got guys lined up for the next month to practice those knee defenses.”
Gabe nodded as he sucked in air, trying to steady his breath after the long training session. Buck rattled off a list of critiques before he walked off to meet the next fighter who had booked time with him.
“Thanks for filling in,” Gabe said, looking over at Nick, who was lying on the mat, trying to catch his breath. Gabe’s regular sparring partner wasn’t back from Christmas break yet, so Nick had agreed to train with him.
“No problem, man. I needed to work on my take down defense anyway,” Nick said, getting up to grab his water bottle and then tossing one to Gabe.
He caught it and took a long drink before grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling it off over his head. It was drenched with sweat. He’d been at the gym since early that morning, as usual. He made sure to get his cardio training in every day so that when he finally met a guy he couldn’t either knock out or submit by the second round, he’d be able to go the distance in the octagon without getting gassed. He poured some water over his head and raked a hand through his hair.
“Did you go see your mom over Christmas?” Nick asked, using his own drenched T-shirt to wipe away sweat from his brow.
“Nah. Got together with some of the guys who stayed in town and went to a buffet.”
“A buffet? You only eat that prepackaged shit.” Nick grinned.
Gabe was one of the few fighters who didn’t have to cut weight before a fight. Light heavyweights fought at 205 pounds, and he rarely tipped the scales over 210 because he exercised every day and had a service deliver calorie-controlled meals. He shrugged, used to taking shit for his disciplined lifestyle. “It was Christmas. I splurged.” He’d also hit the gym for an extra hour the following two days. Nothing came without a price.
“What happened with your mom? Don’t you go to San Diego every year?”
“I didn’t feel like it this year.”
Nick frowned, his brow furrowed. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” Gabe didn’t want to get into it, but he knew from firsthand experience that Nick could be persistent. “You remember she got married a couple of years ago?”
Nick nodded. “I thought you liked the guy.”
“Brian’s a good guy. He makes her happy, and that’s all I care about. But he has four grown kids and two of them have kids of their own and sometimes it gets crowded.” It didn’t help that one of Brian’s grandkids was eight. The same age Mason would’ve been. He couldn’t pretend to be a part of that big, happy family.
Nick took another gulp of water and, mercifully, dropped the subject. They’d been friends for years now, and he’d learned when he could push, and when to let things go. “I asked Jules to marry me.”
Looking at the smile on his friend’s face, Gabe couldn’t help but feel happy for them, even though that hollow in his chest started to ache. He absently rubbed a hand over it. “She say yes?” he teased.
“She did.” Nick’s grin got wider.
“Congrats, man. You two deserve to be happy.” The expression on Nick’s face was that of a man who’d just been handed everything he’d ever wanted. Gabe knew that feeling. He’d been that man once. The ache pulsed in his chest. He turned to make his way to the locker room, and Nick fell into step beside him. The gym was only half as busy as usual because a lot of the guys were still out of town for the holidays.
“Megan’s throwing us an engagement party next week at Alizé in the Palms. We’d like you to come.”
Gabe nodded, but his mind flashed back to that kiss. His heart rate, which had been slowing after the workout, picked back up at the thought of seeing her again. “Megan . . .” Gabe found himself speaking before he even knew what he wanted to say.
Nick looked over at him with a frown. “Yeah?”
“I noticed she came to the after party alone. She’s not seeing anyone?”
Nick got quiet and Gabe could feel the tension radiating off of him. Fuck. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. Nick knew he didn’t date. He knew Gabe’s only interest in her was physical. And she was his fiancée’s best friend.
“No, she’s not seeing anyone,” Nick said. “You interested?”
Gabe had thought about her every day since the interview, and that damn kiss had only made it worse. He jerked off every night now before he went to sleep, just like when he’d been fifteen. Only instead of the Playboy magazine he used to keep tucked under his mattress, his overly active imagination now provided all the material he needed. He’d close his eyes and see Megan, blindfolded with her hands bound behind her as she sucked his cock. He’d imagine her wrists and ankles tied to his bed as he thrust inside her for the first time, her eyes as wide with arousal as they’d been after that kiss. She’d make those sexy sounds as he fucked her, and she’d move beneath him, wanting more but completely at his mercy.
Yeah, he was interested.
“Nah, just wondering why someone like her would be single.” She was beautiful and smart, warm and sweet. It didn’t make sense, but maybe she’d just gotten out of a relationship or something.
“She’s looking for something serious, something stable.” Nick said the words with such intent that Gabe knew he was warning him away from her.
“Point taken,” he murmured, shaking his head. Gabe tried to get her out of his thoughts, but it was too late for that.
She’d left him a voice mail asking to set up a second interview. One night after listening to it—again—he’d jerked off and had still been hard and unable to stop thinking about her. He’d come very close to calling her back and asking her to meet him in a hotel room.
Maybe he needed to go through his phone and call one of the women he had an arrangement with, someone who’d be up for the hard, rough sex he needed right now. But something about that didn’t sit right with him. He’d be thinking about Megan the entire time, and the other woman wouldn’t be who he wanted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly, and especially one so completely wrong for him.
He tried to push her from his mind as he and Nick stepped into the locker room. Gray lockers lined the two walls to the right in an L shape. A wide-screen television in the corner was set to SportsCenter. Gabe breathed in the familiar scents of disinfectant, cologne, and sweat. He spent so much time here that this place felt more like home than his apartment. Steam billowed out of the doorway that led to the showers, sauna, and jetted tubs in the back, as a guy walked out with a towel tied around his waist.
“Hey, Ito,” Gabe said, sitting down on the stool in front of his locker to unstrap his shin guards.
“Maddox. Giannakis,” Ito said as he walked to his own locker to get dressed.
Nick asked Ito about his vacation, but Gabe wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy staring at his phone, which was resting on a shelf in his locker. He’d started checking it a little more often after the Christmas text from Megan. It had been a simple Merry Christmas, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had meant something more. She was leaving things open between them. Letting him know that she was interested. He hadn’t responded because he didn’t want to lead her on any more than that kiss already had. He shouldn’t have done it, but he didn’t regret it. That kiss had been fucking perfect. Her curvy body had felt so good against his, and she’d tasted like sunshine. As much as he knew he shouldn’t, he wanted to hear from her again. Liked the idea that she was thinking about him. Liked to hear her voice.
“Gabe.” Dressed now, Ito sat down on the stool next to him and moved in close, his voice pitched low. “What do you think about the Mereo deal?”
Gabe shook his head. “Nick told me about your payout. Sorry, man, that’s harsh.”
Ito’s jaw clenched, his dark eyes glittering with anger. “I made fifty grand less than last year. I’m back to what I was making before I signed on with Darcy, despite taking more fights.”
“Same here.” A couple of other guys had walked into the locker room while Gabe had been zoned out thinking of Megan. They were both unranked fighters who’d been signed last year. They walked up next to Ito.
“I’m thinking about moving back to the East Coast,” one said.
“Imperial’s been calling. I made more with them,” added the other.
As Gabe listened to their complaints, he could feel himself getting angry on their behalf. The Mereo sportswear deal didn’t bother him because as champion, he’d had no problems getting more lucrative deals. He got his meals for free because he endorsed the service he used, and he’d done some print ads for a line of sports watches.
“I’ve been with this league for two years, and I’m worse off now than when I started,” Ito said, his fists clenched. “Fucking Darcy.”
By this time several other guys had made their way into the locker room and somehow Gabe found himself the center of the group. “Easy.” Gabe put his hand on Ito’s shoulder. When he looked at the group they all looked back at him as if he should do something. “Have any of you mentioned this to Darcy?”
“Oliveira told him to fuck off,” one of them said, and the others laughed.
Oliveira and his big fucking mouth.
“Some guys have been talking about organizing, starting a fighters’ union or something,” Ito said.
“That’s extreme. The first step should be talking to Darcy, see if he can make it right,” Gabe said. He respected Darcy. It wasn’t fair to spring something like that on him without trying to resolve the problem first.
Ito nodded. “We want you to talk to him.”
“Me?” Gabe just wanted to fight. The last thing he wanted to do was get in the middle of this.
“He trusts you. Respects you. He’ll listen to you when you tell him it’s unfair.” This was from Nick, who was leaning against his locker with his arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re marrying his daughter,” Gabe pointed out.
Nick grinned. “Glad you see my dilemma. I’m on thin ice with him.”
For fuck’s sake. Gabe sighed and they all started talking at once, trying to convince him that he was the obvious choice. “Settle down.” He raised his voice enough to be heard over the guys. “I’m not making any promises, but I’ll talk to him and let him know your concerns.”
If he was honest, he hated being in the middle of the issue, but he hated the injustice of it even more. And, hell, maybe dealing with this would distract him from thinking about Megan.
As her name floated through his brain, his dick twitched against his jock.
Fuck.
“You know, I think if your career as a journalist doesn’t work out, you’ve got a bright future ahead of you as a party planner,” said Jules with a smile, sipping her champagne.
Megan returned the smile and brushed away the compliment. “Please. The staff did pretty much everything. All I did was make a few phone calls. But I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
Jules’ smile widened and Megan followed her gaze across the elegant restaurant to where Nick stood by the bar, chatting animatedly with someone. His long hair fell around his shoulders, and Megan couldn’t deny that he looked handsome in his navy-blue suit. She’d never considered herself a fan of long hair on men until recently. Very recently, in fact. Her mind conjured up an image of Gabe—one of the many she’d spent way too long staring at on her computer screen—shirtless and sweaty, his hair in a messy topknot, golden strands falling down around his chiseled face.
Yep. Definitely a fan of the long hair thing now.
He’d never returned her call. Never texted her back. He’d gone radio silent since that kiss over three weeks ago, and she wasn’t sure if that frustrated her, or only made her more intrigued.
Megan scanned the restaurant, slowing at the massive wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Strip. Lights twinkled and flashed, brightening the night into something festive and glamorous. An entire city devoted to fun and sex and vice. An oasis in the middle of the desert. It was a metaphor for life, for how people treated the bright, fun spots. Not as home, not as reality, but a respite. An escape. After everything she’d been through, she’d made up her mind that she wasn’t going to live her life that way, shoving fun into the corners. She’d moved to Vegas to be closer to her parents, but also because she liked how the city felt, how it served as a reminder that the everyday could be fun and exciting and full of possibility. Sometimes she missed the changing seasons of Connecticut, where she’d grown up, but Vegas felt like home.
Jules turned to her, the light catching her fitted, shimmery lilac dress. “Thank you so much for all of this. I’m lucky to have you,” she said, giving Megan’s arm a squeeze.
“You’re welcome. Really, it was no trouble. The manager owed me a favor after an article I did on the restaurant.” Besides, planning it had been a nice distraction from Gabe’s silence.
Jules tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the antique diamond on her finger glinting. Megan shoved down the small wave of jealousy trying to rise up and crest over her. Someone called to Jules, and she waved, giving Megan’s arm another squeeze before weaving her way through the crowd to greet her guest.
The guests were a mix of people—Nick’s friends, Jules’ friends, people from the WFC, and family, including Nick’s brother, Alex, whom Jules had casually mentioned was single about seventeen times. Megan scanned the restaurant again, trying to pretend that she wasn’t looking for Gabe, who’d yet to make an appearance even though the party had started over an hour ago.
From across the room, she found Alex, whose gaze was on her, and she had to admit that he was pretty sexy. There was a resemblance between he and Nick—they had the same strong jaw, wide smile, and brown eyes. But his hair was lighter and shorter, and he had a different body type. He was taller than Nick, and bigger, bulkier. He had the look of someone who trained in the gym for aesthetic purposes, not athletic ones.
He shot her a smile and then pointed at his drink before tipping his head toward the bar. She returned the smile and shook her head, holding up her flute of champagne. As attractive as he was, it’d be a mistake to go over there. If she flirted with him, she knew she’d only be doing it to take her mind off of Gabe. And given that Alex was her best friend’s future brother-in-law, that was probably a sandbox she didn’t want to play in.
He frowned, a cute, teasing pout, and she was wondering if she should just go over there—no flirting—and stop communicating like a mime when she heard a male voice behind her.
“Read your article.”
She turned around to find Craig Darcy standing a few feet away, sipping a glass of scotch. He wore a light gray suit that looked custom-tailored to his athletic frame. With the dark purple tie and matching pocket square, he looked much more businessman than former brawler—even with his crooked nose and mangled ears. He took another sip of his scotch and she steeled herself at the frost in his blue eyes.
“Hi, Mr. Darcy. What did you think?” she asked, taking a fortifying sip of her champagne.
“Some of it was good. Some of it, not so much.”
“And I assume you want to talk to me about the not so much part?”
He didn’t even wait a beat before starting in. “I’ll have you know that I pay every fighter in this league fairly, just like I told you during our interview.”
She tipped her head. “I didn’t say you don’t. But you did tell me that some guys could make a million dollars a fight and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
He let out a frustrated sigh and rocked on his heels. “You’re twisting my words.”
“I’m not twisting anything. I’m presenting both sides.” She shrugged. It wasn’t the first time someone had been unhappy with the way they came off in a story. She wasn’t doing this to make friends or impress Craig Darcy. She was doing it to explore the fascinating world of the WFC and hopefully attract new fans to the sport. But she wasn’t going to pretend everything was sunshine and rainbows when it wasn’t, and she hadn’t in her first article.
She’d written about Gabe, and Nick, profiling them briefly, while contrasting their everyday experience with those at the bottom, showing the different aspects of what it was like to be a fighter in the WFC. She hadn’t shied away from presenting both sides of the Mereo deal, and asking questions about where all the advertising revenue went, when some fighters were struggling to make ends meet.
“I thought these articles were supposed to be unbiased.” Craig swirled his scotch, the single ice cube clinking against the glass.
“They are.”
“You’re clearly taking the fighters’ side.” A hint of anger had crept into his tone.
She smiled, knowing she needed to placate him. Writing future articles would be much more difficult if she didn’t have Craig Darcy’s cooperation. “I promise you, I’m not taking anyone’s side.”
He let out a frustrated grunt and downed the rest of his drink. “What happens with the advertising revenue is my decision to make. This is my league, and I decide how it’s run, and how the fighters are paid. You shouldn’t stick your nose into things you don’t understand.”
Anger flickered in her chest. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But I stand by what I wrote.” It was the only reasonable thing she could say that wouldn’t exacerbate his frustration. But the fact that he was so defensive told her that she was on to something.
Megan felt a hand wrap around her arm, and she whipped her head around. Gabe stared down at her, an unreadable expression on his face. “Hey, boss,” he said to Darcy. “Mind if I steal her?”
Craig shook his head. “She’s all yours.”
“We’re in the middle of a conversation,” she said as Gabe started to lead her away. Frustration and anger clawed together in her chest.
“We’re done. Thanks, Maddox.” Craig tipped his chin at Gabe, and Megan fought the urge to scream.
She jerked her arm out of Gabe’s grip and spun to face him, refusing to let him lead her through the restaurant like some kind of misbehaving child. Heat prickled her cheeks. “What the hell, Gabe?”
He huffed out a breath and tucked his hands into his pockets, and she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked. His hair was pulled back in its usual low ponytail, a few strands hanging loose around his face. A week’s worth of stubble clung to his jaw, framing his full lips. He wore a simple white dress shirt, open at the collar and rolled up to expose his corded forearms. Blue dress pants hugged his muscular ass.
“You don’t want to get on Darcy’s bad side,” he said, his deep voice rumbling over her skin. “Trust me, I was helping you.”
“I wasn’t getting on his bad side.”
“You didn’t see that muscle in his jaw starting to pop? You were pissing him off.”
“Thanks for the tip, but I don’t need your help.” She inhaled and, to her horror, felt tears pricking her eyes. She’d always been an angry crier, and for some reason suddenly seeing Gabe after weeks of silence was making her unreasonably angry. “I don’t need anything from you.” She said it as much for her own benefit as his.
Gabe stared at her, his blue eyes rooting her to the spot, something hot and dangerous flickering in them.
“Hey, Gabe.” Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “How’s it going? Haven’t seen you in a while.”
The intensity vanished from Gabe’s face. “Hey, Alex. Yeah, I’m good.”
“What’s new with you?” Even though his question was directed at Gabe, Alex’s warm, brown gaze was glued to Megan. And yet his gaze didn’t pin her down the way Gabe’s did. It didn’t make her feel as though the entire world had disappeared, leaving only the two of them. Alex was the man she should want, but she wanted Gabe, even though he was all wrong for her.
After chatting with Gabe for a minute, Alex flashed her a smile. “Come find me if you want to grab a drink, yeah?”
She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, and Alex moved away, making his way back toward where Nick and Jules stood at the bar.
“He likes you.” Gabe’s voice rumbled in her ear, his breath washing over her skin.
She spun to face him and couldn’t stop her questions from tumbling out. “And what about you, Gabe? Do you like me?” Her heart beat its hummingbird wings as she waited for an answer she knew she was foolish to hope for.
He cocked an eyebrow and didn’t answer. “Stay away from Darcy.” He turned to go, and this time she grabbed him, her fingers curling into the hard muscle of his arm beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. He could’ve pulled away, but he didn’t.
“Are we going to pretend that kiss didn’t happen?”
“Yeah. We are.” He gently pulled free from her grip and started walking away, but she followed him.
“Why?”
He didn’t answer, just kept moving through the restaurant.
“Why didn’t you call me back?” she asked.
He stopped and turned, and she almost crashed right into him. “Because us—this,” he said, gesturing between them, “can’t happen.”
“Why?”
His jaw clenched and he started moving again.
She followed, working to keep up with his long strides in her heels. “Would you just talk to me?”
“Nothing to say,” he said over his shoulder, making his way toward the back of the restaurant. He turned a corner, leading them into a much quieter, empty hallway that led to the kitchen and the bathrooms.
“Why did you kiss me?” She took a step toward him. “If we can’t happen—for whatever reason—why did you kiss me?”
He turned, his expression hungry and fierce. “We can’t happen because I can’t give you what you want, and you won’t like what I can give you.” His chest heaved, as though he were struggling for control.
“You don’t know anything about what I want. Clearly.” She took another step toward him. “Because I’ve been wanting you for weeks now, Gabe, and you’re pretending there’s nothing between us.”
“Ah, fuck,” he growled out. Something flashed in his eyes, something hot and possessive and challenging. He moved into her space, backing her up against the wall and caging her in with his body. His hands came up, cradling her face with a firm grip as he tipped her head back and closed his mouth over hers in a deep, bruising kiss.
She gasped and then melted into him, her bones liquefying at the sensation of his tongue stroking hungrily against hers. She moved to slip her arms around his shoulders, but before she could, he took his hands from her face and pinned her arms roughly against the wall, his fingers circling her wrists. She flexed her hands and he tightened his grip, restraining her. She knew he would’ve let her go had she pulled her hands away, but . . . she didn’t want to. Something washed over her as she submitted to his touch, a calming thrill that made her feel both awake and free.
For once, she wasn’t worrying about if the man she was with liked what she was doing, or if he was finding her lacking in some way. She didn’t feel the usual insecurity or doubt that came with getting physical with someone—all she felt was good. As though giving him that control over her body switched off her brain, making it the simplest thing in the world to just feel and enjoy and be.
He broke the kiss, scraping his teeth over her bottom lip as he pulled away, the sting of pain only intensifying the pleasure thrumming through her. Their eyes met, and his were dark, hooded with desire. He held her gaze, and something passed between them. A challenge. An understanding. Lust and want.
“You take your hands off that wall, I stop. Understand?” His voice was low, husky, and sent a ripple of need through her. She pressed harder into the wall and nodded, thrilled at obeying him. At letting him take control. Of giving up her power, because she didn’t want to think or worry. She just wanted to feel.
“Good girl,” he growled, taking his hands from her wrists and sliding one into her hair, the other tracing over her collarbone. With a hard grip, he tilted her head to the side and trailed rough, biting kisses up the side of her neck, his stubble rasping against her overly sensitive skin. Her hips jerked toward him as pleasure churned through her, her entire body throbbing for him. She felt the twinge of pain that always came with arousal, but then soared past it as he sucked at the skin just below her ear. The fact that she wasn’t allowed to touch him only turned her on even more.
He was being rough with her, taking what he wanted, using her for his own pleasure, and maybe it was twisted, but something about that made her feel sexier than she ever had in her life. Her clit throbbed and her muscles clenched at how much she liked all of that, wanting more of it, wanting to explore it.
His other hand came up over her breast, palming it. Her nipple beaded to the point of aching, and she arched into his touch, wanting more.
So much more.
He pulled down the thin strap of her dress and slipped his hand inside, beneath her strapless bra. She moaned at the sensation of his calloused palm on her bare breast. He sank his teeth into the juncture where her neck met her shoulder and pinched her nipple, harder than she would’ve thought she liked, but as searing pleasure arrowed through her, she let it take over, not thinking, not questioning anything.
“Such gorgeous tits,” he whispered against her skin, kneading her aching breast, and she felt as though fire were slowly spreading through her body. “They’d look so good streaked with my come.”
Her entire body jolted at his words, but she kept her hands on the wall, not wanting this to be over. “Holy shit,” she breathed, feeling as though she were about to come out of her skin, arousal taking over, not as a feeling, but a state of being.
He pulled his head back and their eyes met. Oh God. She wanted to be whatever Gabe wanted. Whatever he needed, as long as he kept looking at her like that. Like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life, wonder and awe and desire all mixed together in his eyes.
His mouth crashed back down on hers, his kiss hard and deep as though he was trying to claim her. But he didn’t need to try, because he already had.
With startling clarity, she knew that this man could be her everything.
He moaned against her mouth and dropped his hands to her hips, slipping his muscled thigh between her legs, her tight dress riding up. He went still as his thigh made contact with her pussy, aching and ready for whatever he wanted to give her.
“Fuck, I can feel how wet you are.” With a firm grip on her hips, he guided her up and down his thigh, the friction driving her insane because it felt so good, yet it wasn’t enough.
She moaned again as he worked her against his thigh, pulling her higher so she could feel the ridge of his cock against her, thick and hard and huge. Her stomach fluttered as her muscles clenched. What would he feel like inside her?
“You like this,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Like didn’t even touch how she felt about this. It was the single most arousing experience of her life. Period. “Yes.” The lone syllable was all she could manage.
Leaving his thigh between her legs, he slid his hands down her thighs and to the edge of her skirt, playing at the hem. “If we were alone, I would rip this off of you,” he said, slipping his hands up under her skirt. His palms were warm and rough against her skin, his fingertips tracing the edge of her panties. With excruciatingly gentle contact, he slid one finger up and down her slit, playing with her over her soaked panties, sending pleasure curling over her skin. She squirmed and whimpered as he stroked her with a slow, sure touch.
“So fucking wet,” he said, his voice heavy with approval, and she sighed. “So beautiful, Megan, fuck.”
The sound of laughter erupted from around the corner, and he jerked away from her, tugging her dress back into place, shielding her with his body. Reluctantly, she dropped her hands from the wall, wanting to scream with frustration, wanting to take her disappointment out on whoever had interrupted them.
Nick came around the corner, pulling up short when he saw them. He swayed a bit on his feet, a frown on his face.
“Megan, is this guy bothering you?” he asked, his words slightly slurred.
“No, no, everything’s fine,” she said, her voice coming out higher than she’d intended. Blood rushed to her face as the reality of what had just happened with Gabe crashed into her, as though her brain had just switched back on and was scrambling to catch up.
Nick just stared at them for a second and then started toward the men’s room. He pointed at Gabe. “Watching you, Maddox.” He gestured between his eyes and Gabe before stumbling into the bathroom.
“I . . . I have to go,” she stammered out, adjusting her dress, not looking at Gabe. She needed some air, some time, some space away from him to think. To try to make sense of how she’d responded to him.
He didn’t say anything and let her slip past him. She kept moving, the party a blur around her, until she pushed out onto the terrace, gulping down lungfuls of cold night air.
She would’ve let him have sex with her, right in the middle of that hallway, which was completely out of character for her, and the realization left her feeling unsettled. But she’d wanted him, had liked the way he’d wanted to use her, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that now that his hands weren’t on her anymore. She’d lost herself in it, and the ease and speed with which that had happened scared her. So much about Gabe scared her. The intensity of her attraction to him. The way she couldn’t shake him from her mind, as much as she tried. How he’d dominated her, been rough with her in a way she shouldn’t have liked, and yet she’d practically been begging for more.
Taking another deep breath, she wrapped her arms around herself. Maybe he’d been right to try to warn her off.
Maybe she needed to stay away from Gabriel Maddox.