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Yet now as I stepped slowly down this grim hallway, I felt the enveloping warmth of his enormous hand. His fingers were long and thick, his palm slightly calloused. I wanted it wrapped around more than just my small hand. Unfortunately, that led me to the funny thoughts about all those women who insisted you could tell the size of a man's cock by examining his hands, and now I knew they were right.
I bit back a snicker and his hand tightened on mine. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing."
He turned to frown at me, his gaze disapproving as always.
But suddenly the floor dipped down a ramp and we were looped into a wardrobe style room. Wood shelves were attached to the walls, rods between them with bright vermilion robes hanging down. Based on the number of empty hangers, many of the robes were missing.
I frowned. "What in the Eyes Wide Shut is going on here?"
"No fucking clue. What is this shit?"
The Wheelman house had been built on the outskirts of West London by James and Frida Wheelman as a location for them to host their benefit galas and other charitable events. But by and large, most of the time, it wasn't even in use. It had lots of offices for charity work, but no one lived there.
The longer we looked around, we realized we were in some kind of anti-chamber. Over to the right, we heard some kind of chanting. A song?
Our gazes locked and we shrugged at each other as we inched forward toward an open archway that led into what looked like a cavern. No, it was more like a wine cellar. It seemed as If part of the building was older and somehow the temperature dropped.
We could see several people shrouded in robes. I couldn't tell if any of them were men, or women, or what. However, in the center, I could clearly see a middle-aged man, lying fully naked in a bed with his gut paunch hanging down over a very small dick.
I shuddered at the sight. Gabe cut me another glance, and I shrugged as if to say, What?
The people standing around the bed started swaying back and forth, chanting louder. Then two young women came out. In their twenties, maybe. They were naked as well, and completely hairless except for their heads. One was a redhead, the other one a blonde. They climbed up on the bed and started to touch him, writhing all over his body.
Gabe looked at me curiously, and I whispered, "Why do you think I know what the hell is going on?"
But before either one of us could say anything more, we heard voices distantly behind us, and we panicked.
"Tabs, do you see another way out? Another doorway?"
I hooked my hand back toward the way we’d come, as I remembered seeing one next to the robes. I led the way back, and the voices were getting closer.
I found the door. But when I opened it, it led to another closet, this one with several more of the dark red robes. I dragged Gabe into the small space with me.
We could hear the voices drawing nearer, and looking up at Gabe, I bit my lip. "We're going to get caught."
"What the fuck is going on here?" Gabe mumbled as he grabbed one of the robes, threw it around my shoulders, brought the hood up, and tied it around my neck. When I opened my mouth to say something, he placed a finger over my lips and shook his head. He grabbed another one and threw it on himself, and we were both completely shrouded.
The voices were closer now. So close. What the hell were we going to say?
He kept one hand on his weapon, and I shook my head. A single shot was going to bring unwanted visitors. We would have no answers as to what the underground party was and we'd be nowhere near bringing in Disick.
When the doorknob started to twist, my heart jumped against my ribs, hammering, begging for freedom, as if it was going to make its escape whether the rest of my body could follow or not.
As the door started to creak open, knowing we were up against a wall, I acted on instinct, grabbing Gabe by his robe. I yanked him down, pushed us close together, and in one bold move I crashed my lips onto his.
5
Gabe
Shut together in that confined wardrobe, my whole world shifted in a moment. All sense of control and order melted away, and my body was a raging fire of passion and need, burning like an unholy flame.
Tabatha's sassy wit and delectable, smart mouth tugged at something deep inside me. She was my sister's best friend, and I was her commander.
Touching her was never, ever an option. But in a split second, the control I'd held onto from the moment I’d seen her flouncing around her university campus finally snapped, the floodgates bursting the moment she joined her lips to mine.
Was this the first time I’d yielded to my emotions since my parents died? Since I'd left MI5? I couldn't remember. All that mattered was the intense, consuming, all-encompassing craving for Tabatha that only grew stronger with each second. I wanted to devour her until my hunger was sated. If it ever could be sated.
