Chapter 12

GABRIEL

I’m not a man who usually listens to women, but this one captivated me. Not her, but the dress. The way it clung to her upper body and then flowed, perfectly showcasing her leg. Every male gaze in the room sent me into a frenzy. I wanted to march onstage and claim her as my wife.

"I don't dance," I told her firmly, standing before her on the dance floor, studying her every move.

She pretended indifference to the Arthur incident, but I knew she’d overheard my conversation with him, and it affected her.

"I know," she replied, her hand circling my neck. Her smile was unconvincing. "But could you stand here a while?"

"Why?"

"Mrs. Johnson mentioned we didn't dance at our reception, so we should now. I tried refusing, but she insisted. I was going to find you after freshening up."

My eyes found the sixty-year-old woman watching us from a corner with her husband, a friend of my grandfather's. I placed my hands on her waist. "So, this is for appearances? Because the contract you signed?"

"Mm-hmm."

I pulled her closer, swaying with her. She was usually far more talkative.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Arthur was drunk."

"He was."

"If you'd been there, what would he have done?"

I stiffened. "I was there."

She looked at me hesitantly. "But you won't always be."

"I will," I promised. "You're my responsibility, Sofia."

"Freckles."

"What?"

She finally smiled. "You call me 'freckles.'"

I returned her smile, and she seemed reassured. I was ready to go home.

"You haven't eaten."

She shrugged, stepping away. My hands fell from her waist, and I almost wished she hadn't moved. She adjusted her dress as I stared, imagining how beautiful that fabric would look on my floor.

That thought—removing her dress, my hands on her skin—ignited a fire, and I felt my trousers tighten.

I forced my gaze away, almost succeeding in calming myself, when she looped her arm through mine, stealing my breath again.

Ignoring her unconscious effect on my self-control, I led her toward the exit when my name was announced over the speaker. I didn't know who announced it or why.

"I think they called you," Sofia murmured, turning to the screen, forcing me to look as well. There it was: my name in bold letters, under "Top 3 Biggest Contributors of the Night." Wasn't this supposed to be an anonymous charity?

"I thought you didn't like koalas," she teased.

"I don't," I rolled my eyes. "You do."

I pretended not to notice her smile as we left the gala in silence, but I stole several glances. Half a million dollars was worth lifting her spirits after that jerk ruined her evening.

SOFIA

I was stubborn about not bringing a coat; it was freezing outside. While we waited for the valet, I crossed my arms, goosebumps rising on my bare skin.

Gabriel glanced at me. "It's cold."

"I know." My teeth chattered.

"I told you to bring your coat."

"I know." I wanted to glare at him. I'd hoped he'd offer me his coat, but he didn't.

He was a gentleman sometimes, not others. He was an enigma.

The car arrived, and I didn't hesitate to rush to the passenger seat. I knew Gabriel found it amusing, shaking his head as he tipped the valet and got in.

First, he turned on the heater; then, the engine roared.

Two hours later, I was in my room, nearing midnight, unable to sleep. My stomach rumbled. I tossed and turned, too lazy to get up, but the hunger pangs became unbearable. I tiptoed to the kitchen in the dark, silent house. I was accustomed to the food here and had no idea what was where.

I didn't feel like cooking. Hoping to find chips and ice cream, I searched through several drawers. No luck.

I jumped when I heard a throat clear behind me. Gabriel stood with his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised. I gulped, looking at him—mostly at the way his black crew-neck tee clung to his muscles and his grey sweatpants…

I consciously looked away. "I-I'm just looking for chips, or something to eat."

This was the first time I'd seen him in anything but a shirt and trousers. I knew he was handsome, but the way the thin tee hugged his arms…it was something.

I also became acutely aware of my tiny shorts (I sleep with the heater on) and messy ponytail when his eyes fixed on me as he approached. And he kept coming closer.

He didn't stop until he was inches away, forcing me to look at him. My cheeks flushed; I wasn't wearing a bra, and my nipples were visible through my fitted tank top. It was dark, and I hoped he couldn't see them.

My breath hitched. He was so close I could hear his breathing. If I leaned up, I could kiss him.

"Chips," he said.

"Huh?" My lips parted. He'd opened the drawer above me, and I hadn't noticed because I was so captivated by him.

Cheeks flushed, I grabbed the unopened chips. "Thanks."

He didn't move. I tried to move to the right, but he put a hand there, trapping me.

"What?" My voice was a whisper.

He didn't answer.

"W-What?" I stuttered. He leaned down, his face inches from mine. I couldn't think straight, let alone speak, without imagining kissing him.

"Freckles…" His free hand circled my waist, sliding lower. I stopped breathing when it reached my bottom, but he didn't seem to be feeling me up. It slid further, to my bare thigh.

"Hm?" I gulped.

He lifted me, and suddenly I was on the kitchen counter. Gabriel slightly distanced himself.

"Would you share them with me?"

"What?"

"The chips." He smirked.

I blinked. "What?"

"Would you share the chips with me?" He smirked. The chips? I'd dropped them. Long forgotten.

My cheeks burned. He was smirking, smug. He was teasing me, enjoying his effect on me.

"Gabriel?" I called, but didn't give him a chance to reply. I grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer.

He looked at me, eyebrows raised. I didn't stop. I trailed my hand down his torso. Two could play this game.

It took courage to maintain eye contact as my fingers traced his abs through the thin fabric, sliding down to the waistband of his sweatpants.

He froze. My hand went lower, stopping just above his crotch.

"I can't reach them," I whispered.

"You can," he muttered.

"No, I can't. The chips are way down."

"Huh?" He breathed, stepping back, the daze in his eyes disappearing as he cursed under his breath, picking up the damn packet.

I took it innocently, opening it. "Hm? Chips? I share."

"I lost my appetite." He glared.

I shrugged. Just when I thought he'd leave, he didn't.

"F*ck it," he muttered, closing the distance in one step. Before I could react, his lips were on mine.

His lips were on mine. He kissed me, one hand pulling my ponytail to tilt my head back, the other at my back. I wrapped my legs around him, my hands finding his neck.

I'd often wondered what kissing him would be like, and this was far better. He tasted of mint and vodka—intoxicating and sweet. He devoured my lips hungrily, as if it were his only chance.

Using my legs, he lifted me onto the wider counter. I didn't want to pull away, even though I couldn't breathe, but he did. I gasped for air as he nuzzled his hair into my neck, leaving soft kisses.

"Next time you touch me like that, you better be prepared to finish what you started, because I'll f*ck you like there's no tomorrow," he whispered in my ear before placing a wet kiss on my earlobe and leaving me breathless in the kitchen—a mess of fallen chips and a whirlwind of emotions. My dripping underwear was a whole other story.