Clairessa – POV I couldn’t breathe. Not properly—not with the way my body still trembled from the aftershock of my climax. Gabriel’s mouth had always driven me mad—but not like this. Never like this. Or maybe it was because I'd been starved from the pleasure only he could give for so long, everything felt so different, almost like I was floating. It was as if he’d memorized every inch of me and then decided to rewrite the story. Like he wanted me to know he still remembered every inch of me, every nerve, every gasp I’d ever given him, and was determined to draw them out of me again. My hips had bucked against his mouth until I lost all sense of pride, of resistance. I’d begged him. Me. Begged. Despite promising myself I’d never let him see me fold, I still welcomed him into my bed. He left me with little to no chance to win with that tongue of his—kissing, stroking, swirling around every inch of my heat. And now, I was wrecked—my limbs heavy. My skin tingled, hypersen
Gabriel’s POV Clairessa’s room was dim, but a golden light shone above the bed, casting a warm glow along her curves like a spotlight designed just for her. I slid the duvet down slowly, revealing her inch by inch like unwrapping something sacred. No—something sinful. She was wearing it. The red lingerie I picked out and laid on the dresser, knowing she’d find it. Knowing if she put it on, it meant something. That she still wanted me. That she hadn’t forgotten what I could do to her body. And fuck… she hadn’t just worn it—she owned it. My eyes devoured her, and for a second I couldn’t breathe. The lace hugged her breasts, sheer enough for me to see her nipples—taut and begging. Her flat stomach rose with each shallow breath, trembling slightly. The curve of her waist, the long line of her thighs. And those legs—long, smooth, spread just enough to tell me she knew what I wanted. Heat surged through me, violent and immediate. My cock throbbed painfully, already
Clairessa's POV Gabriel didn’t move. Neither did I. Panic surged through me, heat flooding my cheeks. My fingers were still damp. My mind screamed to run—and this time, I did. I turned and bolted, heart racing, breath shallow, legs barely holding me up. I yanked the door open and stumbled out, slamming it shut behind me. Then I stopped. Out in the hallway, I stood frozen. Chest heaving. The world around me was spinning off balance. My body was still reeling—still soaked in aftershock—as I rushed blindly down the hall, like I could outrun the memory of what I’d just done. I rounded the corner—too fast, too dazed—and slammed straight into someone. Jane, the housekeeper. “Oh!” she gasped, stepping back as a folded towel slipped from her arms. My eyes widened. She looked me over—flushed cheeks, messy hair, wild, glassy eyes—and I just knew. She knew exactly what I’d done. “Claire?” Her voice was gentle, uncertain. “Are you… all right?” “Yes,” I blurted, my v
Clairessa’s POV I could barely breathe—let alone think—as I raced up the stairs. Every nerve in my body burned, tingling and buzzing from the way Gabriel had pinned me to the wall like I was his. For a moment… I let him. No—I wanted him. His heat, his scent, the weight of his body pressed against mine… I’d imagined it a hundred times, maybe more. And now that it had actually happened, I hated how much of him still clung to me. My skin still burned where his fingers had wrapped around my wrist. My lips tingled from the force of his kisses—brutal, hungry, and impossibly tender. God, I hated myself for not stopping it. I should’ve screamed. Slapped him. Anything. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Instead, the moment he touched me, I moaned his name. Told him how much I missed him. And I meant every word. That’s what killed me the most— How easily I forgot every reason I had to stay away. And the worst part? I still wanted him to make love to me. To make me come—again and again
Gabriel’s POV I shoved the thoughts of Adrian out of my mind. This moment was mine—no matter the cost. Nothing was going to stop me. Not now. I placed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her chest, trailing slowly along the dip of her cleavage, and paused when I felt her breath hitch. Her skin was warm under my lips, flushed—responding to every touch. As I looked up, the reality hit me like a jolt of lightning—she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples strained against the thin black fabric, betraying how much she wanted this. A violent need tore through my chest. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I caught one nipple through the dress,ateeth grazing it, biting down just enough to make her whimper—a mix of pain and pleasure—and then my tongue asoothed where I’d marked her, slow and reverent. Her fingers curled into my hair like she wasn’t sure whether to pull me closer or push me away. “Stop this,” she breathed, her voice barely holding. My mouth stilled. I looked up at her, fingers still ro
Gabriel’s POV I clenched my fists to stop myself from doing something reckless. “No, you can’t,” I barked. “Adrian came home drunk out of his damn mind. And you—” My eyes narrowed. “Have you been drinking?” She tossed her hair back, casual and defiant. “Maybe.” That answer should’ve fueled the fury already building in my chest and pushed me closer to losing it. Not sparked a twisted urge to taste the alcohol on her lips. “You’ve got some nerve,” I muttered, pushing back the dark thoughts. She folded her arms. “You don’t have any right to be jealous. Adrian’s an adult. So am I. Besides, he’s my—” “Ex-boyfriend,” I corrected through gritted teeth. “And you told me you didn’t want him. So what the hell is going on now?” She tilted her head, slowly, deliberately. Her voice dropped to a soft, almost teasing lilt. “Maybe my feelings have changed.” A violent surge of jealousy tore through me—hot, reckless, blinding. It twisted into something darker. Rougher. A raw, aching desire