Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
"Things?" I reach forward to brush my hand over her elbow. She stiffens slightly. "What things? I don't understand."
I see the plea in her eyes the second they meet mine. Her lips move faintly as if she's trying to find the right words. I study her face. It's so vulnerable. There's something there in her stunning blue eyes that needs to be said. It's right there, buried beneath a layer of pain.
"I need to understand what I've done." I lick my bottom lip. "I can see that I've upset you. Please, Isla, explain to me what it is."
She swallows so hard that the sound is audible in the stillness of the room. "I'm just…I'm really embarrassed, sir."
"Embarrassed?" I rake my hand through my hair. I knew I'd have to backpedal to make up for leaving in such a hurry but this is something more. I embarrassed her. I made her feel insignificant somehow.
"I asked you for things," she says in a shaky breath as she closes her eyes. "I'm sorry but I wanted those things so I asked for them. You didn't want them. I'm so humiliated."
I grab hold of her biceps and pull her into my chest, cradling her head in my hand. "Christ, Isla. No, don't think that."
She tries to pull back but I hold her tightly. "I just wanted so much."
My chest tightens with the words. She asked me to fuck her. She wanted to blow me. I turned it all down. I'd rejected her. That's the burden she's carrying. It's my rebuff.
"Isla." I wrench her back so I can look down at her face. "Beautiful, beautiful, Isla."
Her expression shifts slightly. "We don't have to talk about this. We can just forget last night. Sometimes things aren't meant to happen."
"We are meant to happen," I say the words without any hesitation. "I didn't handle myself well last night."
"I don't want you to say those things to me." She tugs herself free from my grasp and I let her. "You don't have to be kind to me. I'm not one of those girls who need that. I'm just not."
"Do you enjoy spending time with me?" I ask clearly and succinctly.
"That's not the point, Gabriel."
"It's the only point that matters, Isla. Answer the question. Do you enjoy spending time with me?"
"Yes," she spits back. "You know that I do."
I smile faintly at the concession. "Do you want to spend more time with me?"
Her mouth curves slightly. "That's a stupid question. I mean after the way I acted last night, why are you even asking me that?"
I cock a brow. "You'll learn very quickly, Isla that no question I ask is stupid. I have a reason for everything."
"What's the reason then?" The question is laced with challenge. "Tell me the reason why last night went the way it did."
I'm on her before she has a chance to respond, pushing her back, pinning her to the wall. Her breath catches as I push my body into hers.
"Look at me, Isla." I nudge her cheek with my jaw. "Look up now."
"Yes, sir." Her voice does nothing to hide her arousal as her eyes lock on mine.
I trace my lips across her cheek before I slide them over her mouth, pulling her into a deep, intense kiss. The low moan that flows from her mouth into mine sends a wave of heat right through me.
"One taste of you unraveled me, Isla," I growl into the soft skin of her neck. "I couldn’t fuck you there. That's not the place you belong."
"Where do I belong?" she asks in barely more than a whisper.
"In my bed. That is the only place you belong."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Isla
I'm reasonably sure when I walked out of the office with my lipstick smeared all over my mouth and Gabriel's, that Cicely finally clued in to what's been going on. If she hadn't, the hard-on that he was trying to mask beneath his carefully placed right hand would have given everything away.
He'd kissed me deeply after he told me that he wanted me in his bed. That's his actual bed and not the fuck pad one. As tempted as I was to ask him about that place and exactly how many other women have ordered room service breakfast, I didn’t. His past is his past and right now I'm his present. That's the only thing that matters to me.
"Are you and Mr. Foster boning?"
Boning? Is that an actual thing?
I keep hanging up the new robes that arrived today with the hope that Cicely will disappear right along with that question. Who even refers to it as boning?
"Isla, I asked you a question." She taps me on the shoulder. "I want to know about you and Mr. Foster."
I pivot on my heel to face her. I hadn't noticed that bright red headband she's wearing before now. It actually matches her dress perfectly. It does nothing to deter from the large fabric bow that is perched on her left shoulder.