couldn’t deny she liked affecting him as strongly as he affected her. He bellowed then, his mouth buried in her neck, his lips mouthing words into her skin as his hips stuttered and he orgasmed. It only took her a second longer, pulsing around him as she rode out her own high.
Gabe collapsed into her, sweat dampening the skin of his back as she stroked up and down it, reassuring both him and herself.
And unlike this morning, not once did she ask herself, what have you done?
What have you done? Gabe asked himself, and why do you keep doing it?
He’d never intended to sleep with Jemma the night before. As the evening had worn on, it had become obvious that they were attracted to each other, they were in increasingly close proximity, alcohol was involved and the kind of music that would’ve made a priest think of sex—but he’d told himself firmly, absolutely , that he would not be fucking Nick’s assistant on her first night in Rio.
That was the best he was able to do. She was pretty—gorgeous, really—and easy to talk to. Funny and feisty and a bit like his mother’s cat, cautiously reaching out a paw to test the way the water felt, only to find itself jumping in despite the consequences of getting wet.
He could sense that hunger in her. A hunger to know and to do and to see. To travel. To understand the way the world worked. Nick had the same hunger, lean and mean in his eyes most of time. It was the hunger that had driven him to make that ill-advised foray into the unpacified favela . He had no intention of letting that same hunger override any common sense Jemma had about her safety.
It had seemed inevitable that they might eventually sleep together. They were here, thrown together, for the next three weeks. It would probably happen. But it didn’t have to happen right away. Unfortunately, he’d let her desire to experience everything Rio had to offer overwhelm all his good intentions.
She didn’t seem to understand that all his anger and frustration came from a place of good faith—she only seemed determined to drive him mad.
Gabe sank back into the bed, the condom disposed of, and offered her the cool, damp cloth in his hand. She took it this time with no blush, not even a hint of the embarrassment she’d shown last night. Or this morning, he corrected wryly. Because he’d come to realize that was almost certainly why she’d escaped this morning and ventured off alone. She’d been embarrassed.
He was a little embarrassed himself. He usually had a lot more self-control, but she shredded it with barely any effort. He didn’t like it, and he liked even less the possibility that she’d gotten to Colin O’Connor the same way.
She wiped herself and laid back down on the bed, a contemplative expression on her face. “Well,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t read her as easily as he wanted to. As soon as he thought he’d gotten a handle on what she was thinking, she did something completely different. He’d never expected her to kiss him again, not after he’d woken up to an empty bed this morning. But she’d done it and he’d been helpless to resist.
“I didn’t think we’d do that again,” she said, as if she could read his mind.
He laughed, even though he should have felt uneasy that she’d said exactly what he’d been thinking.
“Well,” he echoed her. “I didn’t really expect you.”
She laughed too. A quiet, private laugh. He couldn’t help but be charmed.
“I know you think it’s a ridiculous request. I know you think it’s unnecessary,” Gabe began again, because with her open and relaxed, he felt duty-bound to try again. To try to help her understand if something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. “But would it be so bad to hang out with me for the next few weeks? We can even go to all the rhythmic gymnastics you want.”
“Rhythmic gymnastics,” she pondered, rather than answer his request, “is that when they have the ball and
Gabe collapsed into her, sweat dampening the skin of his back as she stroked up and down it, reassuring both him and herself.
And unlike this morning, not once did she ask herself, what have you done?
What have you done? Gabe asked himself, and why do you keep doing it?
He’d never intended to sleep with Jemma the night before. As the evening had worn on, it had become obvious that they were attracted to each other, they were in increasingly close proximity, alcohol was involved and the kind of music that would’ve made a priest think of sex—but he’d told himself firmly, absolutely , that he would not be fucking Nick’s assistant on her first night in Rio.
That was the best he was able to do. She was pretty—gorgeous, really—and easy to talk to. Funny and feisty and a bit like his mother’s cat, cautiously reaching out a paw to test the way the water felt, only to find itself jumping in despite the consequences of getting wet.
He could sense that hunger in her. A hunger to know and to do and to see. To travel. To understand the way the world worked. Nick had the same hunger, lean and mean in his eyes most of time. It was the hunger that had driven him to make that ill-advised foray into the unpacified favela . He had no intention of letting that same hunger override any common sense Jemma had about her safety.
It had seemed inevitable that they might eventually sleep together. They were here, thrown together, for the next three weeks. It would probably happen. But it didn’t have to happen right away. Unfortunately, he’d let her desire to experience everything Rio had to offer overwhelm all his good intentions.
She didn’t seem to understand that all his anger and frustration came from a place of good faith—she only seemed determined to drive him mad.
Gabe sank back into the bed, the condom disposed of, and offered her the cool, damp cloth in his hand. She took it this time with no blush, not even a hint of the embarrassment she’d shown last night. Or this morning, he corrected wryly. Because he’d come to realize that was almost certainly why she’d escaped this morning and ventured off alone. She’d been embarrassed.
He was a little embarrassed himself. He usually had a lot more self-control, but she shredded it with barely any effort. He didn’t like it, and he liked even less the possibility that she’d gotten to Colin O’Connor the same way.
She wiped herself and laid back down on the bed, a contemplative expression on her face. “Well,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t read her as easily as he wanted to. As soon as he thought he’d gotten a handle on what she was thinking, she did something completely different. He’d never expected her to kiss him again, not after he’d woken up to an empty bed this morning. But she’d done it and he’d been helpless to resist.
“I didn’t think we’d do that again,” she said, as if she could read his mind.
He laughed, even though he should have felt uneasy that she’d said exactly what he’d been thinking.
“Well,” he echoed her. “I didn’t really expect you.”
She laughed too. A quiet, private laugh. He couldn’t help but be charmed.
“I know you think it’s a ridiculous request. I know you think it’s unnecessary,” Gabe began again, because with her open and relaxed, he felt duty-bound to try again. To try to help her understand if something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. “But would it be so bad to hang out with me for the next few weeks? We can even go to all the rhythmic gymnastics you want.”
“Rhythmic gymnastics,” she pondered, rather than answer his request, “is that when they have the ball and
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