Three

Tiana's Pov

     My heart leaped into my throat, then hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. My free hand, still on his chest, clenched, feeling the frantic beat beneath my palm. We were so close. So incredibly close. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the subtle tremor in his body, the desperate control that was finally, gloriously, shattering.

His eyes, dark and stormy, devoured my face. They flickered from my eyes to my lips, then back again, a silent, agonizing battle playing out in their depths. His thumb, where it rested on the back of my head, began to stroke, a soft, almost unconscious movement that sent shivers down my spine.

"Gabriel," I breathed, his name a soft plea, a question, a challenge.

He let out a low, guttural groan, a sound of pure, unadulterated torment and desire. His head dipped, slowly, agonizingly slowly, until his forehead rested against mine. His breath, hot and ragged, mingled with mine. I could feel the tremor in his body, the sheer force of his struggle.

"Tiana," he whispered, his voice raw, broken, barely audible. "You have no idea... what you do to me."

My eyes fluttered shut, savoring the moment, the confession. He felt it. He felt it just as intensely as I did. The triumph was exhilarating, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sheer, overwhelming power of his proximity, his vulnerability.

"I think I do," I whispered back, my voice thick with emotion. I opened my eyes, forcing him to meet my gaze. His eyes were still dark, still warring, but now, there was a desperate, undeniable hunger that mirrored my own.

His grip on my wrist loosened, and his hand slid up my arm, his fingers tracing a path of fire to my shoulder, then up my neck, until his thumb was stroking my jawline. His other hand, still cupping the back of my head, tightened, pulling me even closer, if that was even possible. Our bodies were pressed together, every curve, every line, perfectly aligned.

"This is wrong," he rasped, his voice barely a thread, but his body, his hands, were telling a completely different story. He was fighting, but he was losing. And I was winning.

"Is it?" I challenged my voice with a soft murmur against his lips. I could feel the warmth of his breath, the subtle scent of his skin, the intoxicating pull that had haunted my dreams for years.

His eyes closed for a brief, agonizing moment, as if in pain. When they opened again, the war was still there, but the desire had taken over. It was a fierce, untamed fire, burning bright and hot.

"God help me," he breathed, his voice a desperate prayer, his gaze fixed on my mouth.

And then, with a sudden, desperate urgency, he closed the last inch. His lips, soft yet firm, crashed against mine.

It was everything I had ever dreamed of, and more. A wildfire. A storm. His mouth moved against mine with a raw, untamed hunger, a desperate need that consumed me whole. My hand, still on his chest, flew up to tangle in his dark hair, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss.

His other hand, still at the back of my head, moved, his fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me back slightly, tilting my head to give him better access. His tongue, hot and insistent, swept into my mouth, claiming me with a fierce, possessive intensity that stole my breath, stole my thoughts, stole everything.

I kissed him back with every ounce of pent-up desire, every repressed fantasy.

"Tiana," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. "What have you done?"

Before I could answer, before I could even process the enormity of what had just happened, a loud, insistent ring echoed through the house – the doorbell.

We both froze. Gabriel's eyes, still blazing with passion, snapped to the sound, a flicker of panic, then pure frustration, crossing his face. My heart, already pounding from the kiss, now hammered with a new kind of fear. Who could it be? And how long had they been standing there?

He pulled back from me, slowly, reluctantly, his hands dropping from my head and wrist as if burned. The sudden absence of his touch left me feeling cold, exposed. The air, which had been thick with desire, now felt thin, sharp with the threat of discovery.

"Stay here," he rasped, his voice still rough, his eyes darting to the kitchen entrance, then back to me, a silent warning in their depths. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, trying to compose himself, but his chest was still heaving.

I nodded, mute, my lips still tingling from his kiss, my body still humming with the aftershocks. I watched him walk away, his movements stiff, his usual effortless grace replaced by a tense urgency. He disappeared around the corner, heading towards the front door.

I stood there, alone in the kitchen, my mind a whirlwind. *What just happened?* We kissed. Gabriel Flinch, my dad's best friend, the man from my dreams, just kissed me. And it was everything. More than everything. It was raw, desperate, and utterly forbidden.

The doorbell rang again, longer this time, more insistent.

I heard Gabriel's voice, muffled, from the front hall. "Can I help you?" His tone was back to his usual polite, controlled self, but I knew, I knew the storm that was still raging beneath that calm facade.

A woman's voice replied, bright and cheerful, but with an underlying edge of familiarity. "Gabriel, darling! You took your sweet time! I thought you'd forgotten about our dinner plans!"

My blood ran cold. Dinner plans? A woman? My stomach dropped. I hadn't even considered that he might have... other plans. Other women. Of course he did. He was Gabriel.

I crept silently to the edge of the kitchen, peering around the corner, just enough to see into the front hall.

Gabriel was standing there, his back to me, his posture rigid. Facing him was a stunning woman, tall and elegant, with perfectly styled blonde hair and a dress that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. She was smiling up at him, a possessive glint in her eyes, and then, without a moment's hesitation, she reached up, placed a hand on his cheek, and pulled him down for a kiss.