by Sue Horsford
Gabriel got up from his seat, and I stopped breathing for a moment, but then he left the room and went into the kitchen. I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t about to win any awards for my hostess skills.
A moment later, he returned and his voice was so close I swear I could feel his breath on my face. “Drink this, Faye.”
I kept my eyes closed. Maybe if I ignored him he’d go away.
“Faye,” he said again. His voice caressed me. It was seductive, beguiling, a voice that belonged in the bedroom. I could imagine him murmuring into my ear in the darkness, could almost feel the heat from his naked body pressed hard against mine, and I clenched my thighs together.
“Faye, drink this water, please.”
I opened my eyes to see him kneeling beside me with a glass. He was holding it toward me, eyebrows raised and a stern look in his eyes which told me he had no intention of taking no for an answer. I sat up and took the glass from him, dropping my gaze from his. I couldn’t begin to understand why obeying him felt so natural and so satisfying. But it did and he knew it, too.
He remained on his knees beside me, watching me intently while I drank, making sure I did as I was told.
The cold water soothed my thirst but did nothing to assuage the restless hunger that was growing by the second, and, for a moment, I ignored the voice of reason in my head and dared to imagine him lying me back on the couch, unbuttoning my blouse and easing me out of my skirt, soothing my burning flesh everywhere he touched. My cheeks grew warm at my thoughts. Could he read my mind? Could he tell that I wanted to clench my fingers in his hair while he kissed me until my lips were swollen and sore, that I wanted to feel him moving inside me while I lost myself in those gorgeous, mesmerizing eyes?
Ginny came back into the living room just then and stood staring at us, an expression of annoyance on her lovely face, as though she’d already staked him out as her property.
How wonderful to be able to do that, to be so beautiful you knew every man you met was bound to want you. A sudden surge of anger coursed through me at the unfairness of it all.
“Is everything all right in here?” she asked.
I forced myself to smile. I’d been feeling hypnotized, as if Gabriel had woven some strange erotic spell over me, but the sight of Ginny revived me like a sharp slap across the face. “I’m fine now. Shall we go out into the garden?”
We took our places at the table, and Paul poured everyone wine. He hesitated as he came to my glass. “Do you want to drink tonight?”
“Of course I do. I’ve told you, I’m fine.”
My earlier conviction that Paul’s concern was genuine had melted away. He just didn’t want me to embarrass him again in front of Gabriel. I mean, falling into our guest’s arms in a dead faint. I’d never hear the end of it.
“Well, just take it easy, okay? We don’t want you blacking out again.” He spoke as if I’d fainted on purpose.
“This looks delicious,” said Gabriel.
I smiled, willing myself to relax around him. What the hell, he was just a sexy man who would probably end the night going home with my sister, and I was a married woman. The feelings I’d been having were a moment of madness, that was all. It must have been the heat.
We turned our attention to the lasagna, then Paul said, “Did you see the game on Sunday, Gabriel?”
“I didn’t, no. I don’t really follow football.”
“Oh.” Paul’s tone was polite, but this was tantamount to heresy in his eyes. “What do you watch? Rugby? Cricket?”
“I like rugby, but, to be honest, I don’t watch any sport on TV. Don’t watch much TV at all, actually.”
Oh, God. Was he one of those intellectual snobs who wanted everyone to think television was beneath them? What a relief to find something negative about him. Maybe now I could stop having silly fantasies.
“Television not intellectual enough for you, then?” I said. It came out as a sneer and I caught a shocked look from Ginny out of the corner of my eye.
“It’s not that,” Gabriel said. “There’s some brilliant stuff on TV. It’s just that I never seem to have time to watch it. I always feel there’s something else I should be doing.” He smiled, showing perfect white teeth, but, as well as amusement in his eyes, I saw the light of battle. “Believe me, I’m not at all high-brow. I watched The X Factor once, all the way through.”
“Did you?” said Paul in mock horror. “I don’t think I could sit through the whole thing.” He passed the basket of home-made bread to Gabriel. “Did you enjoy the sob stories?”
“I did. I thought it was so moving when the girl in a coma turned out to have an amazing voice,” Gabriel said, grinning at Paul.
“Oh, was she the one who said she was inspired to sing by the death of her third cousin, twice removed?” Paul asked, with every appearance of seriousness.
Ginny was glancing from one to the other, her lovely brow furrowed in confusion. Honestly, I sometimes thought, God had been so busy working on getting her face perfect, he’d run out of time and had to give her the brain of a gibbon.
“It’s funny that you think it’s so silly, yet you watched it all the way through,” I said. I’d meant to sound playful, but, somehow, it came out as sarcasm.
If Gabriel noticed, he didn’t let on. “My girlfriend loved it and I was trying to keep her happy,” he said, smiling in apology.
“And do you still watch it with her?” Ginny asked him. I couldn’t help blushing for her. Could she be any more obvious?
“We’re not together anymore,” he said.
“So what do you do to relax now that you don’t watch The X Factor?” she wanted to know, her voice lingering over the word ‘relax’, as if the two of them were alone.
Gabriel didn’t seem to realize he was being chatted up. “I’m happiest when I’m being creative. The farmhouse is my pet project at the moment. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, but I’m a photographer by trade. In my spare time—what there is of it—I like to draw and paint and I play a bit of piano.”
“Really?” Ginny’s eyes were as wide as she could make them.
I noticed she wasn’t eating, just pushing the food around on her plate as if it hadn’t taken me all day to make it.
“A man of many talents,” I said, curling my lip. “Is there anything you can’t do, Gabriel?”
He smiled at me but didn’t answer.
“More wine, Gabriel?” Paul said. He shot me a glance of annoyance as he picked up the bottle.
“Thank you,” said Gabriel. He turned to Ginny. “And what do you enjoy doing?”
Ginny hesitated. Gabriel had put her on the spot. “I… I like reading,” she said. That wasn’t strictly a lie. She did like celebrity and glamor mags.
“Read any good books lately?” Paul put in, trying to give her a chance to shine. Idiot. Had he met my sister?
Ginny put one perfectly manicured finger to her lips in an attitude of deep thought. “I’ve been reading a book about cat behavior,” she said eventually.
I knew the book she was talking about. I’d bought it for her five years ago when she’d got her cat, Nicholas. Ginny had named him after our father, which I thought was an odd thing to do, but then my relationship with Dad had been nothing like Ginny’s.
“Did you know cats only ever meow to humans, never to each other?” she said.
“I didn’t, no.” Gabriel wore the earnest expression of someone who was trying to appear interested, and I winced in sympathy for Ginny. Gabriel didn’t seem to be the sort of man to be captivated by a pretty face. She was going to have to try a bit harder.
“Do you have any pets, Gabriel?” she asked.
“Yes, a pet rat.”
“Is he black and called Satan?” I asked him.
“No, he’s white and he’s called Hamelin.”
“Oh, that’s from The Pied Piper,” said Ginny.
“Yes, we understood the literary allusion,” I said. This earned me a hurt look from my sist
er. What was wrong with me tonight?
Gabriel’s lips twitched. “Why would I have a black rat called Satan?”
Damn the man. The more I tried to rile him, the funnier he seemed to find it. And why was I trying to rile him, anyway? He seemed a perfectly nice man and yet, there was something about him that unsettled me, something that seemed to draw me in and the more I tried to pull away, the stronger his hold on me became.
Perhaps more wine would help. I noticed I seemed to have finished before everyone else and I picked up another bottle. “Top-up, anyone?”
“Don’t you think you should take it easy, love?” Paul asked me. He was smiling, but the stiffness at the corners of his mouth betrayed his tension. He was not happy with me at all.
I smiled back and topped up my own glass. I was damned if I was going to play the part of the perfect supportive little wife. Not anymore.
Ginny gave a sigh and pushed her plate away.
“Not hungry?” said Paul, his voice full of sympathy.
She smiled and patted her stomach. “I have to watch my figure, you know.”
“Well, I don’t know how you can leave any of this lasagna,” said Gabriel. “It’s the best I’ve ever tasted, Faye.”
“Careful,” Paul said. “Too many compliments and you’ll turn her head.”
I smiled at Gabriel. “Thank you.”
He took another mouthful and chewed thoughtfully then, after he’d swallowed, he said, “So, what’s the secret ingredient?”
“I’m afraid you’ll never get that out of her,” said Paul. “It’s a closely guarded family secret.”
I smiled sweetly. “A dash of cumin.”
“Wow, you didn’t even need to twist her arm,” said Ginny. “You must have secret powers of persuasion,” she added, a coquettish smile upon her face.
“They could’ve done with you in the Spanish Inquisition,” said Paul.
I had a sudden image of Gabriel, dark and enigmatic in a hooded cape, leading me away in chains to his torture chamber, and I choked on my wine.
“Careful, Faye,” Paul warned me.
He was frowning at me and I knew it wasn’t my digestion he was concerned with.
Suddenly, I’d had enough of my husband and my sister sucking up to Gabriel and I’d had more than enough of trying to play happy families. Maybe I should just leave the three of them to get on with it. They obviously didn’t need me.
My face grew hot and tears seared my eyes as I stood and started clearing plates away.
Paul jumped up. “I’ll help you.” In the kitchen, he turned to me. “What the hell is up with you tonight?”
“What’s the matter?” I said. “Am I not being a dutiful wife? Perhaps you should trade me in for a newer model.”
I lifted the cheesecake out of the fridge, pausing for a moment to let the cold air take the heat out of my burning cheeks then I turned round.
Paul was staring at me. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but you’re making a right bloody show of yourself. And slow down on the wine, for God’s sake.”
I stared at him for a long moment. There was so much I wanted to say but I wasn’t sure I was ready.
We took the cheesecake into the garden along with another bottle of wine, and for the rest of the evening, I tried to remember that whatever was going on in my marriage, Gabriel was our guest, and I did my best to play the perfect hostess.
“Well, I’ve had a wonderful evening,” said Gabriel, “but it’s getting late. I’d better phone a cab.” He brought out his phone from his jacket pocket.
“Could you drop me off on your way?” Ginny asked him with a seductive smile.
“Of course,” he said.
Did he realize she lived nowhere near him? Did that even matter?
After they’d gone, Paul seemed to want to take me to task, but I told him I had a headache and went to bed, leaving him to clear up.
I undressed and slipped naked beneath a cool cotton sheet, wondering if he’d apologize to Gabriel for me when he saw him on Monday and knowing he probably would. Well, I had been a little rude, but Gabriel hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d seemed amused more than anything.
Would he have been so amused if he’d been in Paul’s shoes, though? Would Gabriel put up with such a stroppy cow for a wife? There had been that expression in his eyes when he’d told me to drink my water, the joking threat to restrain me. He was definitely a man who liked to be in control.
As the first rumblings of thunder sounded in the distance and a faint breeze disturbed the stillness of the air, I let my legs fall open and brought my hands down to touch myself. I pictured Gabriel as a stern Victorian husband dealing with his insubordinate wife, and as I stroked my fingers up and down my folds, I quickly became wet. I gave a silent moan and arched my back as I brushed the tips of my fingers across my clitoris. I imagined him standing in front of me, arms folded across his chest, his mouth set in a firm line, his entire demeanor exuding authority, and I moved my fingers faster. They slipped through my wetness, and I closed my eyes to see Gabriel more clearly. I saw him grasping my wrist, determined to show me the error of my ways and at the thought of his touch, I came almost immediately with a powerful shudder. I let out a long sigh. The tension had drained away from my body, leaving me relaxed and sleepy, but the ache between my legs was still there.
Chapter Two
I was slouched on the sofa in my dressing gown, nursing a well-earned headache and a cup of strong coffee, when Paul phoned from wherever it was he’d gone fishing.
“I’ve just had Gabriel on the phone. He wanted to know if he’d left his sunglasses there.” Paul’s voice was so polite he might have been speaking to a stranger.
“Paul, I’m sorry about last night.”
The unforgiving silence on the other end of the phone was deafening.
“I’ll go and see,” I said. I went over to the armchair where Gabriel had been sitting after we’d come in from the garden, and, when I picked up the cushion, I found his Ray-Bans neatly concealed behind. “I’ve found them.”
“Okay.”
“Paul, I am sorry.” I wasn’t, really. But Paul could win prizes for his sulking and sometimes it was just easier to make the first move.
“It’s Gabriel you should apologize to.”
At the thought of apologizing to Gabriel, an image popped unbidden into my head. I saw myself naked, kneeling at his feet, head bowed in penitence as he stroked my hair with his long fingers and deliberated upon my punishment. The thought was so unwelcome and yet so strangely exciting that, for a moment, I couldn’t answer.
“You can apologize when you phone him later,” Paul said, as if there was no more to be said on the matter.
“Why will I be phoning him later?”
“Because I’m trying to fish and you need to tell him you’ve found his glasses.” He sounded exasperated.
“Fine. I’ll ring him now.”
“No. Leave it half an hour or so. He said he was just about to get in the shower. Do you have a pen?”
Gabriel in the shower, head back, eyes closed, water streaming down his neck, his broad chest, his tight stomach, the V of his hips… My hand trembled as I wrote down the number Paul gave me.
“Okay. Paul…”
“What!”
“Nothing.” Suddenly, I didn’t care.
He sighed. “Goodbye, Faye.”
I put the phone down, annoyed. Why did I have to be the one who phoned Gabriel? Why couldn’t he phone him?
I’d written Gabriel’s number on a scrap of paper, and even though it was my writing, it seemed unfamiliar and dangerous somehow, like some spell that would conjure up the devil. I had my own personal hotline to Gabriel. All I needed to do to hear his voice was tap eleven numbers into my phone. My stomach was doing the jitterbug at the thought of speaking to him, but I had a little grace yet. I needed to give him enough time to get out of the shower.
Was he out already? Was he walking around naked, drops of water
still clinging to his body? Maybe he was wearing a short white towel around his waist, the white accentuating his tanned skin.
A sudden surge of jealousy hit me so hard the bitterness left a taste on my tongue. Was Ginny with him? Had she spent the night with him? Was I fantasizing about my sister’s new boyfriend? I needed to get a grip of myself, stop thinking of him like this.
I left it twenty minutes then picked up the phone and started to call his number. It took several attempts. My fingers didn’t seem to be working and I kept pressing the wrong buttons, like trying to make a phone call in a dream. Finally, I got it right. The phone rang six times, then, just as I thought I’d been reprieved, I heard his voice, deep and smooth and sexy as hell.
“Hello.”
I swallowed hard. How could he make a simple greeting sound like an invitation to come to bed?
“Hi… Hi, Gabriel. It’s Faye.”
“Faye, hi. How are you feeling this morning?”
There was nothing in his voice that made me think he was expecting an apology and I relaxed a little.
“Not too bad, thanks, just a bit hungover.”
“No more dizzy spells?”
Only now. I’d never realized before that speaking on the phone could be so intimate, his voice in my ear, my voice in his, and I found I was twisting my hair around my finger as I spoke.
“No, I’m fine, thanks. Er… I’m just phoning to say I’ve found your sunglasses.”
“Oh, thanks. Are you busy? Would it be okay if I came over and picked them up now?”
A thrill of adrenaline rushed through me at the thought of being alone with him. This was ridiculous. I was a woman of the world, for God’s sake, not some timid little virgin, afraid of losing her virtue. What was I so nervous about? He was hardly about to come over and ravish me. But, somehow, I felt the need to protect myself, to be on my guard around him. Perhaps if I went to his house instead, I could stay for just a few minutes then make some excuse to leave.