Page 76 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

“Try again.” Hank’s lips twitch. “After that.”

“Oh… you mean the part about being more than a victim?” I flutter my lashes, biting back a smirk.

“You know damn well which part,” Gabe mutters, but there’s a glint in his eyes now—sharp, dark, interested.

“I’m sure I don’t.”.

Behind me, Hank lets out a low laugh, the sound rich and unbothered. “Luv,” he says, shouldering his bag, “I believe the term ‘insatiable’ is… generous.”

“I don’t know,” I toss over my shoulder. “Pretty sure someone in this room has a fantasy about full-time ownership.”

Gabe’s silence is electric. Heavy.

Then—quietly—he says, “Careful, Ally.”

Gabe doesn’t laugh.

Doesn’t smirk.

Doesn’t move.

The air changes, crackling like a live wire in the silence he leaves behind. Hank senses it. He glances between us, then quietly grabs his bag and gives me a subtle nod before stepping out, leaving the two of us alone in the echo of that moment.

Gabe watches me. Still. Steady. Like I’m a problem he wants to solve with his hands.

“I’m serious, sweetheart.” His voice is low. Gravel and warning. “Don’t play with words like that. Not with me.”

I cross my arms. “I wasn’t playing.”

He closes the space between us—slow, deliberate. No contact, but I can feel the heat coming off him. The restraint. The danger just beneath.

“You think it’s a game,” he says, his gaze locked on mine. A muscle jumps in his jaw. “I don’t play. Not with that.”

Something tightens in my chest.

“There’s a part of me,” he says slowly, “that’s darker than you’ve seen. That wants things from a woman most men would never admit to wanting. And if I ever let it out—really let it out—it wouldn’t be gentle. Or patient. Or safe.”

My breath catches.

“So don’t tease me.” His voice drops an octave. “You’re poking a sleeping beast, sweetheart, and you have no idea what he’ll do if you wake him.”

He’s close enough now that I can see the storm behind his eyes. Not just lust. Not just dominance.

Need.

The kind that consumes. The kind that ruins.

I should be afraid. I should. But I’m not.

Not of him.

“Then, I’ll be very careful.”

The words feel weightier than I expect once they’re out in the open.

Gabe doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve just tipped us into something we can’t come back from.

But then he exhales—slow and quiet, like he’s banking a fire that came too close to breaking loose.

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