Mine To Take (Nine Circles) Read online

  “Gabriel,” she said again, softer this time. A whisper.

  He said nothing. Instead he put her arms over her head, one strong hand holding both her wrists, pinning her to the door. Then he slid his free hand behind her knee, lifting her leg up and around his waist.

  Honor took a ragged breath, her hips tilting, the press of his erection against her aching flesh almost too much to bear. He released her leg, then he was pushing into her, a deep, hard thrust that shoved her over the edge of climax, making her cry out as it tore through her.

  He didn’t stop, didn’t pause. He kept moving, a relentless, driving motion that had pleasure beginning to wind tight for a second time.

  Honor squeezed her eyes shut again and closed her mouth against the moans that crowded in her throat.

  “Scream,” Gabriel demanded harshly in her ear. “I want you to scream.”

  Oh no, if she embraced this then she was going to embrace all of it. She was going to push him. Deny him. Test him. So he would take the control from her. Leaving her with nothing but absolute freedom.

  She shook her head, a sharp refusal.

  His grip on her wrists changed and she felt him pull one of her hands down and push it between them. She fought him because she wanted to, because it was exciting, but she was no match for his strength. She jerked as he brought her fingers down to where they were joined, making her feel it. The push of his cock inside her, the slick flesh of her sex stretching around him.

  “Scream.” His voice was ragged. “Touch yourself and scream for me, sweetheart.” He shifted her hand higher, so her fingers brushed her clit, his hand covering hers, guiding her movements on her own flesh, relentless as a piercing kind of pleasure flooded through her.

  There was no escaping it. No escaping him.

  Honor embraced the chaos, a scream tearing from her throat, the thrust of him inside her and the feel of her fingers on her clit deepening the pleasure into ecstasy, a tidal wave she had no hope of stopping or holding back. And she let it. Surrendered to it.

  Let it wash her away and all her futile plans with it.

  She was barely aware of his own hoarse cry following hers. Barely aware of anything but the aftershocks pulsing through her. He didn’t move either, holding her against the door, the heat of his body and the feel of his arms around her all that was keeping her upright.

  Silence fell, broken only by their gradually slowing breathing, and it became almost peaceful. Restful. Like she could stay here in his arms, take some comfort from his heat and his strength, and it would be okay. It wouldn’t be a failure of nerve on her part.

  Eventually though, Gabriel moved and she felt him withdraw from her, unable to stifle the soft moan of protest it brought from her.

  Still, he didn’t speak. Only looked down at her for a long minute, the expression on his face completely enigmatic. Then he pushed himself away from her and, without a word, walked down the hallway toward the lounge area.

  Honor stared after him, still too shaken to move. What the hell?

  After a long minute she stepped away from the door, smoothing down her skirt and trying to get herself back in order again. Then she picked up her purse and briefcase and followed him into the lounge.

  It was empty.

  She dumped her belongings down near the sectional sofa. Her legs felt shaky, her heart going too fast. And she was … angry. No, not just angry, she was pissed.

  Stalking into the kitchen, she found Gabriel standing at the counter with his back to her, his hands braced on the edge of it, his head bent. Utterly still, tension in every line of his big body. As if he was in pain.

  She had a sudden flashback to Vermont. When she’d gone down on him and he’d gotten up and left. Without a word. Like he had just now. As if … what they’d done had been too much for him.

  Honor blinked, her heartbeat still way too fast for comfort, the sharp edges of her anger softening.

  He hadn’t waited. Just pulled her inside and pushed her up against the door. His hand had been shaking as he’d put on the condom and he’d tasted of desperation …

  Had that been her? Had she done that to him?

  Suddenly she had to know.

  She crossed the space between them, coming over to where he stood, putting a hand in the center of his back. “What’s going on, Gabriel?” There was coiled tension beneath her palm, his muscles taut.

  He didn’t move. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” There was a harsh note in his voice as if the apology had been forced out.

  Damn. It probably had.

  “Then why did you?”

  Slowly he straightened, keeping his back to her. “I … wanted you. And I … couldn’t wait.”

  Honor drew in a slow, silent breath. She should stop touching him. She should turn around and walk away like she’d planned. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to move. “You have to know that when I came here, I wasn’t planning on … that,” she said softly. “I was going to say what I had to say then I was going to walk out. And not see you again.”

  His head bent and he ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck.” Abruptly he turned around, and the expression on his bruised face made her ache. There was something lost in it. Like a man finding himself in an unfamiliar country and without a map or landmarks. Or a compass to help him find his direction.

  “I would have stopped if you’d said the word. You have to know that.” His dark eyes searched her face. “Did you … want me to stop?”

  She couldn’t lie. “No. I should have said something but … I didn’t. I wanted you, too.”

  His hand dropped and dark, gold-streaked lashes veiled his gaze. “You should go, Honor. You should do what you planned to do. Turn around and walk away.”

  Her heart contracted. She folded her arms across the ache. “Why?”

  His lashes lifted and this time the lost expression had vanished, nothing but blackness in his eyes. “Because I’m not the man for you. I will hurt you.”

  Too late. Too damn late.

  She swallowed. “You wouldn’t let me walk away, not if you didn’t want me to.”

  The intensity of his gaze held her fast. “You have a one-minute window. Starting from now.”

  You should do what he said. Now.

  But she knew she wasn’t going to. She’d already made the decision back there in the hallway. How could she leave anyway? When there was a man behind that blackness. A man who was lost. A man who wanted her so badly he couldn’t wait and then had to walk away because what they did together broke him apart. Made his hands shake.

  She could not leave that man alone.

  All her life she’d wanted to fix things for people. Help them. Her mother. Guy. Violet. Even Alex. And here was another person who needed her. The man behind Gabriel’s dark eyes. The man he tried to hide.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Honor said softly. “So, if you want me to leave, you’re going to have to throw me out yourself.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Christ, he was a stupid bastard. He should be doing exactly what she said. He was as far as it was possible to get from being a saint and yet he’d always had his line in the sand. Hurting women had been that line.

  But he was going to cross it if he kept on down the road he was traveling. And the woman he wound up hurting would be Honor.

  She stood there with her arms folded, the very epitome of the smart businesswoman in her little pencil skirt, with the chic white blouse and the sexy blue high heels on her feet, same as the deep midnight blue of her eyes that he was starting to see in his dreams at night.

  The color that darkened into black when she was aroused. Like they had when he’d had her against the door because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Because he’d gotten impatient waiting for her to arrive and fucking lost his head, a part of him hungry for her heat, her softness. The feel of her skin, the tight clasp of her body. Her arms around him.

  Hungry for someone who didn’t want to punch his face
in for a start.

  It had been too much. He had no idea why he’d suddenly been so desperate for her. Why his instinct had been to drown himself in her the moment she’d stepped into the hallway. It had only been a couple of days, after all. Yet he’d wanted her so badly he’d been shaking.

  He still did. On a level he didn’t understand.

  And that was the real fucking problem. He was in danger of letting this become too important. In danger of letting her become too important. Which couldn’t happen.

  “Well?” she said into the silence. “Is my minute up yet?”

  You can’t let her go. You know you can’t.

  He’d thought he could have both his justice and her, and still be detached. Still be focused. But detachment wasn’t shoving her up against a doorway and screwing her senseless because he couldn’t wait. Or walking away because he couldn’t bear how naked he’d felt afterward. How raw.

  Then if you keep her, you’ll have to accept what she does to you.

  Yeah, he would have to. And hope whatever this need for her was, it would burn itself out in time. Because there was no fucking way he was letting her go.

  “Yes,” he said curtly. “It’s up.”

  “Good.” She took a step back and slipped off the coat she still had wrapped around her, slung it over one of the kitchen stools. Then she came close to him, reaching up to gently touch the bruise on his cheek. Her fingers were so cool he almost shivered. “Are you going to tell me who gave you this?”

  He could lie but what was the point? “Alex.”

  Her mouth tightened and her hand dropped. “I thought you two were friends.”

  “We were.”

  “So what happened?”

  “He guessed what you and I are doing.”

  “What? How the hell could he know?” She began to take a couple of steps back from him but he couldn’t help himself. He reached for her, sliding an arm around her waist and bringing her close, her warmth against his body. Jesus, he knew he was supposed to stay cold, but sometimes all he wanted was some heat. A little bit of human warmth because he’d never had it before.

  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t resist and after a moment, laid her palms against his chest, a gentle pressure.

  “I probably should tell you a few things,” he said.

  “Such as?”

  Slowly, he began to undo the little buttons of her blouse, one by one. “Alex and I are part of a very small, select group. Officially we call ourselves the Nine Circles club, but Alex prefers ‘the fucked-up billionaires.’ Eva King is part of it. And so is another friend of mine, Zac Rutherford.”

  She said nothing as he pulled open the last button, her blouse falling open to reveal a long strip of pale skin. “We’re a kind of family more than a club; we watch out for each other.”

  “He hit you.” Her hand touched his cheek again.

  Gabriel brushed her throat then let his fingers trail down, her skin unbearably soft beneath his touch. “He was right to.”

  She shivered as he stroked the gentle swell of one breast. “No, he wasn’t. What we do has got nothing to do with him.”

  “He feels responsible for you.”

  “He lost that right years ago.” She traced the line of his jaw, brushing his lower lip. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him so gently, so carefully. As if he would break. “I can’t think why he still thinks he has it.”

  No wonder he always felt the need to tie her hands. If she kept touching him like this he probably would break. “He’s protective of you.”

  Her mouth tightened. “I suppose he already knew about Daniel and the casino?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What a surprise. Can we not talk about him right now?”

  Understandable. He didn’t really want to talk about Alex either. Or think about the disgust in Eva’s face. The look of disapproval on Zac’s. They hadn’t liked it when Honor’s name had come up.

  Because they can sense what a prick you are at heart.

  A weird feeling gripped him. Like the ground he walked on was unsteady. The group had been together for years and they fought and bickered and made up like a family. But Alex had never hit him. And Zac and Eva had never looked at him with disgust.

  Until now.

  He looked down at the line of skin revealed by her open shirt, trying to concentrate on that instead of what had happened with the others. He didn’t like the feeling that sat in his gut. Guilt.

  Hell. He was turning into his mother.

  Gabriel slid a finger under the edge of the white lace of her bra, stroking the silky skin underneath. “Anyway, we help each other out with things occasionally. Eva and Zac have been helping with Tremain. They have … particular skills that can be useful from time to time.”

  Honor’s fingers came to rest near the neckline of his T-shirt, her thumb resting on his collarbone. “They know?”

  “Yeah. Eva was investigating Tremain anyway, as you know, and she was the one who turned up the problems with the reservation system. She and Zac investigated further and found the money-laundering details.”

  “I guess … Alex knows that, too, then?”

  “I thought you didn’t want to talk about him?”

  “I don’t. I just wondered.”

  “Yeah, he does.” The guilt twisted a little tighter. He should have told his friend earlier and not in front of the other two, but he hadn’t. And he hadn’t missed the flare of pain in Alex’s eyes. That place, that casino, had so many memories for both of them and none of them good.

  Honor’s thumb moved back and forth on his collarbone, the touch oddly soothing. Her gaze was on the movement, dark lashes hiding her expression. She was silent a long moment. Then she said, “I went to see my mother a couple of days ago. I only wanted to … see her. She used to suffer from depression and if she ever found out about Dad, I don’t know what that would do to her. Anyway, I went to see if she was okay and…” She stopped. “Dad was there.”

  A sudden, intensely protective urge rose up in him. A feeling he hadn’t had since he’d been with the Angels and had a whole neighborhood to look out for. This time the feeling was centered entirely on Honor.

  Tension flooded through him. “Did he do anything? Did he hurt you? What?”

  She shook her head. “He’s not that type of man, Gabriel.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what type of man he is. If he hurt you I’ll—”

  Honor put a finger over his mouth, stopping the words. “He didn’t hurt me. And there’s no need to get all alpha about it, okay? But he did tell me that he wasn’t going to take your money. That he was going to find a new investor.” Her finger dropped away. “And that he didn’t want me to handle it anymore.” Pain moved in the depths of her eyes before her lashes fell again, veiling them. “Which I guess proves that you were right after all. He doesn’t want to save his company.”

  There was an unfamiliar tightness in his chest, the protective urge clawing at him, squeezing him. And he realized he hated that she was in pain, and that he wanted to do something for her.

  “Yeah, I got an email from him yesterday refusing my investment.” He paused. “Did you mention your own investment to him?”

  “He told me not to worry. That I’d get my money back.”

  “How much will you lose, Honor?”

  Her thick, black lashes were still. “Everything. Which makes me a fool, right?”

  Gabriel put a finger under her chin and tipped her head back. She looked up at him and this time, the anguish in her eyes wasn’t hidden. “No. You love him and wanted to help. He’s the one who’s a fucking idiot.”

  “It’s not even the fact that I’m going to lose my company that hurts the most. It’s the fact that he knows what I put into Tremain, the risk I took on, and he’s going to run it into the ground anyway.”

  “You don’t have to lose everything,” he said, stroking her chin with his thumb. “Not if you let me help you.”

  �
��How?”

  “I have money, Honor. You don’t need to lose your company if I invest in it.”

  Something flashed across her face, an expression he couldn’t read. He felt her stiffen, her muscles tensing as if to pull away so he shifted his hands, gripping her hips to hold her in place.

  “Gabriel,” she began. “I don’t want—”

  “Listen to me.” He cut her off. “I’m not giving you the money. It’ll be Woolf Construction investing in a very promising up-and-coming financial consultancy. Shit, call it venture capital if you like. I’ve done that before with other companies. But if it’ll stop you from losing everything you’ve built then why the fuck not?”

  She pulled her head away, but remained where she was, resting against him. “St. James is my business. I didn’t want anyone else to have a stake in it. Especially not…” She stopped.

  “Me?” he finished. “You especially don’t want me investing, right?”

  “I don’t know where this is going, Gabriel. You and I, I’m talking about. And I don’t like mixing business with my private life.”

  “You crossed that line a long time ago, little girl. When you invested in Tremain.” He knew she wouldn’t want to hear that but it had to be said. “And as far as you and I go, my investment in your company is a separate issue from us sleeping together.”

  She looked up and this time he could see the businesswoman behind her eyes. Cool and calm and in control. “The fact remains that you would still own at least half of my company. So what happens if … this all goes bad?”

  “You trust me with your body but not your company?”

  “I don’t want to be dependent on anyone. When Daniel’s debts were called in, before Dad came to the rescue, we lost everything. I don’t ever want that to happen to me again.”

  “And yet you invested in Tremain’s company. Invested heavily, putting yourself knowingly at risk.”

  Her gaze flickered. “I had to help fix it.”

  Of course she would. She was that kind of person. The kind who wanted to help, no matter what it cost her. He’d seen those kinds of people back in his old neighborhood, the priests, the social workers, people who worked for the charities. Running themselves ragged helping. Such self-sacrifice for so little gain.