His Demand (Dirtier Duet Book 1)

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “I have ideas,” I offer before I can stop myself. “I mean well—if you—”

  “I do,” he says, leaning in and kissing me, his mouth close, breath warm, teasing my cheek as he adds, “Keep saying things that place us together, tomorrow and the day after and the day after. It works for me. It works for us, Abbie.”

  I want to melt into him, to absorb those words and enjoy this man, but fear balls in my chest and I find myself pulling back. “I’m being selfish.” I press my hand to his chest. “I want you and this and us. But I’m forgetting who he is. He will come for you. He will, Gabe.”

  “Wait,” he says, pulling me in front of him. “Are you saying that wanting me is selfish?”

  “Yes. It is. He’ll come after you.”

  “Be selfish,” he orders. “I like selfish when it includes you with me. And let him come, Abbie. I can handle him, but from this point forward, we’re together. We’re seeing this through together.”

  “I can’t say that. We just met.”

  “We’re together. Don’t say it. I’ll show you.” He kisses my hand. “Now, what does Dexter need that I’m forgetting? We need to grab some food on our way to the shelter.”

  “You mean the ranch.”

  “Same thing now,” he says, winking. “We’re taking it over.” He turns me to face Dexter. “Water. No food. He has his bone. Anything else?”

  I lean back to look over my shoulder at him. “No. Dexter is fine.” I rotate in his arms. “Gabe.”

  “No more in and out, Abbie. In or out. We’re in this together or we’re not.”

  I tell myself to say no, but I know that’s not going to happen. “In,” I say softly. “I’m in.”

  He rewards me with a devastatingly handsome smile. “Then let’s go eat. Do you like a good burger? I know a great spot on the way to the ranch.”

  “I’m in again,” I say. “Burgers are one of my favorites.” And before I know his intent, the fingers of one hand sliding into my hair and he’s turned me to press me against the wall, his big body framing mine, powerful legs capturing my legs. His free hand settling under my coat on my waist.

  “Gabe,” I whisper, tilting my chin up to his, offering him my mouth by no conscious choice, and he is already there, his lips on my lips, his tongue licking into my mouth, drugging me with the spicy, addictive taste of him. That’s it. His word. My dilemma. I’m addicted to this man and I have been since the minute I saw him in the bar, even before that spontaneous kiss.

  “What was that for?” I ask when his lips part from mine.

  “For being so damn perfect.”

  My brow furrows. “But all I did was claim a love of burgers.”

  “Which,” he says, “is a highly admirable quality.”

  I laugh. “You just wanted to kiss me.”

  “Hmmm. I want to do a whole lot more than kiss you, but the animals are waiting.” My stomach growls and he laughs. “And so is a burger with your name on it.”

  I laugh and he laughs again and it’s fun. I’m having fun with this man, even in the middle of so much insanity. “Let’s get back out to the car,” he says, linking his fingers with mine, a possessive, romantic action that says he can’t stop touching me. I can’t stop touching him either.

  With a warm blanket of awareness wrapping us, we exit the house again into a cold night, but this man warms me beyond that chill. He releases me to lock up and my phone buzzes with a text.

  Dread fills me with the idea that it’s my ex again, of course, it is. I didn’t reply to his message. I glance down and read: Silence is not your friend. You can’t silent treatment this away.

  It’s a reference to the times I shut down and shut him out. The times I knew he smelled like another woman, and yet, he wanted to cozy up to me. Or act like nothing was wrong. Or tell me what to do. Order me, is more like it.

  Gabe steps in front of me and reaches for the phone, covering it with his hand, but he doesn’t take it when I expect him to. “Him?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I?”

  Can he? He’s asking? He is. He’s asking, not assuming. Not demanding. This man is arrogant in his own way, powerful, dominant and yet respectful. It’s a splash of wonderful. He’s all kinds of wonderful. “Yes.” I release the phone into his hand, wanting him to understand how intense this is going to get if he stays involved.

  He reads the message and glances at me. “You don’t strike me as the silent type.”

  “It’s a coping mechanism with him.”

  “So if you ever go silent on me, I’m in deep shit.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ll just yell at you.”

  “Yelling works, but only if hot fucking comes afterward. Make-up sex is mandatory.”

  He then stuns me by punching the number to call my ex from my phone. “Gabe. Gabe, what are you doing?”

  “Having a quick chat with your crazy ex.”

  “Stop.”

  But it’s too late. I can hear my ex as he answers and says, “Got smart and actually called me, did you?”

  Gabe’s eyes meet mine. “Got smart and handed me the phone, asshole.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Gabe

  Abbie stares at me with big, worried eyes, and I have never wanted to wash away anyone’s worry like I do this woman’s. “Please don’t do this,” she whispers, grabbing my hoodie as I hold her phone to my ear.

  But I have to do this. I have to lay down the rule of law with her ex, who demands, “You’re treading on dangerous water, Maxwell. Careful where you step.”

  I smirk and turn away from Abbie, not interested in her seeing this part of me just yet, but I really have no choice. “Threats will get you everywhere with me,” I assure him, “and nowhere with Abbie. I like them. I revel in them. I get off on them, but when they’re directed at Abbie, you become a stalker, and stalkers get arrested.”

  He snorts. “Stalker. The stalker who fucked her a whole lot more than you ever will. And I’ll fuck her again and again and again if I want her. She’s mine when I say she’s mine. She’s playing you, fucking you to fuck with me. How does it feel to be toyed with and used?”

  It’s everything Reid had warned me about, but it’s also him trying to get into my head and he’s not getting into my head. “Let’s talk about getting fucked and played,” I say. “As in bend over without even a finger of Vaseline. That’s you if you keep on playing these head games with Abbie. You want the property the shelter is on? Be a fucking man and pay up. If you don’t, you don’t get it.”

  “Now you’re her attorney, too? She really is playing you, isn’t she?”

  “Damn straight I am. You want to talk about the shelter, call my office and set-up an appointment.”

  “She’ll be in jail before she blinks. I don’t need to pay up.”

  “The press you’re going to get over this isn’t going to be favorable.”

  “There’s no one in the press that will cross me.”

  “Are you willing to gamble on that?”

  “Are you willing to throw away everything for a romp in the sack? Because you’re declaring war with me, Jean Claude, and your father.”

  “Now you’re just trying to turn me on. Hold on. Let me adjust my pants.”

  He growls into the phone. “I told you. You’re in dangerous territory. You want war, I’ll give you war.”

  “Be sure you know who you’re going to war with before you declare it. Ask Jean Claude what the Maxwell brothers are capable of and then get back to me. And don’t call Abbie again. Ever.”

  “She’s a little cunt, just like you.”

  “I know I’m under a man’s skin when he starts using the C-word. Make an appointment with my secretary and we’ll talk about the terms of a sale.” I disconnect and turn to face Abbie, who immediately goes off on me.

  “What was that, Gabe? What gave you the right to do that?”

  “I’m protecting you.”

  “I didn’t ask you to protect me.”r />
  “You came to me, to my firm to represent you.”

  “And instead we ended up fucking.”

  Dexter whines.

  I step toward Abbie and she backs up. “Stop. Stop right there. You—”

  “Protected you.”

  “You baited him. You pissed him off. You made it worse.”

  “I let him know that you’re not alone.”

  Her green eyes spark with anger. “You act like I’m your property.” Her voice is low, taut.

  “Like you’re my woman,” I bite out.

  “And that means you get to make my decisions? If that’s what being your woman means, then I’m out. I’ve been there, done that and I’m not doing it again.” She shoves Dexter’s leash at me and turns away. “I’ll get an Uber.”

  I catch her arm and turn her around to me. “You’re comparing me to him now? Because I want to protect you?”

  “Protecting me doesn’t mean making my decisions. And if I get owned, I want it to be in bed, not like this.”

  I pull her to me. “I’m not trying to own you. That’s not what I want. Except in bed. I do want to own you in bed.”

  “You already do,” she whispers, “but isn’t that the problem? You think because I submit there that I will submit anywhere?”

  “No. No, Abbie.” I scrub my jaw and cut my stare before I look at her and offer a reluctant explanation. “I’m not good at relationships for reasons that we don’t have time for right now. I’m fucked up and ten shades of trouble, but damn it, I’m all in with you. Be all in with me.”

  “I told you I am, but then you—you did that. You should have talked to me.”

  “I really believe that what I just did was good for you.”

  “He’s brutal, Gabe. He will come after you and me ten times harder now.”

  “He won’t.”

  “He will,” she insists. “He will. That was a cock fight and in case you didn’t know, he’s five-foot-nine with a short man’s complex, and he flexes with his money and his power.”

  “I have more money than you think I have. More than he knows I have, which is in our favor.”

  “Gabe,” She grabs my lapels. “What part of this do you not get? He scares me. He should scare you.”

  “He doesn’t scare me and he won’t scare you when I’m done with him.”

  “Do you remember when I told you that he told me Jean Claude had people killed for crossing him? Money and power aren’t going to help you or us if we’re dead.”

  “I’m my father’s son. No one is going to kill me or you.”

  “That’s it. We’re broken up. The end. You and I are no more.” She tries to pull away again.

  I mold her close. “We’re not over.”

  “You don’t get to make that decision. I’m part of the us. I’m part of the we.”

  I drop Dexter’s leash and step on it and then cup her head. “I’m going to have to kiss you now.”

  “Fine. Kiss me goodbye.”

  “Does this taste like goodbye?” I demand, my lips closing down on hers, my tongue stroking deeply into her mouth, my desire for this woman, my need for her, burning through me, and lacing that kiss. “Does it?” I demand when my lips part hers.

  “I will not let you get yourself killed,” she says, “so yes, it’s goodbye.”

  I kiss her again and this time I mold her close, my hand on her back, fingers splaying between her shoulder blades, my mouth devouring her until once again I demand, “Is that goodbye?”

  She breathes out and whispers. “Next time ask me before you do anything like that.”

  “Next time I’ll ask.”

  “And you only get to own me—”

  “If an orgasm is involved,” I supply. “I can live with that.” I stroke her cheek. “I don’t want to own you, Abbie. I want so much more.” I stroke her cheek. “Let’s go get that burger.”

  “Yes. Let’s.”

  We turn toward the steps and Dexter whines and lifts his paw. We both laugh and give him attention before we head out to our ride where it waits. Once Dexter is back in the front seat with our driver and we’re in the back, I pull Abbie close. Her fear of her ex worries me. Her fear of murder downright sends a chill down my spine, and with good reason. With what I know that Abbie doesn’t is that my father and Jean Claude, her ex’s partner at least in some portions of business, have something in common. And that something is murder.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Abbie

  We’re about to leave Gabe’s house when I laugh and turn to Gabe. “Wait. We were supposed to leave Dexter behind.”

  He laughs. “So we were.” He scrubs his jaw. “I do believe we have a lot on our minds. I’ll take him back inside.”

  Dexter is not pleased with this news, and whines when Gabe tries to get him out of the vehicle, but he gives in and heads inside like a good boy.

  Gabe follows him inside the house, and I stare down at the message from my asshole of an ex. He was threatening Gabe and Gabe didn’t blink, in fact, he baited him. He asked for trouble. I know Gabe knows Kenneth is a bad man. I know he knows Jean Claude is a bad man. So why push the limits? Because he knows Jean Claude and certainly he knows his father. No matter what odds he might be at with his father, he’s still his son. They are still parent and child. Gabe isn’t operating blindly or without resources. That’s why I came to his firm. I knew that. I know that now.

  I glance back down at the message with no new text to follow. I’d have expected to get one after that call. Another threat for sure. But it didn’t come. Is my ex afraid of Gabe? Could this go away that easily? No. No, it feels too easy. It feels like a problem waiting to erupt, but right now, I need to just help my mother get through this night. The animals need to be settled, but in the back of my mind, a new fear erupts. Gabe opens the car door and eyes me. “I’ll drive.” He casts a look at the driver. “We’re done for the night.”

  “Oh. You have a car here?”

  “I do,” he says, holding up a BMW key and then offering me his hand.

  A few minutes later, we’re settled into a fancy black sporty BMW with Gabe looking quite sexy behind the wheel. “How is Dexter?”

  “Happy with his chew bone. I need to stock up on those things.” He starts the engine. “Mike’s Burgers, here we come.”

  I rotate to face him. “Gabe—”

  His hand is immediately at the back of my neck, his lips on my lips, his tongue licking against mine before he says, “Whatever you’re about to say, we’ll handle it.” He strokes my cheek. “I promise. Let’s just get your mom through tonight.”

  “What if relocating the animals somehow sets up a takeover of the property? What if I missed something in the contract?”

  He pulls back and looks at me. “How carefully did you read the contract?”

  “I made them revise it three times.”

  “Then does relocating the animals revert the property to your ex?”

  “No. Not unless I missed something. I normally trust myself, but now—this just feels too set-up.”

  “It was set-up,” he confirms. “We already know that, but that doesn’t mean there’s a contractual reason.” His hand settles on my leg. “It’s proven that if you aren’t occupying the property, then you’re more likely to give up the fight to keep it. At the risk of sounding like an ass, when this is just business, I’ve used it myself.”

  “You have?”

  “I have and I told you, my father’s a prick. He’ll do anything to win, which is one of the main reasons we pushed him out of the firm. I promise you, this was his doing.”

  “You think your father set-up the flooding of the shelter?”

  “Yes,” he says, “I do.”

  “He’s that bad?”

  “Yes, he is, but I know how to fight my father. You’re not going to let the shelter become a ghost town. The day after tomorrow, we’ll have a clean-up crew there and we’ll make damn sure we get at least some of the animals back in their plac
es within seventy-two hours.”

  “Gabe, that’s big money. I have to wait on the insurance and—”

  He leans in and kisses me. “It’s almost the end of the year. Grant me the tax write-off. I need it.”

  My hand settles on the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “You’re impossible.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “You’re generous to the extreme and I appreciate it—but I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

  “I volunteered my help and for a good cause.”

  “And here we are. Burger time,” Gabe says again, with a smile. “You’re going to love these burgers like a fat kid loves cake.”

  I laugh. “That’s a very politically incorrect joke.”

  He wiggles his eyebrows and sets us in motion. “That’s me. Politically incorrect.”

  “Yes, you are,” I agree, and once we’re on the road, “Bend you over without a finger of Vaseline. Really?”

  “Did you want me to be gentler with him?” he asks, his tone serious as he opens the door for me.

  “No,” I say, laughing again. “No. I don’t want you to be gentler with him but you crack me up.”

  We laugh and joke for the next five minutes until we’re at the burger joint where we are both eager to get inside, walking hand in hand, with hurried steps. Once inside, we claim a table with open seating and a waitress eyes Gabe as she approaches us with a greeting and request for our order. “Two of my usual.” He glances at me. “Cheeseburger and fries. That works, right?”

  “Yes. It does. Well done.”

  “Well, then my usual works perfectly,” he concludes, his gaze warm with this realization, as if our liking the same burger the same way turns him on while he is what turns me on. The way he looks at me. The way he talks to me. The way he protects me. And the way he makes me laugh. “Let me adjust my pants,” I say, snorting while repeating his earlier statement. “Do you say that kind of thing in all negotiations?”

  “Shit does tend to come out of my mouth. It works with Reid, though. He’s a hard-ass that just drives nails in people while I take them off guard with the unexpected. We’re a good team.”