Riccardo inclined his head. “The only sure thing is it’s going to be entertaining to watch.”
* * *
Her cozy little apartment on the Upper East Side was not lending its usual Zen to her upended senses. Alex pulled the ultrasoft steel-blue throw over herself and pretended the matching pillow was a potent voodoo doll with Gabe’s face on it. She gave it a mental stab with her eyes. Exactly when had she given him the power to bring her world crumbling down with one look from his arrogant, beautiful face?
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. That look, the one he’d had on his face when she’d put him on the spot about his intentions, took her back to that night in Jordan’s apartment. To the resigned, relieved expression he’d worn. That said she was good enough for an affair, unacceptable for anything else.
She sank her fingers into the pillow and sent it flying across the room, landing against the closet with a vicious thud. Where was the rational, deliberate Alex who would not have done something so stupid as to sleep with Gabe when the outcome had always been so clearly destined to be this. The Alex who knew who she was and where she was going and that it didn’t involve a man.
Her tirade was interruped by the peal of the doorbell.
Gabe. She didn’t need to have aced her IQ test in school to know it was him. The tone came again, long, insistent. Damn him. She did not want to talk to him.
“Alex.” He pounded on the door. “I know you’re in there. Let me in.”
He was going to wake up her neighbors! Lips pressed together, she slid off the sofa, stalked to the door and flung it open. Tall, dark, lean fighting male stood there, hand on the doorjamb. Ready for battle.
She scowled at him. “I told you to leave me alone.”
“You have no idea what the hell you want or need.” He shouldered his way in and shut the door.
She watched his shoes come off. “What are you doing?”
“You gave me two days to stew,” he muttered, reaching for her. “What do you think I’m doing?”
She sucked in a breath as he yanked her against him, his hard body making full contact with hers. “You think I don’t care about you, Lex? Jordan Lane just ripped off my wine. Sent me a bottle so similar to The Devil’s Peak they could pass for each other in a blind taste test. And what am I doing? Instead of prepping for my meeting tomorrow, I’m chasing across the city after you.”
Her mouth dropped open, shock momentarily muting the lust coursing through her.. “I don’t understand...how could Jordan copy your wine?”
His mouth flattened. “He has a mole in the winery. Someone passing our secrets to him.”
Her stomach dropped. “What about the Angel’s Share?”
“It’s been a top-secret team. It’s fine.”
Thank God. She brought her hands up to push against his chest, but all she found was impenetrable, rock-hard muscle. “Gabe—let me go. This is crazy.”
He slid his hands into her hair and cradled the back of her head, his gaze branding her with a confusion that mirrored her own. “This is about more than sex,” he admitted roughly. “I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s about more than me wanting you.”
Her heart missed a beat. “Your silence said it all in the restaurant. Spare us both and let’s not drag this out.”
“Dannazione, you are prickly.” His mouth twisted. “Spilling my guts in a public place is not my style.”
She closed her mouth, mutinously staring back at him.
His gaze darkened. “I won’t make promises I can’t keep. And Dio knows this is new territory for me, Lex, but this thing between you and me? What you said back at the restaurant about your feelings being involved? So are mine. And I think it’s time we faced them.”
“What if I don’t want to?” she retorted childishly. “What if I’m just fine with the status quo?”
His jaw hardened. “You want to be a coward for the rest of your life?”
“Maybe I do.”
“No, you don’t, angel,” he countered softly. “You’re just terrified.”
She was. Because what would be left when this was all over?
She bit hard into her lip. “Let me go.”
He shook his head. “I’m not letting you run.”
“I want to,” she admitted, heart pounding, every cell in her body screaming for escape. “I want to run as far and as fast as I can because I’m so scared I could scream.”
“Then let me give you something better to scream about.” He backed her up against the living room wall. Dipped his hands under her skirt and dragged it up. She wanted them on her so badly it hurt.
“Gabe—”
“No more talking.” He found the curve of her neck with his lips as his hands sought the soft skin of her upper thighs and his knee nudged in between to spread them apart.
She sucked in a breath as he cupped the heated warmth of her. Found her damp and ready. Then he hooked his fingers in her panties and stripped them from her, the deliberateness of his movement making the breath whoosh from her lungs. “This isn’t going to be long and drawn out, is it?”
He straightened, his leg sliding back in between hers. “No. It isn’t.”
Her knees felt weak, her limbs like molten chocolate as he slid his hands up the backs of her thighs and urged them further apart. They threatened to give way when he dipped his fingers into the slick wetness of her and made a tortured sound at the back of his throat. “Dio, you are so turned on.”
She arched into his hand as he established a slow, deep rhythm. “That happens when a hot man pounds his way into my apartment and pins me against a wall.”
“You think I’m hot?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“Insanely, compulsively hot,” she admitted huskily. Her body clenched around his fingers as he pleasured her, remembering the heights he could take her to. He cursed and shifted his hands to her buttocks to take the weight of her, brace her against the wall and wrap her legs around him. She arched against him, dying to have his hard, delicious length inside of her again. “And this part,” she murmured, pressing against him. “I’m a big fan of this part.”
His gaze darkened as she worked her hands between them and went for the button of his pants. “Feel free,” he muttered thickly as she yanked his zipper down, “to put it to good use.”
She sought him out, wrapped her fingers around his silken length. Absorbed the pulsing, rock-hard readiness of him. Then she slid him against her slick flesh, smiling at the shudder that went through him. It made her feel powerful, sexy, that she could do this to him. He muttered a plea, some dark, erotic Italian word that sounded delicious. She obliged, took him inside of her. The sensation of his big body filling hers made her feel complete in a way she didn’t want to examine.
“I think you can take over now,” she murmured, desperate for his possession. He took more of her weight in his hands, bent his knees and stroked into her with a force that made her gasp. Hard and primal, this was nothing like the last time. It was just this side of rough, exciting in the extreme. The wall behind her did little to cushion her spine. His breathing was harsh and fast in her ear, his voice as he told her how much he loved being inside of her edged with desperation. And she loved it, loved that she’d been right. Gabe De Campo could lose control.
Right now, he was far, far gone.
She curved her fingers around his jaw and kissed him deep. Trusted him with her body. Begged him for more. Gasped as he shifted position, angling his hips so she felt him in a different place. Everywhere. Right where she needed him. “Come with me,” he demanded raggedly against her mouth. And with one last hard drive inside of her, he made her body fall apart, splintering into a million pieces of delicious, mind-bending pleasure.
Her hoarse cry of release filled the air. He groaned and joined her, spilled into her with a hot wet heat that enveloped her, overwhelmed her. She buried her mouth in his sweaty, salty skin and clung to him. Held on as his biceps shook and her position against the wall became increasingly precarious.
“You drop me, you die.”
His rough laughter filled the air. “Show me where.”
She took that to mean her bedroom, where few men had been admitted and none had stayed. “That way,” she pointed, tightening her legs around him as he carried her. He paused to let her flick on the light, blinked at the mayhem he saw there. “I’m not usually this messy,” she murmured, mortified. “It’s the traveling.”
He set her down on the floor, keeping his hands around her waist as her legs adjusted to life back on the ground. Her gaze lifted to his. “You thinking of staying?”
His mouth quirked. “I wasn’t thinking of driving all the way back across town, no.”
And there it was. The offer she wasn’t supposed to refuse. If a woman had ever denied Gabe De Campo her bed, she was pretty sure she had to have been deaf, dumb and blind. But for her, allowing a man to stay over was like bungee jumping off Victoria Falls.
“I have to be at a meeting at eight,” she warned. “Up at six-thirty...I am a big-time hogger of covers and I don’t apologize for it. And the only breakfast item I stock is cream for coffee.”