Mine To Take (Nine Circles)

by Jackie Ashenden

  “Bullshit you’re not here to challenge me.” The light was behind his tall figure, gilding the blond spikes of his hair and shadowing his face, making his eyes seem even darker. “Standing there all cool, calm, and collected in that tight little trench coat. Acting like I don’t affect you in any way. What’s that if not a challenge?”

  Dammit. There was no escaping her physical reaction to his nearness, her heart racing faster, an ache gathering tightly down low inside her. She could feel his warmth and he smelled of leather, a rich, spicy scent that made her think of what it would be like to ride with him on the back of that massive black motorcycle she’d seen parked outside the front of the hotel. Her thighs spread on either side of his, her arms around his lean waist, pressed up against his back, leaving everything behind. Her mother, her stepfather, her business …

  No. Don’t go there. Don’t even think it.

  God, no. Not when she kept the weakness deep inside herself. The wild, irresponsible part of her that loved a challenge, a game, an adrenaline rush. It was a vulnerability she and Alex had inherited from their father and she knew where it ultimately led: to destruction. She indulged it every so often with a little harmless credit-card abuse at her favorite shops, but that was it.

  Control. That was the key. It had kept her away from the abyss for years. She could not afford to let it slip now.

  “You don’t affect me.” She kept her arms tightly folded and her voice cool and steady. Telling him. Telling herself. “Which is why I don’t give a damn where I sleep. But all that aside, haven’t we got more important things to do than trade double-entendres?”

  His laugh, a soft, lazy sound, felt like the brush of velvet over her skin. “Don’t worry. We have plenty of time for all those important things. I’m not interested in talking business right at the moment.”

  “So what are you interested in talking about then?”

  He tilted his head to the side, his gaze following down the line of her body and back up again, making it very, very clear what he was interested in. “I would very much like to talk about when we start fucking.”

  The word was a harsh, sharp jolt. But there was also a brutal eroticism to it that touched something raw inside her. That wild part …

  Honor took a small, silent breath to steady herself. “Charming, as ever, Mr. Woolf. I’m flattered, obviously. But you should know that sex isn’t part of my negotiating method.” She managed a patient smile. “Besides, I never mix business with pleasure.”

  The expression on his face didn’t change. “That’s a shame. And ordinarily, I’d leave it at that. But in this case, you’re ignoring one very important variable.”

  “I am? Well, don’t keep me in suspense, please.”

  Without any hurry at all, Gabriel reached out and deftly pulled open the belt that held her trench coat closed. Then he settled his large, shockingly warm hands on her hips and tugged her right up against him.

  He did it so slowly. She had plenty of time to get away. And afterward, she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t. Why she hadn’t stepped back, told him not to touch her ever again. But she didn’t. Her arms unfolded and she just stood there, her mind utterly blank as her body settled against his, as the heat of him burned like a furnace through the layers of leather and wool and silk. Burned until she was sure she could feel it against her bare skin.

  “Sexual chemistry,” he said. “That’s the variable you’re forgetting, Honor.”

  She didn’t move. To be honest, she couldn’t move. Even thinking was difficult right now. She didn’t know where to put her hands so she kept them by her side, trying to keep her fingers relaxed and loose. But it was difficult with his body right … there. Oh yes, right there …

  “What about it?” she asked, struggling and failing to stop the huskiness from creeping into her voice. To stop herself from melting against the hard expanse of his chest.

  His fingers flexed on her hips, squeezing gently, and her breathing almost stopped. God, she wasn’t that hard up that his slightest touch could steal everything from her, was she?

  “Sweetheart, if you have to ask me that question,” his voice was soft, rough, and hypnotic, “then you’ve never felt it before.”

  She could feel his hips against hers, the ridge of his cock pressing between her thighs. Large and hard, just like the rest of him. She found herself looking up into his eyes. They were black as night, a velvet kind of darkness that would wrap her up and drown her in sensuality. In heat …

  He’d be rough. Would probably hold her down. And he’d fuck her, make her take him and she’d love it. The ultimate rush …

  He gave another one of those husky laughs. “Looks to me like we’ve got an interesting week ahead of us, hmm?” Then before she was ready—way, way before—he let her go, stepping back and turning toward the door to the bedroom. “Think about the answer to my question, Honor,” he said casually as he went ahead and pulled it open. “I want the answer as soon as I’ve finished my shower.”

  She couldn’t think. Her brain felt fuzzy, the blood hammering in her veins. How on earth had that happened? “What?” Her voice sounded all thin and breathy. Dammit. “What question?”

  “I thought I was clear. But if you need me to repeat it, I will.”

  It was a struggle but she managed to pull herself together enough to say, “Oh, you mean the question about us fucking?” She was pleased with herself as to how casually she said the word, since she almost never cursed. “I can tell you the answer right now. Never, Mr. Woolf. You and I will never start fucking.”

  Gabriel’s smile was that of a predator. “Keep telling yourself that. But you and I both know I could have had you over the arm of that couch not five seconds ago. And you wouldn’t have stopped me.”

  She had no answer to that. Because she suspected the bastard was right, she wouldn’t have. Which was a warning sign. If he could overwhelm her control as easily as that then she needed to be doubly on her guard. Her body might crave him, but that didn’t mean she had to give it what it wanted. That was how addiction began.

  Honor lifted her chin and gave him back the cool stare she’d patented years ago. “Would you have even asked?”

  She thought she saw something that was less than his usual arrogant assurance flicker in his eyes. Something that was almost like … unease. “I always ask,” he said flatly. “Always.” Then he turned and went into the bedroom, pulling the door shut after him.

  Honor stared. And for some strange reason, it felt like she’d won.

  * * *

  Gabriel sat in the guest library of the hotel later that evening and stared at the screen of his laptop. He was supposed to be checking e-mails, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His fingers tightened around the crystal tumbler of single malt he’d brought in with him and he raised it, swallowing a mouthful. The alcohol burned, joining the other fire already burning in his gut, making it impossible to concentrate.

  He shifted in the old leather armchair, grimacing. Trying to get the hard-on in his jeans to lay the hell down and leave him alone.

  He hadn’t had it so bad in years. Honor St. James and her sexy little body. He hadn’t been wrong about their sexual chemistry, and yeah, he’d lost his head a bit, wanting a reaction from her, some kind of fucking acknowledgement instead of that cool stare she kept giving him. He, whose self-control was always ironclad.

  Christ, he was an idiot. Sure, he’d known there was attraction there, but he hadn’t realized until he’d touched her how strong it actually was. She’d felt … so good against him. Her warmth and softness at odds with her cool, calm exterior. Then she’d looked up at him, her blue eyes gone dark and deep. Smoky with desire. And he’d felt something inside him shudder and wake up.

  A beast he kept chained and locked away.

  “Would you even have asked?”

  Abruptly Gabriel closed the laptop, dumped it onto the table beside him and drained the scotch in his tumbler. Then he pushed himsel
f out of his chair and began to pace around the room, propelled by a strange kind of restlessness he didn’t have a name for.

  The hotel library was the same as most he’d been in, lots of tall bookshelves and wood-paneled walls. A huge fireplace with a fire burning bright. A few high-backed chairs and sofas scattered around. A bit like their meeting room at the Second Circle.

  There were no other guests around so he gave in to the restlessness, pacing over to the fire then to the bookshelves, to the heavily curtained windows then back to his chair again.

  He’d fucked up. Pushed her too hard, been too blunt. Let their attraction get in the way. He wanted information from her and that meant he needed her open and receptive, not offended and pulling away. Even worse that she was the one who’d gotten under his guard rather than the other way around.

  He hadn’t liked her dig about him not asking. It made him uncomfortable, made him aware of his own boundaries and how he was testing them with his plans for her.

  Damn woman was too smart and too perceptive for her own good, and it was going to mean he had to get a firm grip on this chemistry. Change his approach. Find a new game plan.

  He stopped near the fire as his phone began to ring. Digging it out of his back pocket, he checked the screen. Eva. Interesting.

  Hitting the accept button, he answered it. “What’s up?”

  “You at the hotel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does it look promising?”

  “Your stock, standard luxury resort so far. I’ll know more once I have a chance to look around the property.”

  “Okay, well, I found something … interesting. I’m not sure if it’s anything to worry about yet, but I thought you should know.”

  “What is it?”

  “I wanted to see their computer system, check out their level of security, etcetera.”

  Gabriel knew what was coming. “You hacked in?”

  “Their security is shit.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Good thing they’re wanting Void Angel’s investment, that’s all I can say. Anyway, so I was checking out the reservation system—not just this hotel, but the whole chain—having a look at guest numbers and things, and I noticed that they’ve had a quite a few cancellations.”

  “So? That’s unusual how?”

  “They were all cancellations less than twenty-four hours before the guests were due to arrive.”

  Gabriel stilled, staring sightlessly at the fire. He knew crime. These days he was all about the straight and narrow, but over the years he’d developed a kind of sixth sense when it came to suspicious activity. And this had suspicious written all over it.

  “How many cancellations are we talking about here?”

  “For each hotel not more than two or three, but the chain as a whole? Worldwide? Enough that I noticed. I mean, it could be nothing. Bad hotel reviews maybe or just coincidence.”

  “But you don’t think that.”

  Eva paused. “No, I don’t.”

  “Any ideas about what’s going on?”

  “A few. I’ll keep investigating and see what I can come up with. I’m beginning to think that the financials aren’t the only thing sketchy about Tremain Hotels.”

  Intriguing. Was Tremain up to something other than just bad management? “Let me know if you find anything then.”

  After he’d ended the call, Gabriel stuck his phone back in his pocket, continuing to stare into the fire for a long moment.

  If there was something sketchy about Tremain, then Eva and her hacking skills would track it down. But she wasn’t the only one who had resources. He had a valuable source of information all of his own, a source who was, right at that moment, down in the cottage, probably getting ready for bed.

  He smiled. Honor St. James might turn out to be even more useful than he’d thought. All he had to do was find the key to unlocking her.

  And he would.

  He always did.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Honor stepped away from Gabriel and Lindsay, the hotel manager, glancing down at her phone to see who’d texted her. Another one from Guy checking up on how things were progressing with Gabriel and whether he’d made an investment decision. That was the third one today.

  She frowned. She knew he wasn’t happy, but did he really need to keep texting her about it? He wasn’t usually this impatient.

  The whole morning had been taken up with giving Gabriel his promised tour of the hotel, with Lindsay along to answer questions about the day-to-day management. It had been, quite frankly, exhausting. Gabriel was a man who missed nothing and had a question about everything, from the kind of wood used in the construction, to the energy efficiency of the solar panels on the roof, to the staffing levels of the hotel during the off-peak season.

  He was now, as they stood near the boathouse on the icy lakefront, grilling Lindsay on occupancy levels, and it was a relief not to have his fierce attention focused on her for a few moments.

  Her breath frosted in the icy air as she quickly texted Guy back a “no decision made as yet” response, then pocketed her phone in her coat, glancing over to where Gabriel and Lindsay stood.

  He’d left her alone the night before, staying up in the hotel’s library to “work.” She’d had a room service dinner and then decided on an early night, her heart thumping, all her senses on high alert as she’d undressed for bed. Like he was going to come and batter down her door, throw her on the bed and take her, eat her up like the wolf he was named for.

  A totally ridiculous thought and yet she’d lain there in bed, unable to sleep, half terrified, listening to every sound, and the other half of her … wanting him to do exactly that.

  No. No, of course she didn’t want him to do that. How stupid to even imagine she would.

  And when she’d woken up in the morning, decidedly unravished, she’d been relieved. She’d needed the breathing space and some time to get her head back in order. Time to make sure her armor was firmly in place. Yes, he was a temptation, but now that she knew just how much of one, she’d be on her guard. She wasn’t going to be as weak as she had been the day before. She couldn’t afford to be.

  He was a client. And that was all.

  Footsteps sounded and she looked up as Gabriel came toward her, stalking across the snowy ground like a panther, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans, heavy black boots making crunching sounds in the snow.

  She straightened. Already she could feel herself tensing up in response to his nearness, which was irritating in the extreme. “I hope you left poor Lindsay alive. I don’t think he was expecting to be grilled quite so intensely.”

  Gabriel lifted a shoulder. “He’s still breathing. You have a problem with me asking questions?”

  “No, but we don’t often have investors who want to know every single detail.”

  “Details are important. Especially where money is concerned. And most especially when it’s my money.”

  “Fair enough. You have more you want to see?”

  “Not today.” The winter sunlight gilded his hair in stark contrast to the darkness of his eyes as they swept over her, assessing.

  “Good,” she said, trying to ignore the accelerated beat of her heart. “Then you won’t mind if we go inside now. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s cold.”

  He didn’t move. “I owe you an apology, Honor.”

  For a second, she wondered whether or not she’d heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you really want me to say it again?”

  “Actually, yes. I think you should.”

  The corner of his long mouth turned up, the hint of a smile softening the brutally handsome cast of his features. “You like to push the boundaries, don’t you, sweetheart? I’m apologizing. For my behavior yesterday. I was out of line.”

  Honor tried not to let her shock show. She didn’t think Gabriel Woolf was a man who apologized a lot. Or even at all. “Well, thank you. And yes, you were.”

  Ano
ther opaque sweep of those dark eyes. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

  She gave him a wary look, not quite sure how to take this apparently penitent, sincere side of him. “How?”

  “I was wondering if you’d like to go for a ride with me. Shake out the cobwebs a little. Leave business behind for an hour or so.”

  “A ride? On what?”

  “What do you think? I have a bike.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  The opaque look faded, a glint of wickedness in the depths of his eyes that should not have been as seductive as it was. “What’s the matter? You don’t like my bike?”

  It wasn’t so much the bike—though riding on the back of that huge black machine seemed a little insane—as the thought of wrapping her arms around him, of her legs on either side of his, that fantasy she’d had in the cottage the day before. Such temptation …

  “I have no feelings about your bike either way,” Honor said, staunchly ignoring the vision in her head. “But it’s cold and I don’t have the appropriate clothing.”

  “And if you were to have appropriate clothing?”

  “It’s a moot point since I don’t.”

  Gabriel glanced through the trees toward the main building of the hotel. “Okay,” he said in a neutral voice. “Your loss.” Without another word he turned and began striding back along the snowy path to the hotel.

  Honor stared after him. What? Gabriel Woolf accepting a refusal? Without even trying to get her to change her mind? Irritated with the strange discomfort that sat in her gut, Honor began walking up the path after his tall figure.

  First an apology and then the offer of going out with him. Odd. Didn’t seem like his usual modus operandi. Up until now, he’d been blunt to the point of offensiveness about what he wanted and he certainly hadn’t liked her refusing him.

  A man who got his way. That was Gabriel.

  So why had he accepted her refusal without a word? More to the point, why did she care? She didn’t want to go for a ride on his big black bike. Not at all.

  Perhaps he didn’t really want you to go after all?

  But then why would he have asked in the first place?