Page 13 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

“Would you like coffee, Gabrielle?”

She glanced at his face. “Call me Gabby.” He didn’t want to. It seemed one more step away from the woman he’d known. But maybe that was a good thing. “And no, I’m fine, thank you.”

He thought about grabbing a shirt, but the truth was, he liked the way she looked at him. She kept sending him discreet little glances when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

“Will you get rid of everything your grandfather left you?” Gabrielle asked.

“I’ll keep the personal stuff, including the villa on Sicily and the yacht. I have good memories of them. They were his real home.”

“I’m glad. It was clear you loved the place.”

He perched on the edge of the mahogany dining table while she wandered around the suite, touching things, peering out of the window, running her hands along the crimson brocade of the sofa, peeking into the bedroom. “Sorry I woke you.” She glanced back at him and then to the bed, a flush staining her cheeks as if she were imagining the two of them there, just as he’d been doing when she’d interrupted him. At the memory, and the knowledge that she was here in reality now, the blood pooled in his groin, and he had to bite back a groan.

“You didn’t.” Fuck it. Why should she be let off so easily? And suddenly, he didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to hear her reasons for leaving him all those months ago. “You did disturb me, though.”

“I did?”

“Si.I was deep in this fantasy where your mouth was on my cock.”

Her gaze flew to his face and then dropped to the bulge in his pants, her eyes widening. “Oh.” Her eyelids lowered so he couldn’t see her thoughts, but her lips were slightly parted, and her breasts rose and fell with each breath, a pulse throbbing at her throat.

The air was charged with sexual tension. She wanted him. Again.

How had he not noticed before? Or had there been nothing to notice? And if so, why now?

His gaze fixed on the ruby in her navel, and he took slow, deep breaths.

Then again why not?

He straightened from the table, and she took an involuntary step back. “You were my fantasy bride.”

Some expression crossed her face, fleeting and gone. Bitterness, perhaps. “And now you’re looking for a fantasy blow job?”

She was so up front. He couldn’t even imagine Gabrielle saying those words, but the truth was, he liked it. Fucking loved it. “Actually, I’d prefer a real one.”

A little voice muttered in the back of his mind that they were supposed to be talking. He shut it down because she was actually considering the blow job—he could see it in her expression. His mouth went dry and the tension in the room ratcheted higher.

“Would you really?” she murmured, her gaze dropping down over his body.

“Si, cara mia. And afterward, I’ll return the favor.” An image flashed in his mind of his head between those slender thighs.

He’d never gone in for casual, uncomplicated sex before, never had a one-night stand. But then this was far from casual or uncomplicated. And whatever the hell happened next, whatever she told him, or even if she walked away again and never looked back, he wanted those luscious pink lips around his cock just once.

Did that make him shallow?

Right now he didn’t give a fuck.

Right now his dick was hard as rock and pushing against his zipper almost painfully. He held his breath as she took a slow step closer, her hand reaching out until her palm lay flat against his chest.

“So hot,” she murmured.

He was burning up.

Sliding her hand down over his stomach, she hesitated as she hit the waistband of his pants, then pushed inside. “And so hard.”

He would have replied, but he’d lost the ability to speak, could do no more than stand there, head back, sweat beading on his forehead as her other hand slowly lowered his zipper, her movements sure and unhurried.

It occurred to him, briefly, that she was the one in charge here. But he didn’t want to think.

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