Hidden Gabriel

by Pinder, Victoria

  His eyebrows rose. “Try?”

  “Maybe you’re not ready to rip the dress off me.”

  He reached for her leg, traced her thigh, and brushed against her center. A shiver escaped her body. Suddenly, his other hand reached for the top of the dress.

  He held her so close she thought he’d kiss her. But he instead whispered, “You asked for this.”

  He yanked the top of the dress hard, almost causing her to fall. The rip reverberated in the air. Her chest bounced free from the dress’s cage. She took a deep breath. His hand on her hip and his massive chest didn’t let her stumble. She sighed her approval.

  His grin and the chill on the hardening pebbles on her breasts made her smirk up at him. Gabriel was everything she hoped for in a man, and she teased, “If you do this to all the clothes in the closet, I won’t have anything left to wear.”

  “That’s a good idea, Snowflake. I’m all for watching you strut around naked.” This time he held her close for a kiss, and she squirmed and tumbled to get him on his back.

  “How do you know I don’t cook in the nude already?”

  He laughed and didn’t budge. “Believe me, I’d find out, fast.”

  He traced his hands down her back and squeezed her ass. She moaned and he picked her up. Her legs curled in his embrace, and he carried her back to her room.

  Another giggle escaped her lips, but she let him kiss her shoulder. In his embrace, she slyly maneuvered her bra lower. He kissed the top of her breasts, then told her, “And seeing these not fit in the cups is sexy.”

  “The wrong bra size can cause headaches.” Seriously, what was wrong with her sometimes? She swallowed, then finished, “Though tonight, I hoped you’d like the strapless push-up.”

  “Wash yours. We have a laundry room, which you seem to avoid for some reason.” He reached around her and unhooked her bra. Her chest free meant she could breathe. His coarse hands on her back left a trail of electricity in their wake. “Let’s take it off, Snowflake. Can’t have you getting ill.”

  His lips brushed her exposed skin, and he set her body on fire.

  “Hold still.” He stepped back and untied his work boots.

  A chill raced down her spine and went to war with her heart. The man couldn’t be what his dead wife claimed in her diary. He couldn’t. He was unlike any man she’d ever known. Her body ached for his touch. He kicked his shoes off; then his hands traced up her leg as he stood.

  Now he took a hardened areola in his mouth to suck, and her entire body flushed. Thoughts jumbled and she became inarticulate.

  With the wall behind her, she wrapped her legs around his body and pulled him closer.

  “You’re flexible. I like it.” His hands on her thigh edged up her body. She needed him, and closed her legs around his torso. “I like everything about you.”

  “Me too. I like being with you.” She swallowed. “I’m happy.”

  He stared at her for a moment. She thought she’d gone too far, but then he nodded. “Me too.”

  He carried her to her bed, and his hard hands against her soft skin made her body ache. At the edge of the bed, he set her down, and she sighed into his neck. She was half dressed, and her hands went to his chest to take off his shirt.

  He helped her. The moment she pushed past his shoulders, his shirt came off easily. Then she threw it clear across the room.

  Her fingers led her back to his belt, and she tugged. Wow. She ached to taste him. He ran his hands on her naked skin and kissed her cheek. “Patience, Snowflake.”

  Someday she’d learn that lesson. But instead she took his hand and ran it down her legs. He growled with desire, but she refused to let him go. She kept her legs locked around his waist, and he squirmed. Then he leaned lower to kick off his shoes.

  She kissed his ear and whispered, “Hurry, angel.”

  A sigh escaped her. Gabriel stared at her like he’d won a prize, and, somehow, she was his. His smoldering eyes set her skin to well past burning for him. Then he turned his head to kiss her hard. Playfully, she kept her neck away from his lips. He kissed her skin so gently that she ached. Then she smiled and stared up at his succulent, sexy brown eyes. She sucked on her lower lip and dared, “Pants first, angel.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Move your thigh, so I can unzip the rest of that dress.”

  Damn. Caught. With him naked, she could endure anything. She kissed his shoulder and shook her head.

  He let out a groan. Good. She massaged his back to distract him. But he twisted and figured out how to pick up her leg to wiggle out of his pants.

  At last he stood almost bare. At that instant, his hands went to her hips. He tugged, and she lost the last shreds of her dress. His hands massaged her back, but she twirled out of his arms. Freedom was good.

  Now she sat on his lap, and his engorged manhood rose up to greet her.

  She leaned in to kiss him, and she let go of all crazy fear. She needed him. Her muscles relaxed. The man’s kiss was hard, exciting, and delectable. The frenzy inside her body demanded to have him inside her moistness.

  Without patience, she positioned herself better and pushed his cock into her. Shyness was for another day. Today, she kept right on kissing him.

  “Damn,” he managed to say. No more words. She pushed him backward on the bed.

  In full control, she needed to ride him. The heady throes of taking control made her body tremble.

  She bucked backward. In a burst, she shattered all her control and lost herself in that moment.

  16

  Erica slept through the night and woke up the next morning. She stretched her arms and suppressed a giggle. Her body hummed from activity. Multiple times. Yum. She’d wrangled a promise from him last night. She had made him swear that tonight he’d dress for dinner in a suit. Her eyes rolled backward from the memory of their lovemaking. A sigh escaped her lips. She’d demanded he take her hard. She had left him no choice but to do what she wanted.

  Tonight, they’d switch roles. He swore he would.

  Her heart raced now. Today would be a good day. She stood and walked to the closet.

  She ran her hands through her hair, and her entire body stayed well sated.

  Finally, she went through her morning routines to clean herself up.

  Gabriel had wanted her to see his work. All day with the incomparable man would end all her nightmares.

  She anchored her hand on her hip and nodded to herself. She could do more than just cook. She could figure out how to use a hammer.

  Outside her window the wind rushed past and it sounded bitterly cold. The windowpanes were frosted through, and for a second she wondered if ice could crack glass.

  She sighed and stared at the door. Outside would be the library and that constant fire. She’d beat her fears of ghosts and whispering winds. Useful was what she preferred to be. He intended to clean up the front area this winter. As she straightened her hair into a bun, she concluded she could straighten things out with him too.

  With a scarf around her neck and gloves in her pockets, she shuffled out of her room. The dark hallways echoed. She swallowed. Shadows and echoes were common, and this part of the house was fine. She had sat in the hall the other night and nothing happened.

  At the kitchen, she placed her gloves and scarf on the table. She ticked her tongue to the bottom of her mouth and decided: a good, hearty chicken soup was fast and easy to prepare.

  She shed her jacket and sweater, then went to work. She chopped the celery, which would go bad if not used, and set the pot on the stove. She finished preparing dinner for tonight and set the oven.

  First mission accomplished. The soup would take hours to warm.

  Now she bundled back on her sweater, jacket, gloves, and scarf, and went into the main lobby.

  A blast of cold hit her face harder than a concrete wall. She rubbed her arms, which grew goose bumps despite all the layers. Then she swallowed and took another step. Halfway to the service door, she stopped. Was there a s
hadow again? Then she clicked her tongue and glanced around the lobby. No. This place was a mess. Spiders would be at home here. She turned around and decided to clean up behind the counter.

  She gazed around the front desk, where hotel guests would check in. The ancient computer would likely be trashed. Then she sniffed the dust in the air. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. If she cleaned, she’d be less afraid.

  She turned and marched back into the living areas. She found a plastic bag, then returned. Her breathing grew easier, and her heart beat at a regular pace. Work was great. She threw a few loose wires inside. Then she opened a cabinet and picked out a stack of papers and a ledger. She threw them in the trash. Dust gathered in her eyes and she coughed.

  Despite the work, she was in a good mood. She picked up a second stack to trash, but she stopped. The word guests caught her gaze. Gabriel? Who had stayed in his lodge, and was anyone related to Tiffany? Curious, she tossed the rest but held onto the guest log.

  The drawer was empty of papers and everything. Erica sighed, then stared at the guest book. She scratched her chin and opened up to see what the last date of entry was. Suddenly, a yellowed news clipping fell out.

  A picture of Gabriel picture caught her eye. His expression was deep in the photo. His eyes held the echo of sadness. Her skin prickled and she reached to the floor. Gabriel’s smile sent heat through her, but she knew it was fake and for the camera. Her fingers brushed the edges of the newspaper. His handsome face without remorse sent a thrill that caused her to smile too. He’d been so carefree. Whatever had happened hadn’t crushed his intensity, but his eyes seemed almost haunted.

  Then she stared at the words, and her eyes bulged out. Suspect Questioned in Murder stuck out in bold letters. No. This was crazy.

  Gabriel Murphy, eldest son of real estate mogul Jack Murphy, was questioned in the murder of Alicia Hatfield. Her tumble down the stairs of the hotel is considered suspicious. His lawyer, Quinton McDougal, has stated his client is innocent and working with the police to provide a full account of what happened at the Chateau Louis Ermons.

  Who was Alicia? Erica continued to read.

  His wife, Tiffany Murphy, had transformed the chateau into a ski chalet for the wealthy. Mrs. Murphy did not appear with her husband and has not been seen publicly in over a year, though there are multiple reports she’s on the property.

  Murder? Erica’s body convulsed. Had Tiffany set him up? Erica squeezed her eyes shut, but the word murder floated in her mind. Her heart beat a little faster, and she swallowed. Seeing the world as it was never interfered with how she thought or reacted. She gulped, and her heart raced. Her feelings were hard to read. This was impossible, and she wished she hadn’t read Tiffany’s stupid book of lies. Now this. Her body finally stilled. Coldness crept inside her lungs, but at least she calmed down.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the newspaper clipping. She rubbed her neck. Gabriel had been questioned for murder. The frayed paper held morsels of truth.

  Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. Tiffany had tortured Gabriel. That had to be the answer, but Erica never assumed anything about anyone. She gasped for air and pocketed the newspaper clipping. She glanced at the portrait on the wall of the cold woman with no smile on her lips. “You framed Gabriel?”

  A question pounded in her head. Had she welcomed into her bed a man who killed his wife and other people?

  No. Her heart screamed not to think those thoughts, but her head screamed to run away. The snow piled high outside the window, and the gray skies were darkening. There was nowhere to run.

  And then her shoulder heated at the thought of facing the wolves out there again.

  Erica’s feet shuffled backward, but she couldn’t stop the question. She had to get out of here. Her head spun again, and she shook it. If she wanted, could she get out the door?

  Her breath caught in her throat and her hands shook. She walked fast and swung the front door open. The white wolf had nearly killed her. Her body shook.

  A huge pile of snow greeted her. She’d die out there. Her hands trembled. She sucked in her lip, then slammed the door shut and gasped for air. The howl of a wolf echoed through the door. Her breath hitched and her head spun. There was no escape.

  Her entire body shook uncontrollably. Panic never helped her think logically. To stop, she placed her hands on her heart and tried to stop hyperventilating. Her choices were to be eaten or figure out a murder.

  This had to be wrong. She had to be overreacting.

  She had to think of something positive.

  A shallow whisper of a giggle escaped her lip next. She had finally discovered good sex.

  Perhaps that wasn’t a good thought. Gabriel took her in, fed her, clothed her, and was becoming the most important person in her life. Near him, she felt safe.

  Why believe anything else?

  Her breathing stayed raspy, but she dulled her heartbeat to a slower pace. To not let the whirlwind of questions float in her mind, she stared at the stairs. Black spots clouded her vision. Murderers weren’t hot, gorgeous men with the ability to make her body melt, right? And this particular man spoke to her heart.

  Trust should be natural, and her heart refused to believe the things she’d read. Her heart whispered to be calm.

  The room seemed to grow smaller. She’d always been a smart and rational woman, but now she questioned her own mind. Were winters always this bleak? She’d lived her life in the sun and never had to stare at her own shadows. Finally, she put her hands together and dropped to her knees. She decided to pray. “Please. I need help to be rational. Gabriel could not have done this.”

  A mental image of Gabriel’s strong, capable hands loomed in her mind. That wasn’t appropriate in a prayer. She stood up, brushed off her pants, and took off into a run.

  She stared up the stairs toward the second-floor rooms. The dust flew everywhere in the hallway. She swallowed. The window at the end was too far. This time she headed even farther up the stairs. The floors creaked with every step. Everything grew darker, and she was almost in pitch black, until she circled around and reached the top floor. Light reflected here. Massive windows in what was once a restaurant helped slow her heartbeat. She coughed out the dust in the air.

  She inched closer to the windows, and a breathtaking view captured her attention. A sea of evergreens was covered in snow up the side of the mountain. She leaned her forehead against the glass, despite the frigid temperature. The cold helped lower her body heat.

  She stared at the powder snow, untouched and clean. This view was what Miami people dreamed of. Snow seemed so beautiful. Her eyes searched lower down the mountain, though the blanket of white mixed with those deep green pines had no signs of human activity. From here, she couldn’t even see the wolves, unless they were all pure white.

  A sigh escaped her lips. In Miami, she had dreamed of snow sleds and snow angels and snowmen. In all the movies, families had seemed so happy. But she’d never imagined the vastness of mountains. The whiteness stretched as far at her eyes could see, and her chin trembled.

  They were alone.

  She was trapped, and if she judged the position of the sun correctly, evening approached. The grayness indicated a night storm.

  She heard a creak of the floorboards in the distance. She turned to stare around the empty room, full only of tables. This must have been a dining room for guests.

  No one was here, but she had goose bumps on her arms again.

  She rubbed her arms for warmth. Gabriel would be looking for her.

  So much for helping him today.

  Her throat itched and she massaged her neck. If she showed him the article, he’d believe she had doubts. In that moment, she made a choice. She’d not tell him what she found. She’d pretend everything was normal. She had no other option. If she told him and he was innocent, he’d withdraw. She’d never forgive anyone who accused her of murder. And if he was guilty . . .

  Her throat constricted.

  Her hand
s went clammy and cold. She’d stop that train of thought right now. He couldn’t be guilty. She’d find the truth and her assumptions would be vindicated.

  Maybe in Tiffany’s secret room? Why hadn’t she gone there today? If she had been anyone else, she’d have screamed to go there first.

  Yes. She had the best plan she could come up with. The dead wife would be easier to blame.

  17

  Footsteps echoed in the hall. Gabriel? The back of Erica’s neck tingled still. Her shoulders tightened, and she backed into a bookshelf in the library. The heaviness of the books bumped her elbows, but she’d have something to throw if the doors opened.

  She braced for impact and stared at the door to the lobby.

  “Erica?”

  Her ear buzzed in one side. Gabriel. Her heart thrummed a little less now, and she turned to gaze at the door to the apartment.

  Ghosts were a stupid thing to be frightened of. She swallowed. She’d let him think she’d spent the morning in the library. Her heart whispered he’d understand she was outside, but her head spun. In desperation, she pressed her lips together and stayed silent to take her seat. She flinched at the creak of the door. She rubbed her hands down her body, then stared up with a small smile. He opened the door.

  Without a thought, she closed a book and left it on the chair.

  “There you are. Reading again?”

  The lie wouldn’t form on her lips. She glanced at her shoes. She couldn’t tell him. She’d never been a good liar. But her muscles relaxed near him. Surely it meant something. She batted her eyelashes and stared up at him. Then she nodded. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  His muscular frame leaned against the door. “I thought you were coming to see me work today?”

  “I was.”

  “What happened?”

  “I got afraid in the lobby.”

  “Why?”

  “Wolves. They were outside the door.”

  “I am sorry, Snowflake. Were you okay?”