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“S-stop sh-shocking m-m-me!” Gabriel grunted through chattering teeth.
“Sorry,” I said, pulling the stun gun away to let it cool off.
“Why do you have a stun gun?” he demanded, hefting himself off the ground.
“Because people have been sneaking up behind me,” I said, glaring at him. “Honestly, why would you surprise the most spastic person you know?”
“I knew you’d do something to avoid talking to me if you saw me coming,” he said, dusting himself off. “And what do you mean, people keep sneaking up behind you? Are you all right? Has someone been bothering you?”
“Yes, you. When you know someone will try to evade you if you try to talk to them, that’s called a hint. You need to learn to interpret social cues. And sarcasm, but that’s not exactly urgent to the situation at hand. Why are you here? I haven’t heard from you for weeks, and you show up now? What do you want, Gabriel?”
“I miss you,” he admitted.
Despite the tiny crack that made in the hard cement shell I’d built around my heart, I kept my teeth gritted together, my tone flat and unaffected. “How sad for you.”
“I miss you,” he said again, backing me against the shop door. The cold of the glass and the remaining images of that horrible Victorian corpse dream were the only weapons I had to battle against the smoky comfort of his scent, the weight of his hands on my arms.
I pushed him back, without any real heat. “That’s not really my problem. And you don’t miss me, you’re checking up on me because you don’t trust me to take care of myself.”
“I miss you. I miss your laugh and your voice, and I even miss your insults.” He smiled, wistful, tracing the lines of my fingers with his own, up my arm to stroke the edge of my collarbone.
“Look, about opening night,” I told him. “You said some really hurtful things.”
“So did you,” he countered.
“Well, you’re way better at them.”
“We can talk later. Right now, please, just admit it, you miss me,” he said, pressing me to the glass again, using exactly the right parts to do the pressing. I didn’t answer. Because, frankly, I was doing very well to stay upright and clothed at this point. Bastard.
As his mouth pressed ever so softly against mine, I forced my lips shut to keep from shouting that yes, I missed him. Yes, having his hands on me made me feel more settled than I had in weeks. Yes, his grinding me against the door was absolute heaven, and if he did it slightly to the left, it would mean the end of a disturbingly long waking-orgasm dry spell. Fortunately, Gabriel started biting my lips, which limited my speaking options even further.
Gabriel’s fingers stroked up my throat, trailing the tips along my jaw and into my hair. He ground his mouth down on mine, drinking in my groans as I pulled blindly at his lapels.
This was just not fair.
“Tell me,” he demanded between kisses. “Tell me you miss me.”
I bit my lip. His brows drew together as I felt him slide what I called my “sensible shopkeeper” skirt over my hips. His fingers slid over my panties, drawing little circles against my skin through the damp material. His hand glided over my thighs, to peel away my panties. He tucked them in his pocket.
“Tell me,” he said again, pumping one and then two fingers inside me with aching slowness.
My head slid back against the glass as my vision seemed to blur. Gah! He wasn’t letting me think. If I was about anything, it was the thinking. His thumb glided over my oversensitive flesh, then plucked it like a guitar string, sending a thrumming wave along my nerve endings. I whimpered.
“You can lie to me, Jane, but your body can’t. I can feel how much you’ve missed me, how much you want me right now.” Keeping my eyes locked with his own, he brought his fingers to his lips and tasted me. He smiled. “Just as much as I want you.”
My jaw dropped as I watched him lick his fingers clean. Screw thinking.
“I miss you,” I whispered, hating myself as I felt his lips curve against my neck. I slid my hand between us and fumbled with Gabriel’s belt buckle. Gabriel’s own hand slipped along my rib cage, cupping my breast. He bent his head to press teasing little kisses over the thin fabric of my blouse before closing his mouth over my nipple.
I dropped my bag so I could slip my hands around Gabriel’s neck and pull him closer. The contents spilled around his feet as he cupped his hands under my butt and hitched me higher. His kiss was the center of my universe. Without it, I would go spinning off course into the dark, seeing nothing, feeling nothing.
Through the haze in my head, I heard the faint slide of a zipper and locked my legs around his hips, crossing my ankles at the small of his back.
I grabbed the lowest rung of the fire-escape ladder for leverage as I began the long, slow slide onto him. I threw my head back, gasping, and nearly came right there. I let go of the ladder and twisted my hands in Gabriel’s hair, yanking his head back, claiming his mouth with lips, fangs, and tongue. This was mine. He was mine.
I clutched at his shoulders, arching my hips in time with his. A stream of promises, profanities, and pleas poured from Gabriel’s mouth against my skin. I cupped the back of his head, cradling his face against mine. I closed my eyes, inhaled his scent, and smiled, even when his fangs extended and scraped lightly across my collarbone.
If he kept doing that, keeping his mouth in sync with his movements—
