Charlotte was still trying to process the words when he shifted them both. He was still behind her, but she now faced the other side of the room and the full-length, freestanding mirror that stood beside the vanity. In that mirror was an image of a blond woman who had a big male hand at her throat, another on her breast; those hands with their blunt tips and square nails were hands she knew, the eyes that held hers a familiar steel gray.
"Gabriel," she said on a rush of air.
"I like my name on your lips." He moved his hand in a petting motion but didn't take it off her throat. With his other one, he continued to mold and shape her breast, tugging at the nipple that pushed at her dress through the lace of her bra. "My pretty Charlotte," he said, each word spaced out with a kiss on her jaw, her cheek, her throat. "You have no idea the ways in which I want to fuck you."
She jerked at the harsh word, but her thighs clenched at the same time.
"I used to dream about bending you over my desk, shoving up those ugly skirts you used to wear, pulling down your panties, and using my hand to push you to orgasm before I drove my cock into you."
All she could hear was his voice, all she could feel was him, the images he painted flashing on her retinas. "Th...that's--"
"Inappropriate, I know." More kisses. "But a man can be inappropriate in his mind, especially when his balls are turning blue." Another kiss, this one on her nape.
It wasn't, she realized, the first one. He'd distracted her with his words, seduced her with his mouth, was teaching her body that a touch from him in that place wouldn't mean pain and humiliation. "Gabriel." She moved restlessly. "Let me take off my dress."
He tightened his grip on her throat the slightest fraction. "No."
Her breath sped up, her heart rate rocketing as her chest squeezed in panic.
"Shh." Easing his grip, he kept kissing her. "We're just playing, Charlotte."
Playing.
It was such an unthreatening word that it cut through the grip of fear. "Playing," she whispered.
"Yes." He reached across to torment her neglected breast. "Pull up your dress."
Mouth dry, she did as he asked, to reveal panties of black lace. She'd bought three different lingerie sets, all in his favorite shade on her flesh.
He traced the waistband of her panties with a single finger, brushing over the tiny pink rosette in the center. "Is this for me?" A pleased sound against her ear. At her nod, he said, "Such good behavior deserves a reward, don't you think?"
"Yes."
Chuckling, he used his hand on her throat to urge her to bend her head back toward him. The instant she did, he kissed her. The position left her intensely vulnerable and yet feeling intensely protected. Breaking the kiss after a long, deep taste, Gabriel allowed her to straighten. "Keep holding up your dress."
Charlotte's fingers tightened on the fabric as he slid his free hand into her panties. A whimper escaped her; that got her kissed once more in that painfully vulnerable position as he touched her with possessive confidence, tugging at her clit, stroking through her folds, thrusting a finger, then two, into her body.
"Come for me, Ms. Baird."
The low, deep, rough order sent an electric surge through her body. Gasping, she tried to fight the rising edge of need, but it was coming too fast, too hard, Gabriel's sinful fingers playing her body like a favored instrument. Pleasure arched her spine hard enough to snap, and through it all, Gabriel kept his hand on her throat, his grip gentle but firm.
She shuddered into boneless limpness afterward, held upright by his body and by the hand he'd kept between her thighs. Cupping her damp heat, he kissed her nape again, licking over the spot before saying, "On the bed." When he removed his hands from her, she would've stumbled to the bed, but he took her hips and nudged her out the door.
"My bed. That's where you belong."
She thought maybe she should protest his high-handedness, but since she wanted to be in Gabriel's bed anyway, that particular idea stood no chance of success. Her knees were so weak she didn't know how she made it to the master bedroom. Climbing onto the sprawling bed, she would've turned over onto her back but he said, "Stay there."
Her stomach knotted, the pleasure of a few moments ago buried under increasing strain. "I don't know if I can take your weight," she said, his earlier statement stark in her mind: she would not hurt Gabriel by freaking out. Better to warn him in advance.
"Why are you always trying to rush?" The bed dipped. "That's graduate level, and we're at the freshmen stage." A tug on her dress told her he was pulling down the zipper. "Now you can turn."
When she did, he slid her dress off her shoulders and down her body to strip it off. Coming down beside her, he braced himself on one arm and stroked his hand from her chest down to the tops of her thighs. His skin was a little rough, his palm big enough to easily span her breastbone. It felt good, but...
Gripping his wrist, she brought his hand to her throat. "There too."
His eyes darkened as he curved his hand around her throat once more.
It made her rub her feet against the sheets, her blood hot with nervous arousal. Those nerves sizzled under his kiss. He thrust his tongue deep, moving his hand back down her body only to return to collar her throat in a more aggressive hold.
"Okay?" His lips brushed her own.
She arched into him in a silent yes, her hands buried in his hair. Kiss even deeper, he came over her, using one forearm to brace himself so his weight wouldn't crush her. For a second, Charlotte thought she'd be all right, that they'd figured it out, then black spots danced in her vision, claustrophobia choking her until she couldn't even tell him to get off.
34
Gabriel and his Ms. Baird
Gabriel felt Charlotte's body go motionless underneath him. Her breathing told him that this time it wasn't the incipient panic he'd sensed in her earlier. This was the real deal, a full-blown panic attack.
Shifting immediately to his back, he pulled her on top of him. "Charlotte." Chancing a light grip on her chin while leaving her otherwise free, he held her gaze.
Her eyes were dangerously blank.
"Charlotte, it's Gabriel." His heart twisted inside his chest, his anger at what had been done to her as violent as his need to protect her. "The man who wants to love you every possible way there is on this earth, but who will never hurt you."
No response.
He repeated his name, reminded her that they were just playing, trying to figure out what worked for them. "Come on back, Ms. Baird. It's no fun playing solo when I can do it with you."
"Gabriel." A whisper so husky he could barely hear it, but it was there: his name on the kiss-swollen plumpness of her lips. "Gabriel." Shuddering, she collapsed against him like a frightened kitten.
The wet he felt against his neck the next second threatened to break him. "Why are you crying?" he growled, almost curving his hand over her nape before he remembered that was a danger zone.
Instead, he shifted her onto her back again and, staying on his side, collared her throat. "Quiet."
Jerky sniffs, one hand lifting to wipe away her tears. "Sorry."
"You can cry whenever you want," he said. "But you damn well don't do it because you're beating yourself up. Understood?"
Her eyes glittered. "I told myself I was done with the memories, done with fear." As much anger and frustration as self-directed disappointment rippled through her words. "But my brain won't listen!"
"Charlotte." She drove him crazy. "You have my fucking hand at your throat." Tightening his grip to make his point, he kissed her, used his teeth, his tongue, until she moaned and kissed him back as hotly. "How exactly," he said when they came up for air, "do you think you messed up?"
Tiny vertical lines formed between her eyebrows. "Stop snarling at me," she said, lifting one hand to fist it in his hair.
"I'll stop when you begin to listen to reason." He moved the hand on her throat down to her stomach, caressing her as he kissed her again. Her ribcag
e was so delicate under his touch, her breasts exquisite through the fine lace of her bra. "We're not going to do everything in one night, and what the hell fun would there be in that anyway?"
Making an aggravated sound in her throat, she pulled at his hair. "I said stop snarling at me."
"You have a temper, Ms. Baird."
A scowl. "I have to, with you around." Shoving at his chest, she pushed him to his back. "I want to do things to you now."
His cock, already rock hard, jerked to attention. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
She straddled him low on his thighs, the view a gorgeous one, especially since her hair had started to come out of that bun. When her hands went to his buckle, he sucked in a breath. Her teeth sinking into her lower lip in sexy concentration, she undid the belt and stripped it off to throw it on the floor, clever fingers on the fastenings of his pants.
He cooperated when she moved down his body, taking his pants and underwear with her. Dumping his clothing on the floor, she straddled his thighs again, her eyes on the hard length of his cock.
"I don't know how this gets inside me," she murmured, capturing him in her small, competent hands.
He groaned.
A small, wicked, slightly shy smile on her face, Charlotte began to jerk him off. His eyes closed, his hips rising toward her. He wasn't the least prepared to feel the hot wet of her mouth close over the head of his cock.
"Fuck!" He had his hand on her nape before he could stop himself, his actions instinctive.
Tearing it away when she went stiff, he groaned and fell back on the bed with his arms thrown wide. "Well, fuck. Now you're not going to suck me off, are you?"
Muscles easing to softness again, Charlotte sat up, stared at him. Her pulse was erratic in her throat but her lips, they held that tiny, wicked smile. "That's all you're worried about?"
"Charlotte, when you have your mouth anywhere near my cock, my brain cells turn into gibbering idiots."
She laughed, ran her nails down his chest. "You have to behave." A playful statement, but there were shadows in her eyes.
"I will," he promised. There would come a day when he could fist his hand in her hair, direct her to do exactly what he wanted, but she'd already gone far beyond what either one of them could've expected.
So he lay there and took it, and fuck, it was good.
Charlotte kept blushing as she stood on the sidelines with Gabriel early the next day. A cold Saturday morning, and the high school team he coached was playing its heart out. Then she blushed through her eleven-o'clock pastry class, causing her new friends Juliet and Aroha to teasingly question her about her Friday night.
That just made her blush deepen. She couldn't believe what she'd done with and to Gabriel. Not only had she taken him in her mouth, he'd then hauled her to the end of the bed and returned the favor with interest, one of his hands tight on her breast, her thigh thrown over a heavily muscled shoulder.
God, the man could be deliciously merciless when he had a goal in mind.
"One more time, Ms. Baird."
The memory of his roughly coaxing words vivid in her thoughts, she certainly couldn't look his parents in the eye when she and Gabriel joined the entire Bishop-Esera clan for an afternoon barbeque at a local park.
Full of tall trees, including cheerful cherry blossom trees that had anticipated the coming spring, the park, located at the foot of a dormant volcano like so many of Auckland's parks, also had plenty of open space.
The barbeque was in honor of Joseph's birthday, and Charlotte had bought him a DVD of great rugby moments that she hoped he liked. Before any presents were opened or food eaten, however, there was to be a "friendly" rugby game. It was why she'd worn a pair of jeans and a light sweater over a T-shirt, rather than a dress. Though she had her doubts about her skills on the field, no "shirking" was allowed.
"Game's a tradition," Gabriel had said, placing a hard kiss on her mouth. "Everyone plays except the one who's refereeing. We occasionally excuse pregnant women and those with broken limbs, but that's on a case-by-case basis."
Now he stood with the oval-shaped ball under one arm, his other one slung loosely over Charlotte's shoulders. "Where the hell is Sailor?"
Looking around, Charlotte saw that Sailor's wife and daughter, Isa and Emmaline, were already here.
It was Alison who answered Gabriel's question. "I asked him to bring Brian. They should be here soon."
Charlotte expected Gabriel to lose his good mood at the mention of his father, but he just shook his head. "Don't let him scam you, Mom, okay?"
Alison smiled, expression poignant. "I've learned that lesson well--but for better or worse, he did help give two of my boys life." She came over to hug Gabriel. "Two wonderful boys who have hearts big enough to let him in even after what he did."
Squeezing his mom, Gabriel said, "Those hearts come from you."
Charlotte spoke only once Alison was out of earshot. "You're a good man, Gabriel Bishop."
A shrug, but he smiled. "I'm a better man because of you." Kissing her to the accompaniment of giggles from Esme and Emmaline, he said, "You were right about the anger eating me up. It was poisonous."
Sailor arrived then with Brian. Gabriel helped get the frail-appearing older man settled into a chair, a blanket over his lap, then put two fingers just inside his mouth and whistled. "On the field. Brian's refereeing."
Everyone tumbled out onto the open playing area. When Charlotte hesitated, Daniel, whom she'd met properly earlier, grabbed her hand and tugged her forward. "We're playing touch, no tackling. Esme, show everyone an example touch."
The little girl ran to Emmaline and tapped her cousin on the hips with both palms before breaking contact. "No holding, Uncle Danny," she said seriously. "Just touching."
"Jeez, Boo, I only did that once."
Biting back a laugh at Daniel's aggrieved tone, Charlotte listened as Gabriel said, "Normal rules. Pass before you're touched, six touches to score or ball has to be turned over, no forward passes. Did I forget anything?"
Emmaline jumped up and down. "You gotta tap to start again."
"Right." Tugging one of her pigtails, Gabriel demonstrated the tap.
Alison was the one who split them into two teams, dividing the couples. "A little healthy competition," she said with a wink.
Charlotte ended up on the team that got to wear pink armbands. Also on her team were Sailor, Esme, Daniel, and Alison.
"I'm the slowest," Alison said, "and Danny's got wings on his feet, so we even out."
"You've also got me," Charlotte pointed out. "I love rugby, but I'm not a player."
"Give us a few years and you will be," Sailor predicted. "Always pass to Esme if you can--the munchkin's slippery when she gets going."
"Here we go," Gabriel called out and the game began.
The first time Danny passed the ball back to Charlotte, she dropped it forward, leading to it being turned over to the opposing side.
Esme patted her hand. "It's okay, Charlie. I do that sometimes too."
"Hey, less talking, more playing, Butterfingers!" Gabriel called out.
Charlotte narrowed her eyes at the grinning taunt. "You're going down, T-Rex!"
He winked at her and, tapping the ball with his foot to restart the game, spun it back into Jake's steady hands. From there it went to Joseph, then to Emmaline, who pumped halfway down the field before yelling, "Mommy!" and passing to Isa right before Alison tapped her.
Isa would've made it over the try line if her husband hadn't gotten his hands on her.
"Sorry, honey," Sailor said, stealing a kiss, "this is war."
"Watch it, mister." Expression fierce, Isa restarted the game, but a series of touches by the pink team meant they regained possession of the ball.
Charlotte caught the pass this time, got it to Esme, who was a tiny rocket. She passed to Sailor, who threw to Danny, who sent it back to Charlotte again, their team moving across and up the field. Able to see the try line, Charlotte ra
n her hardest. She was almost there when strong arms lifted her off her feet.
"Uncle Gabe is cheating!" Esme cried out while Charlotte tried not to laugh.
"Here!" She threw the ball down into the little girl's hands.
Face gleeful, Esme grounded the ball on the other side of the try line just as Gabriel finally let Charlotte down. "I thought this game had rules," she said to him.
He kissed her. "Most of the time."
They played for another twenty minutes, Emmaline scoring for the other side when Gabriel fed her the ball right on the try line.
All other try attempts were foiled by quick, legal touches, or very illegal body blocking--or in one case, by Sailor throwing Isa over his shoulder and running off toward the trees.
"I don't think I've ever laughed so hard," Charlotte said afterward, having collapsed on the grass to soak up the sun, Gabriel on one side and Danny on the other. She really liked Gabriel's youngest brother. Despite the fact he was starting to build up a serious profile, with all the attendant media and female attention, he was a genuine sweetheart. She hoped he never lost that gentleness of nature.
"I love playing for my team," he said right then, "but these are my favorite games. I reckon Esme's got what it takes to make a rep team."
"She's good," agreed Gabriel. "Em's doing well at soccer--I caught one of her school games a month back."
Feeling content, Charlotte lay there under the sun as the two spoke. A dragonfly buzzed somewhere, and she could hear the girls playing with Jake and Sailor, the atmosphere warm and alive and happy. This, she thought, was what she wanted. A big, rambunctious family that welcomed everyone, even prodigals who'd made awful mistakes.
Gabriel's phone buzzed into the hazy quiet. He'd left it on the sideline during the game but now slipped it out of his pocket. "Bishop," he said, then paused. "What's the situation?"
He left ten minutes later, heading to deal with an unexpected supply issue that could derail a nationwide campaign set to launch tonight. "No, stay here," he said to Charlotte when she readied herself to accompany him. "I'll sort out this headache and be back in time to eat."
"Can't Arnett handle this?" He was Gabriel's Chief Operations Officer, and highly competent.
"He's meeting me there. I want to make dead sure we put out this fire." A kiss and he was gone.