Best Man Under the Mistletoe

Gabe pressed her back against the glass and started working on the button on her jeans. In no time she was wiggling those hips and helping him remove the unwanted garment. Now that she was only clad in lacy panties and a matching bra that would bring any man to his knees, Gabe lifted her by her waist and nipped at her swollen lips.

“You knew exactly why you were coming here.”

Chelsea bit down on her lip and met his gaze.

“Say it,” he commanded. “Tell me exactly why you’re here.”

He wanted her begging, pleading.

Gabe ground his hips against hers as she locked her ankles behind his back.

“Tell me, Chels.”

Eight

“You,” she ground out. “I want to be with you in every way. Now, Gabe.”

He knew full well just how to get her begging and, for once, she was all too anxious to give up control. She needed him, needed this. Trust issues, worrying who was exactly behind what would come later. She couldn’t think of one time in her life she’d done something rash, for purely selfish reasons, without analyzing it to death.

Gabe Walsh was the perfect reason to be selfish. He was also the perfect man to prove that she was still in control after the scandal. She wanted to be here. She wanted him. And she was going to have him.

“Damn right you do.”

He released her, easing her legs back to the floor, but only long enough to perform the quickest strip she’d ever seen. By the time he was completely bare and he’d procured protection from his wallet and covered himself, Chelsea’s body was aching in ways she’d never known. She continued to stare into his gray eyes as he rid her of the last pieces of lace. Then he was on her.

Once again, he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He slid into her like they were made for each other. Chelsea tipped her head back against the glass as a groan escaped her.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

The fact they were doing this against the window had a shiver of excitement coursing through her. Still, she was thankful for the mirrored glass on the other side.

Chelsea locked her eyes on Gabe and smiled. “You’re bossy,” she panted.

He smacked her backside as he jerked his hips faster. “You wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re enjoying this just as much as I am.”

She was. Oh, mercy, she was. This experience with this man made her feel so much more in control of her body, of how a man looked at her. How did Gabe make her feel so treasured and so erotic at the same time? She didn’t know she would be this comfortable with intimacy so soon after the Maverick scandal, but Gabe made her feel alive and sexy.

When she opened her mouth to speak, he reached between them and touched her in just the right spot to have her eyes rolling back and a groan escaping her. Her entire body tightened as she clutched his shoulders and let him do whatever he wanted...because he clearly knew her body better than she did.

“Chels,” he strained to say as his own body trembled. His grip on her hips tightened.

She remained wrapped all around him, taking in every bit of his release. Feeling all of that taut skin beneath her hands, having such a powerful man at her mercy right now was absolutely incredible. Gabe Walsh was doing things to her mind and body that she wasn’t ready for, but she’d started this roller coaster and it was too late to jump off now.

He was perfect, and had come along at the perfect time—when she didn’t even realize she needed someone. But she did. She needed him to show her she was a passionate woman and not defined by those photos.

Their bodies ceased trembling, but she wasn’t ready to let go. Not quite yet.

“Stay here tonight,” he whispered in her ear.

The warm breath tickling her skin had her fisting her hands on his shoulders. There was nothing more she wanted than to stay and do this all over again, maybe in a bed this time, but she couldn’t let her post-coital feelings dominate her common sense. She still had questions and she still had concerns.

“You’re thinking too hard.” He turned from the window, still holding on to her, and headed toward the hallway leading deeper into the loft. “Apparently, I didn’t do my job if you’re still able to have coherent thoughts.”

“My thoughts are jumbled, if that counts.”

He tightened his hold on her and Chelsea had to suppress a moan of pleasure. Being skin-to-skin after sex was even more intimate than the act itself. This moment was... Chelsea suddenly realized she couldn’t do this. Not with a man she was still so unsure about.

Gabe turned into a bedroom—his bedroom. The dark navy and rich wood tones screamed masculine dominance. She’d just voluntarily come to the lion’s den.