“What?”
Insecurity was thick on her tongue. Alonzo had taken pictures of her. Those nasty pictures that he sent to Val flashed in her mind. “I don’t blame you.” She tugged her hand again.
“Blame? You think my need to touch you is gone because of what that bastard did to you?”
She didn’t meet his eyes.
He tugged her hand closer and turned her into the closed door of the bedroom suite. He was on her in a breath.
His hard body molding itself to hers, his growing erection pressing firm on her belly. Long fingers let loose her hand and wove onto her neck. And then his lips were in the exact place they’d been before Meg had interrupted them. Insecurity flew away like the wind blowing past the plane at over three hundred miles an hour.
Hunter’s lips were hot, open as he dragged his teeth along her neck.
Gabi slumped against the door.
She felt Hunter’s free hand run down her waist and hip.
“Does this feel like a man who doesn’t desire you? A man hung up on your past?” he whispered, his warm breath against her ear.
He shifted her hips closer, the hard edge of him pressing her into submission.
“No.”
He nipped at her chin, the side of her lips. “Never think for a minute I don’t want you . . . just like this.”
She reached around his waist, tried to get closer.
He groaned, his breathing heavy. “You’re not ready for me.”
Gabi was fairly certain she was. The scent of her desire mixed with his.
“You hated me last week,” he said against her cheek. “You’ll hate me again next.”
She started to shake her head.
“Yes. You will.” He took some of his weight off of her, but didn’t completely let go. “Hating me I can handle. Hating yourself for letting me inside of you . . . I don’t think I can live with that.”
His rejection still stung, even if he made sense.
Instead of the hot kiss she expected . . . wanted more than air, he kissed her forehead and walked away.
True to his word, he stayed away from his wife for nearly an entire week. He did, however, find a reason to call her every day. Is escrow going as planned? Have the media let up? Do you know where to go to catch my plane for Dallas?
She saw through all of it. By Friday, she sent him a text . . . Escrow is closing next week, probably Thursday. I only hit one tabloid today. You’re in two. The car will be here at eight to take me to the airport . . . and before you ask, the weather is fine.
As he read her text, he smiled.
Another blinked in before he could respond. The flowers are beautiful.
Her local florist knew his credit card number by heart.
He tapped his fingers on his desk, searching for a reason to hear her voice.
She picked up on the first ring. “Couldn’t stop yourself, could you?” There was laughter in her voice.
“This is important.” He leaned back in his chair, stared out over the New York skyline.
“I’m waiting.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Excuse me?”
He laughed, caught his own slip. “In Dallas?”
“I was thinking yoga pants and a sport bra . . . you?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. The image of her in spandex shot straight to his balls. “That might work.”
“A dress, Hunter. I’m wearing a dress.”
“What color?”
“What is it with you and women’s fashion? Going to take on Bloomingdales? Macy’s?”
“I don’t think the world of fashion could handle me.”
She laughed, the sound warmed him more than it should. He was playing a dangerous game but couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“I was thinking black. Or red . . . red is a power color, and since you’re going into a business relationship with the Adams, I thought a power color would be appropriate.”
Damn, that was smart. He remembered early on in his acquiring years he’d listened to a media consultant say nearly the same thing.
“Did your brother teach you that?”
Her short laugh told him otherwise. “I taught him. He’s taken the power suit to a new level, but I spent countless hours explaining the need to dress like you’re already the boss.”
“Wear black.”
“And if I want to wear red?” she huffed.
Once again, he was reminded that she wasn’t his employee. “Please.”
“It kills you to say that . . . doesn’t it?”
“Years off my life.”
“Well, if that was your important question . . . I need to go.”
“Hot date?”
“You found me out, Hunter. I’m cheating on you already.”
She was teasing, so why did the hair on his neck stand on end? “What’s his name?”