“I’m not a hero, Gabi. Nowhere close.”
“No,” she agreed. “You’re not a saint. Your tactics are ruthless, tasteless, and seemingly without conscience. You’re impatient, greedy, and egotistical.”
He frowned.
“You’re cynical, downright nasty—”
He placed a hand to his chest. “You’re killing me.”
“I’m not done!” She batted his hand away from his chest and smiled. “You’re driven, which isn’t a bad thing. You’re influential and a little brilliant. I mean, c’mon . . . how many men at thirty-six make the Forbes billionaire bachelor list without family money?”
Some of his frown lifted.
“You fear honesty, but who doesn’t? It’s hard to reveal truths about yourself when you don’t know if the person you’re talking to is going to use it against you. It’s hard to trust when your own twin is screwing you over.”
He lifted a hand to her shoulder and held on. “I’m not—”
“I’m not finished.”
He sighed with a smile.
“You’re sexy, and the women in your life would have been fools to not try and capture whatever attention they could from you.”
Yeah, he was working out the muscles in his face with his grin.
“You’ve probably broken hearts from LA to New York to Europe. God help you if more than one woman arrives with a child in their hands that you can’t avoid.”
“I’ve always been safe.”
Gabi placed a finger over his lips, silencing him.
“And while you’re impatient with many mergers and acquisitions . . . and marriages . . . you’ve shown amazing restraint with your nephew and your wife.” She paused, her smile faded. “And that . . . Hunter Hayden Blackwell . . . is what is placing your feet on the road to hero.”
His hand gripped her shoulder. The trust in her eyes too powerful for words. “My restraint for you is a tightly strung string on a violin. One stroke and it’s going to snap.”
Her delicate fingers rode up his chest and wove around his neck. “God, I hope so.” She brought his head closer to hers, and kissed him.
The Stradivarius shattered.
Chapter Twenty
He was stunned, Gabi felt it in his kiss.
His hesitation lasted only a fraction of a second before he wrapped her into his strong arms and threw his weight into the meeting of their lips. So many sensations hit her at once. He tasted like whiskey, smelled like sin, and kissed her like a devil guaranteed to break her heart. There was no letting go, however. After lying dormant for so long, having a man as powerful as Hunter Blackwell devouring her wasn’t something she wanted to resist.
Not any longer.
She opened to the swipe of his tongue and lifted on her tiptoes to taste. There were no careful, languishing movements . . . both of them were much too anxious to feel the next zip of pleasure. Hunter ran a hand down the length of her back and back up to catch in her hair.
He released her lips to say, “Let this down. I want to see you with it down.”
She opened her eyes to see his hooded gaze.
With both hands, she released the clip and comb holding her hair. It cascaded over her shoulders in a wave.
Hunter growled and pushed both hands into it, his eyes focused on his own hands as they ran through the silky length. With both hands holding her face, he finally met her eyes. “I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you.”
She didn’t have time to respond, not that she knew what to say after his confession. He dragged his lips across hers in what felt like desperation.
When Gabi let one hand fall to his hip, the other to his ass, Hunter pressed her against the massive window and gathered her hands in his. He lifted them above her head and leaned into her, from shoulder to knee. It was as if he was controlling his own ability to slow this down by keeping her from touching him.
It was frustrating, and erotic.
Though they were both still fully clothed, the extent of his desire pressed low on her belly, close, but not close enough.
Hunter continued kissing her, hot, urgent kisses that left her utterly breathless.
With her hands inoperable, Gabi ran one leg up his.
He tore his lips away. “If you keep touching me, I’m going to make love to you right here, with all of Dallas watching.”
She swiveled her head and attempted to catch the lights behind her. She wasn’t quite ready for that leap into exhibitionism. “Then I suggest we find a proper bed.”
One of his hands loosened on hers and his free palm held her cheek. “Are you sure, Gabriella?”
Is there any question?
He was giving her an out . . . an out she no longer wanted.
“Your bed, or mine?” she asked with a smile.