I don’t know if I should laugh or shout. He’s adorable, and yet somehow quite controlling. He likes control. I saw that last night and while I said no more controlling men, there’s something about the way Gabe goes about it. I grab the toothbrush, open a drawer and find it tidy and organized, with toothpaste right in the center. Tidy and organized is also about control.
I brush my teeth and then my hair with his brush. I use his moisturizer, which is actually a good brand. After, I hunt down my phone and check for messages that I don’t have and with it in hand, I head downstairs, following the scent of coffee down the steel steps with leather-covered handrails. I enter the open living room connected to the kitchen to find the incredible ocean view to my left can’t hold my attention. Not with the incredibly hot, shirtless man behind the island flipping pancakes.
I stop walking, holding onto the rail next to the final step, and just drink in the view that is all Gabe and no one else. He’s right, so very right, that he’s the only man present. In fact, I’m not sure I even remember my ex’s name right this minute. I’m not sure that I remember my name right now.
He looks up and catches my stare, the connection between us downright electric. Every muscle in my body tenses and heats. He settles a pancake on a plate and turns off the stove, pressing his hands on the counter to look at me. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I say and my voice trembles with schoolgirl-like nerves that scream of how affected I am by this man. How incapable of playing it cool with this man I am, but I’m not sure I really want to play it cool. I kissed him in a hallway outside a bathroom and started this spontaneous, sexy fun, which now more than ever, feels right with Gabe.
“I hope you’re as hungry as I am right now,” he adds, his stare raking over my puckered nipples underneath his thin white T-shirt before it lifts to mine again. “Come here.” It’s a low, rough command, and a few days ago I would have sworn I wouldn’t take another order from a man in my personal life, but I’m back to Gabe. It’s all about Gabe. It’s about what he makes me feel. It’s about the way he commands, and my nipples tighten, and my sex aches.
I start walking, crossing to join him, but when I could round the island to stand next to him, I don’t. I stop on the opposite side of the counter and set my phone down to press my hands to the hard surface. He leans in a little closer. “I like you like this.”
“How is that?” I ask.
“Natural. No make-up. In my apartment and naked except for my T-shirt that I’m already mentally taking off of you.”
“Then how will you feed me?” I dare, his sexy playfulness catching fire in me.
“Sweetheart, you can eat pancakes while I eat you and I’ll be a happy man.”
My cheeks heat, laughter bubbling from my lips. “Did you really just say that?”
“And meant it,” he assures me, wiggling a brow at me. “Come over here and find out.”
“Are you naked right now?”
He laughs. “No. You don’t make pancakes with the family jewels on display. That’s dangerous.”
We both laugh now and it fades into a combustible heat. “I’m coming over this counter to get you if you don’t get your sweet ass around it right now.”
My cellphone rings and he’s the one who glances at it and then me. “Your mother,” he says, reading the caller ID. “Take it so you won’t worry. Then we’ll eat pancakes.” He pauses for effect and adds, “Eventually.”
So I won’t worry? How does he know this about me already? “Thank you,” I mouth and then grab my phone and answer. “Morning, mom.”
“I have a problem. Oh God, I have a huge problem. It’s really—it’s bad and—” Dogs yap in the background. “I need help.”
“What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
Gabe sets the pan he’s picked up back down and meets my stare, concern in his eyes as my mother says, “We broke two pipes. The place is flooding. I have to get the dogs out. I have volunteers coming in, but I don’t even know where to take the dogs. The cages are flooding. It’s horrible. It’s so bad.”
“Oh no. Oh God.” I press my hand to my forehead. “I’ll be right there. I’ll—we’ll figure it out.” I disconnect and look at Gabe. “I have to go.” I dart toward the stairs to find my clothes and by the time I make it to the stairs, Gabe has my arm and is turning me to face him.
“What happened?”
“My ex just happened. Two pipes broke at the shelter. It’s flooding the cages. We have to evacuate. He did this to get us off the property. I know he did. He’s ruining us the way he’ll ruin you if you let him. That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
“I won’t let him ruin you or me. And he damn sure isn’t going to hurt those dogs.” He starts up the stairs and grabs my hand, pulling me with him.
“Gabe!” I call out behind him. “What are you doing?”
He glances down at me. “We’re going to save the animals and then I might just go beat your ex’s ass.” He reaches the top level and when he drags me to his side, he adds, “And if one of the animals gets hurt, I might do a whole lot worse.” He sets me ahead of him and walks me into the bedroom.
I rotate to face him. “A whole lot worse? What does that even mean?”
“I’ll let you know when I decide,” is his only reply.
All kinds of warning bells go off in my head. I’m dragging him into this. He’s going to regret it. “This is not your battle.”
“It is now. It has been since the minute you kissed me in that hallway. We just didn’t know it then, and you might not know it now, but I do. This is my battle and I win my battles. We’re going to win this one.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gabe
We need to get to the shelter where those animals are being tortured by a flood of water, which is exactly why when Abbie calls, “Gabe, stop!” I tighten my hold on her hand and keep us moving up my stairs toward my bedroom.
“That your ex would flood an animal shelter to get what he wants,” I say, leading her to the second level of my apartment, “tells me just how terrorized you’ve been by this man.” I pull her forward into my bedroom. “I’m not worried about me,” she says, pressing on my chest, her gaze averted. I hit a nerve. I think I hit more than one nerve. “I need to go. My mother will have tons of volunteers helping, but she’ll be panicked. She needs me. I can’t rescue animals from water in a skirt and heels. I have to get home and change.”
“Which is why we don’t have time to go by your place. My sister left some clothes here. You can wear those.” I motion to the dresser. “Top right drawer.”
“Your sister?” She opens her mouth to say more and seems to think better of it, cutting her gaze instead, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.
“I need to go home.” She tries to pull away.
I catch her arm and force her to face me. “Sister is not a code for some woman I fucked,” I say, my hands coming down on her shoulders. “I told you, Abbie, I don’t bring women here.” But even as I make that statement, her eyes meet mine and they tell a story. She still doesn’t believe me, and why would she? She barely knows me and she’s coming off a relationship with a man who lied to her and cheated on her.
I grab my phone from my pocket and hit the auto-dial for my sister. “Cat,” I say when she answers.
“What’s up, big brother?”
“I need you to tell Abbie, who is standing here with me, that the women’s clothes I have at my apartment are yours.”
Abbie shakes her head, trying to back away, but I catch her arm and pull her to me. “She’s my sister, Abbie. I promise you.”
Meanwhile, Cat responds to my question and what she just overheard, “Oh. Wow. You care what this Abbie person thinks? This is new.”
“Yes,” I say, not even fighting it which is just as fucking new. “It is. And her family has an animal shelter that’s presently flooding and in crisis. The animals are in danger and she needs something to wear other than a skirt and heels.�
�
“Oh God. Yes. Tell her to wear my clothes or just put her on the line.”
God, I love my sister. I don’t deserve her after the way I used to treat her. I say that. “I don’t deserve you, Cat.”
“Not yet, but you’re working on that.”
“I am,” I assure her. “I really am. Hold on.” I hold out the phone to Abbie. “This is Cat. She’s my baby sister who writes Cat Does Crime, the syndicated column, just so you know it’s really her. You can look her up and confirm that I’m telling the truth.”
“I don’t need to talk to Cat,” Abbie says, holding up her hands, refusing the phone. “I trust you, Gabe.”
“Trust me by talking to her.” I put the phone on speaker. “Cat, you’re live.”
“Hi, Abbie.”
“Hi, Cat.”
“I’m his sister and he’s my asshole brother, who I love. And despite the asshole-ness, he’s a good guy. He shoots straight. He wouldn’t want me to talk to you if you didn’t matter to him.”
Abbie’s eyes meet mine, the growing bond between us expanding in the room. “He seems like a pretty good guy for an asshole.”
She laughs. “He is. Please wear my clothes and we’re coming to help.”
“You’re pregnant, Cat,” I remind her. “You don’t need to come and help.”
“I’m pregnant,” Cat says. “Not disabled. Good grief, Gabe. I’m coming to help and so is Reese, he just doesn’t know it yet. Abbie, wear my clothes. All is well. No worries at all. Do you need waterproof boots, too? I have extras. I’ll bring you some.”
Abbie’s eyes meet mine, hers warm and appreciative. “That would be great, Cat. Thank you.”
“You bet. I’ll see you soon. Tell Gabe to text me the address.” She laughs. “Never mind, I just told him. I’m on speaker. Text me, Gabe!” She hangs up.
I slide my phone in my pocket. “If you’re wondering how my grown sister left clothes at my place, Reese, her husband, was traveling and she forced her way into my apartment with an overnight bag, and then forced me to put up a Christmas tree. She proceeded to spill eggnog, which she brought with her and made for me to drink, down the front of her. She did her laundry here and left it behind.”
“You didn’t have to tell me that, Gabe.”
“I know, and if you were anyone else, I wouldn’t have. You’re different, Abbie. I don’t know why. I don’t know how, but you are.”
“And you are nothing that I expected.”
“Considering what you’ve been through, I’ll take that as a compliment, which I’ll thank you properly for later.” I motion to the dresser again. “Top drawer behind you,” I remind her. “Where you’ll find the only women’s clothes I’ve ever had in the apartment.” I leave that statement in the air, and I don’t wait for her reply. I kiss her and then set her free to walk into the closet and start dressing. Once I’m in sweats, a T-shirt, a hoodie and sneakers, I return to the bedroom to find Abbie in my sister’s black leggings, pink T-shirt, and socks. “I have no shoes.”
I hold up a finger and walk into the closet, grabbing Cat’s sneakers. I return and glance at the size. “Seven. Does that work?”
“Perfect.” She says, shoving her red curls from her face and taking the sneakers from me, but not before she plants a kiss on my cheek that charms the hell out of me.
Fuck.
I’m in trouble with this woman and while that’s crazy for me, the crazier part is that I don’t even care.
We finish dressing, and I find myself watching her, only to find her watching me. We keep looking at each other, a charge between us that mixes with smiles and laughter, but no words. We don’t need to speak or fuck to connect. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. We don’t even verbally agree to leave the apartment. We just do. We know when we’re both ready and the minute we’re in the elevator I give security a show. I pull all those soft, sweet curves of hers next to me and tangle my fingers in her wild, red curls, and kiss the hell out of her, drinking her in.
Claiming her.
It’s a crazy thought and I like it.
A few minutes later, we’re in my black BMW M4 and pulling onto the road and Abbie has given me the address to our destination that I key into my navigation system. I set us in motion and hand her my phone. “How about texting Cat the address? She’s in my directory as expected: Cat.”
She takes the phone from me, and I focus on the road, but I can feel her hesitation at the request that implies intimacy and trust, but she sends the message. Almost instantly my phone buzzes with a returned text. I stop at a light and Abbie drops her head back to rest on the seat and hands me my phone. “I just saw the message Cat just sent you.”
“What did she say?”
“Gabe,” she breathes out. “It was about me.”
“I have no problem with you reading anything she wrote.”
“I shouldn’t have read it.”
I take the phone and scan the message before reading it out loud, “Since when do you care what any woman thinks? Since when do you have a woman at your apartment? Am I in an alternate universe or is she really special?” I glance at Abbie. “Like I said. I have no problem with you reading that message.” I type a reply and hand her my phone. “Read my reply.”
The light turns green and I start driving. She seems to hesitate but reads the reply. “She’s a witch. I’m under a damn spell. It’s the only explanation I have for what’s happening right now.” She glances at me. “I’m not a witch.” She sets my phone in my lap and tries to pull away, but I catch her hand. “I’m not falling for you, Gabe. No matter how great a kisser you are. No matter how many orgasms you give me. No matter how charming, funny, and—you, you are. I’m not.”
I laugh. “How me I am?”
“Yes. I’m not falling for you,” she repeats.
I wink. “I hear ya, sweetheart. I’m not falling for you, either. So, put your spellbook back on the bookshelf. It won’t work.”
She studies me an intense moment and then she laughs. And I laugh and the moment weaves into a current that is all about sex and satisfaction and about ten shades of something more that I don’t begin to understand. But damn, I want to, I want to in a bad way.
I want her in a bad way.
And her ex better look out, because I’m not moving aside. I’m going to stand between him and her, a wall that punches back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Gabe
We’re about ten minutes out from the shelter when Abbie gets a text. “My mother,” she says, reading the message and then updating me. “She has tons of volunteers that just showed up and none of the animals are in danger as she feared. They moved the ones that were in danger with more ease than expected.” She glances at me. “But it’s still a horrible mess and the cages that are safe are crowded with too many dogs.”
“We need to find a place to move them,” I say, confirming what she’d suggested earlier.
“Exactly.”
“I’ll make some calls. I have a few contacts that might be able to help.” My cellphone rings and I glance down at it to find Reid’s number. “My brother,” I say, eyeing Abbie, who immediately sits up slightly, in reaction. “The real asshole of the family,” I add, winking, trying to ease the tension I feel radiating off of her before I answer the line with, “Morning, asshole.”
“Let’s talk about the property your new girlfriend owns,” he says, letting my endearment roll right off of him and skipping any niceties. Reid doesn’t do nice and I generally like this about my brother. “Nothing is pulling up on it that indicates a reason her ex would be hot to get his hands on that location,” he continues, “at least not that I could find in a basic search.”
“He’d be smart enough to suppress that information.” Then again, he wasn’t smart enough to keep Abbie, I think, and add out loud, “Or someone on his team would be.”
“Jean Claude damn sure would be,” Reid agrees. “And if dad’s representing Jean Claude, we know he damn su
re would as well. We need to know what’s on the line before I go stirring this pot.”
“I’ll get Walker Security to dig into the hidden agenda here.”
“I think that’s a good idea, and speaking of hidden agendas. Before you dive in too deep with this woman, I get it. She’s under your skin, but her ex is a rich dick aligned with dangerous people. Maybe he wants her back. He has plenty of money to lure her back. You need to be careful. Don’t go getting fucked in the head and the heart when you usually just get fucked.”
I stifle a need to snap back. He’s protecting me and now that he’s warned me, I’m reminded of just how obsessed Abbie is with her ex. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. I shouldn’t have to remind a woman that I’m the only man in the room. Fuck. She should know, and Abbie—Abbie doesn’t allow me to be the only man in the room, ever. Not thus far. I should have her with me fully, have her absorbed enough that it’s not even a question; I know she’s thinking of me.
“I want to know what this is really about before I play on this field,” Reid says, pulling me back into the conversation. “And I want you to know, too.”
My jaw sets hard. “Understood.”
“Call me,” he says. “Let me know. I’m in this if you are. You know that.”
He disconnects and I grip the steering wheel, tension radiating down my spine. “What did he say?” Abbie asks, her tone urgent. “Because you changed on that call.”
“We can talk about it after we finish at the shelter.”
She catches my arm and repeats herself, “What did he say?”
“Reid needs more information to move forward.” I turn us into the shelter parking lot.
“I can give him anything he wants,” she says, “but that isn’t what happened on that call. That’s just information from the conversation. Something happened. What?”
I pull us into a parking spot, twenty cars deep from the building entrance and the place is insanely busy with what I assume to be volunteers. I kill the engine, my vision locked on a concrete wall in front of me, while my body and mind are locked on Abbie. Abbie who is under my damn skin. Abbie who has done what no other woman has since college, and that was a long damn time ago when I was young and foolish.
His Demand (Dirtier Duet Book 1) Page 7
