Page 51 of Miss Manage

I shook my head to clear it and steeled my shoulders. “This wasn’t personal. This was business.”

He pushed the button to close the garage. The moment the door shut behind us, the air shifted.

“Bullshit. You haven’t liked John since day one.” His voice was clipped, laced with anger.

“You’re right. I haven’t. And I went against my better judgment in giving him another chance, but⁠—”

He cut me off. “You should’ve consulted with me before making such a rash decision.”

Something in me snapped. “Don’t you dare lecture me. I can take being called names. I can take being second-guessed in every room I walk into. I can even take having you think I made this personal. But I absolutely will not stand by while one of my people is humiliated. He called Olivia a stupid bitch because she accidently changed his flight to the wrong time, a task she shouldn’t have been asked to do. But of course, he felt entitled enough to demand she do it.” My voice sharpened, louder than I intended, echoing in the quiet garage. “And in case you’ve forgotten, acting or not, I’m your boss. I didn’t need to run anything by you.”

His eyes burned into mine, dark and steady. “Jesus, Charlotte. Did you think I’d defend him? I’d never condone that kind of behavior. From anyone.”

Despite his admission, the residual fight between us lingered in the air, sparking like static. He took one step closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body.

“Please tell me you believe me? That I would’ve backed you in this decision.”

“I wanted to, but wasn’t sure,” I whispered.

He leaned in, and suddenly his lips were on mine, taking, no, possessing me like a man starved. He wasn’t the only one desperate. I ached for his touch with a yearning I could hardly believe my body was capable of.

I always prided myself on control, but with Gabriel, I was hard-pressed to find a shred of it. He broke through the calm I’d built like armor, and in its place was raw, reckless want.

“Christ,” he muttered, gripping my ass and grinding against me. We were both wild for our clothing to come off and attacking it as if we’d found a mutual enemy.

I rocked my hips into him and gasped when he worked my skirt up to my waist before suddenly ripping my panties. My hands tangled with his belt, undoing it uncontrollably and freeing him, hot and heavy into my hand.

He wasted no time grabbing his wallet and extracting a condom from it. Tearing into it with his teeth, he sheathed himself in quick order. Next thing I knew, I was being pinned to the wall.

Our eyes locked, and he lifted my hips up, setting me down on the head of his erection.

“Fuck, Charlotte, I don’t want to hurt you. Are you sure⁠—?”

I didn’t let him finish, instead kissing him with everything I had. All of the pent-up frustration from the day culminating in this moment.

He shifted me slightly before driving home.

I arched back, stretching as his full length buried deep inside of me, loving the sound of my name on his lips. We were frantic with our hands and mouths. There was something about taking Gabriel out of his control zone that fueled me.

He moved against me with a steady, consuming rhythm leaving no room for thought, only sensation. His mouth traced fire along my skin, and my nails found his back, desperate to keep him close, to anchor myself to the moment spiraling out of control.

When his hand slipped between us and rubbed my clit, he sent me completely over the edge. His pace increased, and on one last thrust, I could feel his orgasm ripping through him.

Time stood still with the only soundtrack our heavy breathing. He withdrew slowly and set me down on my feet but didn’t let go until I was steady.

Then he made quick work out of tucking himself back into his trousers while I fixed my skirt. I was reeling from having sex in my garage like we were two teenagers unable to keep our hands off each other.

He offered his hand. “Come on.”

He led me inside, peering around for a moment.

“The bathroom is that door, there.”

“Thanks. How about I order some pizza?” Gabriel’s voice was softer now, coaxing instead of commanding. He lifted my wrist and brushed his mouth against the inside of it, a gesture so unexpectedly tender it stole the air from my lungs. “You go change. Breathe. We’ll have dinner and talk. Okay?”

I swallowed, my pulse tripping over itself where his lips had touched. Every part of me screamed to keep my distance and remember the competition and the thousand ways this could explode in my face. This was reckless.

But there was hope blooming in my chest that perhaps he needed this connection as much as I was coming to need it.

“Okay,” I relented, my voice hushed. “Pizza sounds good.”

He didn’t argue. He simply released my hand, his thumb lingering for one last second against my skin before he stepped back.

Upstairs, I stripped out of the clothes still smelling faintly of him, trading them for the soft cotton of yoga pants and a loose sweater. I braced my hands on the bathroom counter and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My skin was flushed, my hair a tangle from where he’d buried his fingers in it. I would be able to tame my hair easier than I could tame my emotions.

My head tilted toward the sounds downstairs of a man who was making himself at home, probably ordering pizza like he promised. And I didn’t hate it.

Then came the sound of the front door opening. My heart lurched, and I froze halfway through applying lotion to my hands. Adrenaline flooded me all over again.

That couldn’t be the delivery guy so quickly.

“Austin,” I breathed, panic flaring up. I scrambled to smooth myself into something resembling composed. I could manage a lot of things, but my son catching Gabriel in my kitchen with his shirt half tucked into his dress slacks…I couldn’t deal.