Definitely a plea.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against my skin.
What do I want?
Everything. I want everything.
I want his hands everywhere. I want his mouth everywhere. I want...
“I—” I started, but my brain had completely short-circuited.
He pulled back to look at me, his hands stilling. “Cate?”
“I want—” I tried again, my face burning. “I want you to—to keep doing that. What you were doing. With your—with your hands.”
Oh my God, I sound like I’m twelve.
“With your hands.” Really? That’s what we’re going with?
But Gabriel’s eyes darkened even more, and his mouth curved into something that was definitely not a smile.
It was predatory.
Possessive.
Absolutely devastating.
“Like this?” he asked, his thumbs stroking again, and I whimpered.
“Yes,” I gasped. “Exactly like that. Please don’t stop.”
“I’m not going to stop,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’m going to touch every inch of you.”
Oh my God.
Oh my God, I’m going to combust.
Spontaneous human combustion is real, and it’s happening right now in Gabriel Lyon’s bedroom.
His hands moved to the hem of my shirt, and he paused, his eyes meeting mine.
“Can I?” he asked.
He’s asking permission.
Gabriel Lyon—confident, controlled Gabriel Lyon—is asking permission.
That’s—That’s...
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He pulled my shirt over my head in one smooth motion, and suddenly I was standing in his bedroom in just my bra and jeans.
Oh God.
Oh God, he’s looking at me.
He’s actually looking at me and I’m—I should have worn better underwear. Why didn’t I wear better underwear? Thisis the most boring bra in the history of bras. It’s beige. BEIGE. Who wears beige underwear? Okay, to be fair, I didn’t know this was going to happen. I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t...
