It’s fairly ridiculous how much I swoon when he speaks; he’s probably saying something banal like, hey, thanks for the meal. But it sounds like pure sex coming from his mouth.

I sit back with a sigh. He seems equally content, his hands folded over his flat belly, his expression calm as he stares at the sea.

“I don’t understand it,” I find myself saying.

He looks my way. “Don’t understand what?”

“This.” I wave my hand around. “You have this stunning house that you rarely visit, and other houses that are presumably equally gorgeous, and yet none of the guys has been to any of them. Why bother?”

A frown wrinkles the space between his brows. “Killian’s dad once told me the best thing a man can invest in is property. It is tangible, true, eternal. I agree.”

“I get that, but why have these properties if you’re never going to enjoy them, never bring your friends here?” I lean forward. “Why don’t you let them in, Gabriel? They love you, and you keep them at arm’s length.”

A flush tints his cheeks, and he lurches up from his chair to pace. “I’m not a social man, Sophie. You know that about me.”

I watch him walk. “I’m not talking about hosting wild parties. I’m asking about you systematically building a wall between you and the people who mean the most.” He glares at me over his shoulder, and I soften my tone. “And I think you know that.”

Our gazes clash, but I don’t blink. He curses under his breath and squeezes the back of his neck.

“Gabriel, you are a charming, witty, kind man—don’t roll your eyes at me, you are.” I stand and walk over to him. Not too close, because he’s cagey right now. “You are kind. The guys, Brenna—they’re your family, and you treat them so well, care for them better than anyone I’ve ever met. Why won’t you let them care for you too?”

A breath bursts from him, and he whirls to face me. “I don’t know how,” he snaps.

“What do you mean?”

“Sodding…” He rakes a hand through his hair and grips it hard. “My mum, my dad…They…They fucking left me, yeah? The two people who were supposed to love me the most. Left. And I know the guys and Brenna love me. But if I let them in then…”

He paces away before coming back, his eyes wide and pained. “If they’re fully in then I’m fully in. It will hurt more, Sophie. Do you understand? It will hurt more if…”

He looks off, scowling so hard his lips pinch.

“Gabriel, they won’t leave—”

“I can barely handle letting you in. Opening up is so foreign to me; I don’t know what the bloody hell I’m doing. But I’m trying for you because you’re…” He struggles for the words, looking panicked.

I wrap my arms around him and hug him close. I expect resistance, but he yields, burrowing his nose in my hair and breathing deep, hugging me as if I might disappear.

“It’s all right.” I stroke his tense neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“No, you should. Protecting myself is hurting them. I see it. But I don’t know how to change.”

My fingertips trace the narrow groove of his spine down his strong back. “Just do what you did with me.”

The shift of tension in his body is subtle but significant. I can almost feel him smiling, and I definitely feel the heat building between us.

His voice grows deeper, intent. “I don’t think they’d appreciate that approach, Darling.”

A hand slides down to cup my butt.

I smile. “Probably best you keep this particular treatment just for me.”

“Only ever for you,” he promises, his other hand moving down. He grasps my ass, kneading it with a growl of approval.

I jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Take me to bed, sunshine.”

He begins walking, but doesn’t go into the house; he lays me down on the double-wide lounger beneath the shade of the bougainvillea before prowling over me, his lips finding my neck. One good tug at the bodice of my sundress, and my breast pops free.

“Gabriel—” I groan as he sucks my nipple into his hot, wet mouth. “Not here.”

“Yes, here,” he says around the stiff tip, flicking it with his tongue.

I squirm, but my fingers find their way into his hair, holding him tight as he continues to lick and suck me. Another tug at my top and my other breast is exposed.

I glance at the open doorway that leads to the kitchen. “I won’t be able to look Martina in the eye if she catches us out here.”

He kisses his way over to my neglected breast, and catches the stiffened nipple with his teeth, pulling just enough that I lose my mind a little. I arch up, silently begging for more.

A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. Peppering my nipple with suckling kisses, he slides his hand under my dress and cups between my legs, where I am damp and achy. “I told her to take the rest of day off.”

I rock into his touch with a moan, craning my head down to kiss his temple. “Fuck… I say we give her the week off.”

He hums in his throat, slips his fingers beneath my panties. “Good plan.”

We don’t talk for a long time after that.

 

* * *

 

“Where are you going? I’m not done with you yet.” His voice is a love song, soft and tender, deep with possessiveness and the promise of luscious sin. It dances over me like a caress, and I shiver in its wake.

“I want to touch you,” I complain, though it’s not really a complaint. How can it be when he’s reduced me to this quivering, boneless mass of warm lethargy?

His dark chuckle is knowing. “Later. It’s my turn now.”

Big, hot hands slide up my legs, cup my ass. I close my eyes and hug the rumpled bed covers as those talented hands delve between my thighs and spread them wide.

Exposed. Swollen and wet. He’s taken me twice now. Once on the terrace, and then on the bed, where he was slower, more thorough, taking his time, making me beg for it. And beg, I did, pleading and panting, losing my ever-loving mind.

He rewarded me for it, making me come until I wept, stroking my skin, telling me I was his good girl in that low, stern voice I’ll forevermore equate with sex and pleasure.

He uses it now, a weapon in its own right. “So pretty,” he says, from his spot between my thighs. “I knew you’d be so pretty.”