Rock Kiss 02 Rock Hard(51)

Dirty.

That’s what he’d called his fantasies about her. Dirty. Breath turning shallow again as she thought about the office fantasy he’d described, the one that ended up with her screaming his name while he licked her between her splayed thighs, she got up and tugged off the nightgown, threw it to the floor, then lay back down. Her skin was too hot, her entire body aflame.

The fantasy continued to run through her head, her mind whispering that he’d called her “delicious.” Turning over flat on her stomach, she tried to imagine what it might feel like to have his hands under her thighs, pulling her forward, strong and demanding. To have that sexy, dangerous mouth on her. To hear him lowering his zipper before he pulled her down on his lap and onto his cock.

Moaning, she tried to control the movements of her hips, her mind filled with images so carnal she couldn’t believe they came from her. When her phone buzzed, she wanted to let it go, but its buzz kept intruding on the torturous pleasure of her imagined liaison with Gabriel. Finally grabbing it off the bedside table, she said, “Hello.”

“Ms. Baird, you sound breathless again.” Gabriel’s deep voice went straight to her nipples and the slick folds between her thighs. “Did I make you run to get the phone?”

“No, I’m in bed,” she said and barely bit back a groan at what she’d revealed.

“Ah. And breathless.” His voice dropped. “You better be alone or we’ll be having a very interesting talk the next time we meet.”

Her skin grew tight at the rumbling warning. Inhaling jerkily, she said, “Of course I’m alone.”

“Then the breathlessness becomes far more intriguing.”

Charlotte pulled up the sheet to cover herself, feeling exposed even though he was on the other end of the phone line. “I was just… doing something.”

“Good, keep doing it. I want to hear you do it.”

Her heart kicked. “No,” she said and hung up. Then she went and had that cold shower because she needed to think, needed to remember that no matter how much Gabriel thought he wanted her, he’d give up soon enough. A man that hot, that masculine, wouldn’t be happy with a woman who had panic attacks before he ever laid a finger on her.

The worst thing?

It was the fact her fear had nothing to do with sex.





18

GABRIEL IS (SINFULLY) INAPPROPRIATE





MIDMORNING THE NEXT DAY and Charlotte was staring morosely at her oven, trying to convince herself that baking a tray of cupcakes would make her feel better, when the phone rang again. Figuring it was Molly, she picked it up. The name on the screen made her heart kick, her nipples go to full attention against the thin red T-shirt she wore without a bra.

Thank God Gabriel couldn’t see her.

“Do I need to come in for work today too?” she asked.

While she occasionally vetoed Gabriel’s weekend demands on principle, she had fun with him when they worked Saturdays or Sundays. It was often only the two of them on the floor for long periods, and Gabriel was always more relaxed—to the point that it was on a weekend that she’d first heard him laugh.

At the end of her rope with his demands, she’d picked up her muffin on a violent urge to throw it at his head. Then he’d raised an eyebrow at her and she’d actually done it. Catching it easily in the air, as he’d once caught rugby balls thrown from lineouts, he’d bitten into it.

“Banana and chocolate chip,” he’d said. “Thanks, Ms. Baird, but you really don’t have to bring me food.”

Her infuriated scream had made him throw back his head and laugh, a big, beautiful creature limned by the sunlight. She’d wanted to touch him so badly it hurt.

Grinning as he swallowed another bite, he’d said, “I owe you a muffin. We’re going for coffee in fifteen minutes.”

Despite her temper, she’d gone with him. They’d ended up grabbing takeout coffee and walking to sit in Aotea Square, the central city spot that always had something going on. That sunny Sunday, it had been a skateboarding competition, temporary ramps set up for the skateboarders. Sitting on one of the benches at the edge of the square with Gabriel beside her, she’d felt almost normal.

For a few minutes.

Until she’d remembered that unlike the other women around them who laughed with their men, she wasn’t brave enough to entrust herself to someone so much bigger and stronger than her, someone who could hurt her on a whim. Who could punch her and kick her and do anything he wanted. Telling herself it wasn’t going to happen, that Gabriel wasn’t that kind of man, didn’t help—the fear was embedded too deeply in her bones.