“I heard.” He took a sip of his wine. “I’m just telling you what we’ll be working toward. Any problems with my goals?”
CHARLOTTE WASN’T SURE SHE wasn’t hallucinating. How could she possibly be at a glossy black dining table with her big, sexy boss, talking about sexual positions? It simply did not compute. Yet he was waiting for her answer with lazy male patience.
“I don’t know,” she said at last, and because this was a surreal, strange half dream, she admitted to her inadequacies. “I’m not very good at sex.”
Gabriel put down his wineglass and then he smiled that slow, sinful smile that made her nipples go tight and her body grow even more silkily damp—if he’d demanded her panties as he’d threatened, she’d have failed the test. Miserably.
“Ms. Baird, no one is good or bad at sex by themselves,” he drawled. “It’s a team effort, and you know I’m a team player.”
Charlotte’s breasts pushed against her bra. Those breasts weren’t huge by any stretch of the imagination, but right now they felt swollen and hot, achy in a way they’d never before felt. “What if I’m not?” she asked, fighting the memory of the things Richard had said to her, things she’d never told anyone, not even Molly, she’d felt so much shame.
“I’m an excellent coach,” Gabriel said, steely eyes holding a heat that mesmerized. “One who always gets the best out of my players.” His foot brushed hers under the table. “I also have a close and very personal interest in making sure you perform to your full potential.”
Charlotte was so out of her depth by now that she was barely treading water. Not only was she an emotional mess in general, she was so pitifully inexperienced that she’d no doubt embarrass herself if she tried anything with the man sitting across the table. The one who looked at her like he wanted to devour her in small, delicious bites.
“I have to go home,” she said, putting down her fork.
She couldn’t take any more, had hit her absolute limit.
Gabriel examined her with those incisive eyes. “I’ll drive you,” he said at last. “But finish your dinner first.”
“You’re not my boss here,” she snapped out of her frustration with herself, with the universe.
“Not in an employment sense,” he said. “But I do think you need some bossing around, especially when it comes to your health.”
Charlotte had seen that look on Gabriel’s face before; it was the one that denoted no mercy in a negotiation. She thought about getting up and walking out, but regardless of her inability to handle him, she wanted to do every scandalous thing he’d suggested.
While that wasn’t going to happen, not with her panic attacks shutting things down more effectively than a cold shower, she could be with him a little longer. Even if he was being bossy and all around provocative. Truth was, she liked that about him, liked that he always treated her as if he believed she had the strength to stand against him.
So she ate the rest of the food on her plate and tried not to think about all the things he’d said he wanted to do to her. It was hard. Especially an hour later, when she was alone in her bed, her skin flushed and her body aching with need. She hadn’t been this aroused in… ever. Not even after the erotic dream this morning.
Sticky and hot, she went to shove off the sheets so she could go have an actual cold shower when her hand brushed her breasts.
Charlotte whimpered. This was insane. He hadn’t laid a finger on her and her entire body ached with need. Unable to resist, she gently cupped her breast through her nightgown. In her mind’s eye, it was Gabriel’s much bigger, tougher-skinned hand on her flesh. He wouldn’t be this gentle, would hold boldly as he pressed her down into the sheets and thrust himself inside her, his body moving heavy and muscled above her own.
He’d be rough. The way he talked, the words he’d used, it all said he’d be rough.
Hard.
Relentless.
Breath coming in sharp, desperate pants, Charlotte pressed her thighs together and squeezed her own breast harder than she’d ever before done. Her back arched, a soft cry escaping her throat. When she came down from the shock of pleasure, it was to find her knees bent, her nightgown bunched at her upper thighs, and her hand still on her breast.
Blushing, she removed her hand, pushed down her nightgown, then wanted to kick herself. Why was she blushing? She was alone in her damn bedroom and she’d just given in to an erotic daydream. What was wrong with that? Nothing, that’s what. It was great. Today was the first time in years she’d been able to truly let go. If she’d imagined Gabriel in a compromising position, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done the same with her.