I stand there holding the phone in my hand, trying to digest his most recent message. Gabriel didn’t even want to becapo? I don’t understand. Why isn’t Leo here trying to get me out of here?
As I’m trying to wrap my head around the messages and what they mean, another one comes through.
They should have left someone in charge that wanted the job—ME.
I’m confused, and I feel as if someone has pulled the ground out from under me. Leo’s never mentioned anything at all about wanting to becapoof the Adamiborgata, at least not to me. He’s always seemed to like staying out of the limelight. He’s shied away from conflict. These messages don’t sound like the Leo I know at all. How could I not know something so important about my best friend? His messages make him sound jealous of Gabriel, but Leo’s never uttered a single word of this to me in all the years we’ve known each other and been each other’s closest confidantes. I just don’t understand.
“Find what you’re looking for in here?” a voice says from the doorway. It startles me so much that I drop the phone, and the edge of it cracks painfully on the bridge of my foot.
“Gabriel!” I exclaim in surprise. I don’t really have a good explanation about being in here in the middle of the night. But even more disarming than the fact that I’ve been caught snooping around is the way he looks. He stands shirtless in the doorway, muscles chiseled like a Greek god, and a bulging mass at the front of his cotton sweatpants. The dimly lit room makes him seem sinfully tempting, and I can feel my whole body cascade into a ripple of trembles.
“What are you doing in here, Camille?” he asks calmly. His voice sounds sultry and thick with desire—or maybe that’s my desire casting a lens on all of the sensory information I’m taking in.
“I—I’m trying to figure out who you really are and why you’re really keeping me here with you,” I say, stumbling over my words as if I was falling down a staircase.
Gabriel takes a step closer inside the room and I can’t keep my eyes off the way the front of his pants moves as he walks, the way the fabric clings to the swollen outline of his cock. If the sexual tension in the air was any thicker, I’d choke on it. As it is, I find my breathing labored, and what he says next doesn’t help matters in that regard.
“Maybe I am keeping you here for my own pleasure,” he says with a devilish smirk as he steps closer still. I start to tingle all over, and I know that if I don’t leave this room right now, I’ll be testing my theory of whether or not I’d let Gabriel dominate me. And from the way I’m feeling now, the answer would be a resounding yes.
I go to take a brisk step and push past him out of the room, feeling as if I won’t be able to breathe if I stay inside here a moment longer. But Gabriel reaches for me and, once again, I fall into his embrace.
10
GABRIEL
My first reaction to finding Camille snooping around my office is an angry one. But as I stand in the doorway, just about to open my mouth and spew a harsh scolding for poking her nose into places it doesn’t belong, I hesitate. Because even though I don’t like being intruded upon, I’m impressed by her cleverness and courage. There’s also the fact that she’s wearing nothing but a T-shirt as she rifles through things inside my office, making it nearly impossible for me to contain my desire for her.
I’ve had plenty of women before, all one-night stands, and all beautiful. But also, all easily forgotten about. That doesn’t hold true with Camille. Ever since I slept with her, it’s been as if something about her has taken hold of me and refused to let go. And quite honestly, I’m starting to feel myself refusing to let go of her now as well. I’ve tried not thinking about her. I’ve tried turning away and focusing on my own dealings instead. But I can’t. I can’t purge Camille Greco from my system.
When she tries to push past me out the door, it’s instinct for me to reach out and grab her, bringing her toward me and relishing in the feel of her body pressed against mine once again. Every single time I manage to get her skin on mine, her chest heaving in sync with mine, or her lap pressed into my own, it’s as if our bodies are exactly where they’re supposed to be and perfectly aligned. And now, with her bare thighs against the thin front of my joggers, and my physical longing for her growing bigger and harder by the second, I plan to take her again—right here, without a moment of hesitation.
I wrap my arms behind her back and push my tongue between her parted lips. Her spunky attitude might be sharp, but everything else about her, from her lips to her breasts, are soft and warm, and I simply can’t get enough of her. It takes seconds or even less to slide my joggers off and drop her panties down to the floor. This time, we won’t make it to a bed or even the couch. I intend to take her right here on the floor of my office, as the desperate yearning and need of this moment requires.
Camille’s hand twists in my hair as the other runs down my torso and into the top of my pubic hair. She wants this too. And without thought to how this might even further complicate things, I start to lower her to the floor with my mouth still pressed to hers and my arm around her hip to steady her.
“Gabriel!” a voice shouts through my apartment, cutting through the sounds of silence mixed with our labored breathing, and instantly interrupting the urgent moment. “Where are you? Wake up!”
“Is that Leo?” she asks as her half-lidded eyes suddenly peel open. Camille looks at me in shock, her cheeks flustered and pink from the rush of temptation we were embarking on.
“Yes, unfortunately,” I grumble. “These fucking guards of mine, I swear.”
“A locked door might help,” she says, trying to make light of the fact that my very erect cock is still throbbing painfully as a look of disappointment rests on her lovely face.
“The doorwaslocked,” I say. “Again, another failure on my part. I should never have given my brother a key to the building. It’s supposed to be for emergencies only, but I can see that he has his own interpretation of what that term means.”
I slide my joggers back on and turn to face the open doorway, not bothering to push down my very prominent and visible erection, and vowing to fire the guards who always seem to let my brother skate past them without so much as even giving me a heads-up. Within a minute, Leo arrives at the room and his jaw drops. Good. I was hoping to garner this sort of reaction from him if he insists on barging into my place without an invitation. He stares between my tented joggers and Camille’s half-naked bottom, and I feel satisfied that my abundant erection has caused Leo to drop silent. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen me in this sort of condition before, since I do have a reputation for unabashed sexual prowess. But I can guarantee that he never expected to find me like this with his half-naked best friend. “What the hell’s going on here?” he asks, his face a mix of shocked and enraged.
“Leo, you’re here,” Camille says as she fumbles with what to say. “I didn’t think that you—”
“Of course I came here, Camille,” he says sharply to her. “It’s not as if I was just going to let my older brother hijack my best friend without attempting to rescue her.”
“Rescue is an opinion,” I say with a grin. “Camille isn’t a prisoner here. And it did take you a couple of days. If it was a real rescue, I’d say you need to work on improving your timing.”
Leo shoots me a look that I know he wished would kill. “What are you doing with her, Gabriel?” he asks. I know he’s referring to the entire situation, but I’m having much too much fun with this particular scenario. And if Leo is intent on interrupting the moment I’ve been wanting much more than I should, I’ll make the scene live up to his most dreaded expectations.
“We were just about to have sex until you barged into my penthouse and interrupted,” I say bluntly. I can see Camille looking mortified from the corner of my eye. It’s the truth. It’s not my fault that my brother intruded on it.
But it’s Leo’s reaction that surprises me the most. I expect him to look angry or indignant or even disgusted, but he doesn’t look any of those. Instead, he looks crushed. The look on his face is that of a kicked puppy that doesn’t even know what to do with itself now. He looks like I’ve punched him in the chest and he’s trying to breathe. He looks like a man who has been harboring secret feelings for Camille all this time. As far as I’ve always known, Camille and my brother have just been platonic friends. But his is not the face of a “buddy.” It’s the face of a scorned obsession.
