by Nalini Singh
Gabriel was rigid beside her, but he didn't interrupt. He just held her safe, and she knew he'd allow no one and nothing to get to her.
"At some point during that first night," Charlotte said, drawing her strength from his, "he wrenched back my head again and hacked off chunks of my hair." Terrified for her life, Charlotte hadn't cared about the petty act. Ironic then that it was one that haunted her.
"Eventually, he decided he wanted to sleep and went into my bedroom to do it. I thought I could tip the chair over while he was gone, make enough noise that one of my neighbors might hear. After he left the kitchen, I waited a long time, then started trying to rock the chair so it would go over. And he was there. He'd waited all that time just so he could reappear and watch the hope drain out of my face."
She'd never forget the way he'd laughed at her surprise. "Later, he hog-tied me and put me in the bedroom closet. He giggled the entire time." Her physical injuries had been agonizing by that point, but worse had been the knowledge that no one would come for her.
No one knew she was all alone in the dark with a psychopath.
"The next morning, he grabbed the back of my neck and dragged me into the kitchen." Fingers locked tight in Gabriel's shirt, she detailed exactly what had happened in the kitchen, the horrible things Richard had said, the injuries he'd caused.
"The entire time he was taunting and abusing me," she added when she could speak again. "I told myself I couldn't give in, couldn't die. I had to survive so I could testify, put Richard behind bars."
She'd still had hope then, hadn't known how much worse it would get.
Gabriel couldn't think, could barely see, his vision a haze of red. He wanted to find the bastard who'd terrorized Charlotte and crush every bone in his pathetic body, pound his face to mush and stomp on his head until his brains leaked out his ears. Then he wanted to bring Richard back to life and hurt him all over again.
Jesus, Charlotte was so small. She'd have been no match for a full-grown male. Richard's blows had to have broken things in her, and the ugliness of the mental torture... He didn't know if he could stand to hear any more, but he would. Because if she'd survived it, he could damn well hear it, damn well hold her safe.
He would always hold her safe.
"After his breakfast," she said, and she was crying now, though she didn't seem to realize it, "he hurt me again." She cradled her left arm unconsciously against her chest, and he knew the bastard had either sprained or broken it. "But he made sure it wasn't enough to push me into a blackout."
Gabriel forced himself to breathe, the red haze having morphed into pure, cold rage.
"Then he put me in the closet again." Charlotte's breath was a rasp, her body shaking. "He tied something over my nose so I could barely breathe, had to focus absolutely to get air into my lungs. I found out afterward that he left the house then, went to have coffee with friends. Setting up an alibi."
Gabriel clenched his right hand, the hand Charlotte couldn't see, around the tree branch next to him so tightly that the wood groaned. "The fucking psychopath."
"Yes, he was, but he didn't know everything. While he was out, the home phone began to ring and ring and ring. I knew it was Molly checking up on me."
Gabriel knew the other woman wouldn't have simply accepted Charlotte's sudden silence. "She called the cops."
"Yes. She directly contacted the officers who'd followed up on my complaints about the stalking and told them something was wrong. She said another student had just told her that Richard planned to come after me and that she'd been calling to warn me." A shaky smile. "She was lying through her teeth about all of it, but it got them to move."
Smile fading, her breath came shallower and faster.
Gabriel had never felt so fucking helpless in his life. "I've got you," he said, releasing the abused tree branch to brush his fingers over her tear-wet cheek. "I've got you."
A hot droplet splashed onto the back of his hand as she said, "Richard came back maybe fifteen minutes after the phone stopped ringing. I don't know the exact time--my mind was hazy. He came to the closet and told me he'd thought of a new game. How even though he didn't want me, he knew some people who might, that he'd invited them over for a party with his slut."
No, no, no.
"It was all lies," she said, sending knives of icy relief through Gabriel. "But I didn't know that. I thought it was real and it broke me. It just... broke me. I started to cry."
"Hell, Charlotte, you held out that long?" Her strength amazed him. "You're fucking incredible." He had to fight every instinct in his body not to haul her into his arms and squeeze her tight.
"I couldn't do it anymore. I started crying and it was weird. He became gentle, said how it was all my fault that I'd made him lose his temper, but now that I'd seen my mistake, maybe he'd take me back." Wet words, Charlotte's voice so hoarse it was barely understandable. "What he didn't realize was that the cops who'd responded to Molly's call had arrived right after he returned. They saw him enter the town house, but since they were certain he had me hostage, they couldn't simply bust down the door."
Gabriel understood the cops' reasoning, but those extra minutes had cost Charlotte. "Tell me they got him."
She nodded. "They made one of my neighbors turn up his music really loud, and then they broke a window under cover of the noise and climbed in. The next time Richard stepped out into the hallway, they slammed him to the ground and cuffed him before he could figure out what was happening." Her entire body seemed to crumple on the last words, as if it had taken all her strength to tell him what she had.
Holding her against him without trapping her in a way that might make her panic, Gabriel tried to temper his rage. Charlotte didn't need him to be a macho stud right now. She needed him to hold her, his fierce, shy Charlotte who'd survived the horror with her soul and her spirit intact. Maybe it was a little bruised, but so many people would've just given up after such a brutal attack. She'd built a life, a career.
Hell, she'd fought with him.
It staggered him to realize how much courage it must've taken for her to stand up to him when she didn't know how he might react. "No one will ever hurt you again," he whispered against her hair, the promise one he'd kill to keep. "You're safe."
Ten minutes later, Gabriel cuddling her close the entire time, Charlotte was no longer crying. She'd dried her face using tissues from her handbag, but now she didn't know what to do. She'd never felt so exposed, so naked. She couldn't look at Gabriel, terrified at what she'd see now that he knew the extent of the damage.
Not the physical, though she did bear some scars, but the psychological. Richard might not have killed her, but he'd shattered her, fracturing her psyche into countless pieces. She'd gathered up those pieces, put them back together, but the seams were jagged and rigid with scars, while other parts were hopelessly fragile.
"Hey." A big rough-skinned hand cupped her cheek, Gabriel's thumb brushing over her chin. "Look at me."
The command in his voice made her wounded soul struggle to the surface. "You're not my boss," she said, forcing up her head. "Not here."
Gabriel ran his thumb over her chin again, the tip brushing her lower lip. "You sure?" he asked, his voice a deep drawl. "It's kind of hot giving you orders, Ms. Baird."
She sucked in a breath, red-hot flames melting the lump of ice around her heart. She'd been so afraid he'd stop flirting so outrageously with her, that he'd start handling her with kid gloves, like something that wasn't strong enough to bear anything harsher--as if she wasn't woman enough to handle him. "Just don't expect me to obey," she said on the wave of her relief.
His lips curved, his thumb continuing to caress her lower lip with every stroke. "What would be the fun in that? How can I seduce you out of your panties if you take them off on command?"
"Gabriel." Her skin burned, but she could feel the sunshine again, see the brilliant colors of the flowers, the shadows retreating under the raw seduction of his voice and his touch.
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"Charlotte," he said in an echo of her tone, and then he kissed her.
It was a brush, nothing more, but it was a kiss.
Breathless despite the short contact, she bit down on her lower lip and blurted out, "You don't mind?"
It should've been a nonsensical question, but Gabriel's eyebrows drew together. His answer was a growl of sound. "That you're a fucking amazing woman? No."
Charlotte didn't know which aspect of his statement to respond to first. Jumping off the branch, she turned to him, her hands on her hips. "I can't believe you just growled at me after what I told you!"
Arms folded, he leaned back against the branch. "I'll do more than growl if you repeat that particular question." He ran his eyes down her body, lingering on her breasts, her hips, her thighs, before coming back up to her lips. "I might just put my hand in your panties or my mouth on your pussy and tease you until you're screaming for an orgasm and not give it to you until you say 'Sorry, Gabriel. I can't believe I'd ask such a ridiculous question.'"
Hands pressed to her cheeks, Charlotte looked around. Thankfully, no one was close enough to have overheard his sinful response. "I'm going for a walk." She needed to cool down, her breasts swollen and the place between her thighs throbbing as it never had before a certain T-Rex.
Of course he came after her, placing his hand on her lower back in a way that had already become familiar and walking with her toward the fountain. Her emotions were all akilter. She'd expected to feel broken and lost after her confession, and shards of pain lingered, but overwhelming it all was flustered delight. Charlotte didn't know if she could get over her fears to the point where she no longer had to worry about panic attacks, but it meant everything that Gabriel hadn't written her off.
"Have you had breakfast?" he asked as they reached the flower clock.
"No." She'd been too nervous. "I make really good pancakes." Cooking was her outlet, her sport, and she needed to do some right now. "I think you have almost all the ingredients--it'll only take us a couple of minutes to pick up some bananas if you'd like banana pancakes."
"Well," Gabriel said, his lips curved in a way that made her breath hitch, "I was going to take you out, but since I'd much rather have you in my lair, all to myself, I'm sold." He leaned in to press a wickedly sweet kiss to her cheekbone. "I promise I won't devour you unless you ask very nicely."
23
A Kiss Today, Nakedness Tomorrow
Gabriel sat on a breakfast stool he'd brought over to the freestanding counter and sliced some strawberries for Charlotte as she padded around barefoot in his kitchen. She'd taken off her shoes and her cardigan, the spaghetti straps of her pretty sundress exposing the elegant line of her throat, the gentle curves of her shoulders.
"Do you want chocolate chips in yours?" she asked with a sunny smile.
He shook his head, wanting to reach over and tumble her into his lap, have her for his breakfast. "Just plain banana for me."
Staggered by what he'd learned, by her courage, he hadn't at first known what to do. He was so angry for her, but the monster who'd brutalized her wasn't here for him to hurt, and Charlotte didn't need more violence. Then she'd refused to look at him after wiping away her tears, and he'd known exactly what he had to do: let her know she was beautiful and sexy and everything he wanted. He'd figured the woman who'd survived a cowardly psychopath could survive some blunt sexual teasing.
He'd been right.
Eating a strawberry, he lifted another perfect, glossy berry. "Come have a bite."
Leaning across the counter, she closed her teeth and lips over the bottom half of the berry, eyes closing in bliss. "Mmm, so sweet," she said, going back down on her feet.
He groaned and ate the other half. "You have no idea what it does to me to see you put things into your mouth."
Freezing in the act of turning to the black glass cooktop that was apparently something fancy that made her burst out in raptures, she shot him a look that made his cock go rock hard. Her cheeks were flushed, yes, but her eyes held sensual awareness. And then his Ms. Baird did something utterly unexpected.
She lifted a finger to her mouth and sucked on it, her cheeks hollowing.
"Fuck!" He got up, was halfway around the counter before he realized she hadn't moved, finger no longer in her mouth. Forcing himself to stop, he thrust his hands into his hair. "Pancakes," he said. "I'll have you later."
She returned to the cooktop, but her actions were jerky. He could've left it, but that wasn't who he was; walking back to his seat, he ate a few of the chocolate chips she'd bought when they picked up the fruit. "Was it how fast I moved?"
Her shoulders went stiff, but she nodded.
"So," he said, staying in position when his instinct was to go over there and stroke his hands down the smooth warmth of her arms, kiss a line up the curve of her neck, "if I walk around the counter and slide down one of the straps of your dress and press my lips to your shoulder, what happens?"
"I... I d-don't know." She poured in batter for a pancake.
He waited until she flipped it onto a plate before getting up. He expected her to turn, and she did, just enough that she could see him. Maintaining eye contact, he came close enough that her shoulder brushed his chest.
"You have such pretty skin, Charlotte," he said, running his fingers down her arm. "So soft and golden."
He drew his palm back up her arm, tugged on the strap. He could see her pulse skittering in her throat, but she hadn't gone motionless like a small animal in front of a predator. Senses on alert for any change, he bent down and did exactly as he'd said--he pressed his lips to her skin and licked out. Just a little. Just enough to make her jump.
Smiling, he broke the kiss and blew on the spot.
She shivered.
So he scraped his teeth over her before kissing her again.
A tiny whimper escaped her throat.
With any other woman, he'd have curved his hands around her front, cupped and squeezed her breasts as he got serious, his mouth ravenous on her neck, but Charlotte needed him to go slow.
Slow could be fun, he told his rigid cock, and tugged the strap back into place.
Charlotte could feel Gabriel's kiss long after he returned to his seat. His mouth, his tongue... She shivered again, unable to imagine how she'd bear it if he ever kissed her as intimately as he'd described the first time she'd been in his kitchen.
"Don't forget the chocolate chips for yours."
His voice made her toes curl, her nipples already throbbing points. "Thanks," she managed, and turned to shake some into the rest of the batter, and a few minutes later, the two of them were feasting on pancakes.
Instead of the awkward, painful morning she'd expected, she spent it bathed in sunshine while Gabriel sat across from her. There was some outrageous flirting, but they also talked about a couple of work matters. "We should go in, do the paperwork," she said, knowing exactly how much time he'd sliced out of his schedule for her. "Otherwise you won't have time to breathe tomorrow."
"Excellent. You can tell my mother I took you to work for our date."
A date. The sound of that made her smile widen. "It'll only take a couple of hours."
Gabriel looked at her, a tenderness in his expression that made her hurt in a sweet, wonderful way. "I have something for you," he said, to her surprise. "I've had it for a while. I don't know if today's the right day to give it to you, but I want to."
Charlotte squirmed on the breakfast stool, filled with curiosity as he disappeared upstairs. When he came back down, she couldn't see anything obvious, though one of his hands was loosely fisted. Coming around the counter, he took her wrist; she bit down on her lower lip... and then she was scowling.
"I don't want a used bracelet!" Outraged, she tried to wrench back her hand.
It was the bracelet he'd made her choose in Queenstown after dragging her around all the high-end stores. Now he had the nerve to laugh and hook the platinum, emerald, and diamond piece around her wrist.<
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"How many women do you know who have wrists this slender?"
Still scowling at his audacity, especially given how much she'd loved this piece--the design a delicacy of flowers and exquisitely shaped leaves--she said, "Statistically, at least a number of the women you dated."
"So suspicious." Flicking his thumb against the little oval platinum tag near the clasp, he said, "Good thing I got this."
Looking down, she felt her heart slam into her ribs. It was inscribed to Ms. Baird. "Ms. Baird?" she said, a little teary.
"My Ms. Baird."
She couldn't believe it. He'd bought this months ago. Lower lip quivering, she pushed at his chest. "You are a horrible man." It had infuriated her to be asked to choose a gift for some unknown woman. "Why did you torment me?"
"I was flirting with you," he said in a growl of a tone. "I figured you'd work it out when I made it clear I wanted your opinion and your opinion alone."
"How was I supposed to figure it out?" Sunshine from the skylight sparked off the stunning piece of jewelry as she glared up at him. "I told you, men like you don't hit on women like me."
His expression altered, pure sin in his eyes. "That's one punishment," he said in a tone that was a rasp of rough silk over her skin. "We'll figure out a payment schedule you can handle."
Chest rising and falling as she inhaled and exhaled jerkily, she refused to back down. "I can't accept this." It was valued in the serious five figures. She knew because she'd taken great delight in watching him pay for it, figuring that was his just deserts for dragging her along on the excruciating exercise.
"Try to give it back." It was a dare.
Taking it, she went to undo the clasp. Tried again. "Gabriel, what did you do?"
He pressed his lips to her shoulder again in response, his hand warm and possessive on her back. "I'll show you how to take it off when you stop attempting to give it back."
"This is ridiculous. There must be a way..." But try as she might, she couldn't figure out how to undo the clasp. "I can't go around wearing a bracelet worth half my annual income!"
He shrugged and put a strawberry to her lips. "Bite down."
When she did it with force, he raised his hand to play with her dress strap. "Still doesn't put me off that luscious mouth." Stroking the remaining half of the strawberry over her lips, he leaned down and whispered, "You wouldn't bite my cock, would you, Ms. Baird?"