Mine To Take (Nine Circles) Page 25

  Yeah, she had. Which meant she had nothing left to lose.

  Honor ran her thumb over him again, watching as the fire in his eyes burned higher. “Actually,” she said. “I think that this time I do.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It wasn’t going to happen. She might want to know, but that didn’t mean he had to tell her. And he wasn’t going to. Not yet.

  You want to tell her. You want to tell her everything.

  Christ, she had her hand around his cock and he was hard and aching for her. And it wasn’t only sexual. Oh, sure, there was that, but also another kind of ache. One that went deeper than sex. An ache he didn’t even realized he could feel and yet, one that felt like it had been there for a long time.

  Like he wanted more. Her fierce loyalty. Her understanding. Her care. But he couldn’t have any of those things, could he? Not when he was tainted.

  What would happen if he told her what he was? Would she look at him the way his mother had looked at him? When she thought he didn’t notice. Her eyes full of fear and other things, complicated things that he, as a child, didn’t recognize.

  He knew that part of her had wanted to get rid of him. That she wished he’d never been born. But she’d kept him because abortion was a sin. He was her cross to bear and bear it she would, a burden he could feel the weight of on his own soul as well as hers.

  That weight had crushed his mother. It wouldn’t crush him. But he wouldn’t let another have it either. Especially not Honor, with her own burdens to bear.

  “No,” he said. “This is one secret you’re not going to find out.”

  But she’ll know. Eventually.

  He’d never thought too deeply about how she might feel, finding out that her stepfather was a rapist. Because he hadn’t cared how that might affect her. His mother and the shitty life she’d had had been the only things that mattered.

  But now it was different. Now, even though he didn’t want to, he realized he cared. He didn’t want her to find out. Didn’t want her to have this final betrayal. Didn’t want to utterly destroy her image of the man she loved like a father.

  Perhaps she wouldn’t have to. Perhaps he could keep it from her. He’d never intended for the knowledge to become public because there had never been any definitive proof. He’d only intended to confront Tremain with what he’d done, fling the knowledge in his face as he pulled the man’s company down around his ears.

  “I could get it from you,” she murmured, her hand squeezing him tighter, the low ache of desire beginning to bite.

  He could end this. Take her mouth and render her mindless with pleasure. Make her forget everything but the touch of his hands. But for the first time it felt wrong to use that against her. Almost as if what was between them was too important to be used as a weapon like that.

  Why the fuck are you thinking shit like this? You weren’t supposed to get involved.

  Gabriel reached down, pulled her hand away. “Go back to bed, Honor.”

  She stared at him. Silent. Then she stepped back and he thought that for once, she was going to do what he told her to. But instead she reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up and over her head.

  Moonlight and neon painted her bare skin. Silver and gold and blue and red.

  And even though he’d spent all night exploring that beautiful body of hers, his breath still caught at the sight of her, his cock pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans.

  He took an unthinking step toward her but she held out a hand, her chin lifting, the look in her eyes determined. “Oh no, you’re not touching me. Not yet. Not until you tell me what I want to know.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything, Gabriel. I’m sick of secrets and I’m sick of lies. I told you I’d end up wanting everything and that includes whatever it is you’re hiding.”

  “And how, exactly, do you think you’re going to achieve that?”

  She tilted her head, her eyes dark, studying him. “I thought I might use … this…” She straightened, ran her palms down her sides, arching her back. The move was provocative, sensual. Sexual. And it made the ache in his cock worse.

  Jesus. He wasn’t prepared to use their chemistry this time but apparently she was. The irony of the reversal wasn’t lost on him. “Don’t,” he said, unable to keep the harsh edge from his voice. “Don’t use sex to get what you want. That’s not you, Honor.”

  She raised a brow. “Why shouldn’t I? Especially when you were the one who started it. Playing your dominance games with me. Why can’t I do the same thing now?” Her gaze was unflinching. “If I have to fight dirty I will.” She paused, licked her lips. “But I guess if that’s too much for you then by all means, go back to bed yourself.”

  “You don’t want to play this with me,” he said roughly. “You’ll lose.”

  “Oh, will I?” Slowly she lifted her hands, cupped her breasts. “I’m not sure that’s true.” Her thumbs brushed her nipples and she let out a soft sigh. “You’re not the only one with power, Gabriel Woolf. And you’re not the only one who knows how to exploit a weakness.”

  No. Fuck that. He didn’t want to play these games with her. Not here. Not now.

  He didn’t say anything, beginning to walk toward her instead. This was his show. His game. He was the one in charge. And if she thought she could take the control from him, she had another think coming.

  “Stop,” Honor said, her voice hard, authoritative. “Touch me and I’ll walk out of here right now and I won’t come back. Not ever.”

  Gabriel stopped dead. Bluffing. She had to be bluffing. But her gaze was cool. Like an archer watching an arrow they’d loosed, knowing without a shadow of a doubt it would hit the target.

  She wasn’t fucking bluffing.

  Ignore her. Let her walk out. Don’t let her manipulate you like this.

  He should do all that. Because she was getting to him in a way she wasn’t supposed to. A way he’d never intended. But for some reason he stayed where he was. Staring at her.

  “What do you want, Honor?” he asked at last.

  “Answers. The truth.”

  “And if I tell you everything?”

  She met his gaze. “I will do whatever you want. Anything you want.”

  “But you already do that. You have to give me something I don’t have yet.”

  She didn’t answer that immediately, her gaze roving over his face. Searching. “A friend, Gabriel,” she said after a long moment. “You don’t have a friend.”

  Unease turned over inside him. “Bullshit. I have friends.”

  “What? Those people in your billionaires club? Alex? He punched you in the face and those other two … Do they really know you? Do you trust them?”

  The unease deepened, a strange sense of loss opening up inside him. An emptiness he hadn’t been aware of until now.

  “You gotta lock it down, kid,” the Reverend had said. “’Cause vengeance is a long, costly, lonely fucking business to be in.”

  So he’d hardened himself. Locked it down. Closed himself off from everyone and everything. It was easy. Certainly easier and far less painful than giving a shit. Easier than trust.

  He didn’t need anything but his anger.

  “I don’t trust anyone,” he said. “And no one needs to know me. I don’t give a shit about that.”

  Slowly, she came toward him, the light from the outside moving over her body. Her nipples were hard and he suddenly wanted, more than anything in the world, to push her down onto the floor and bury himself inside her. Cover himself in her warmth, her heat. Her scent. Her taste. Surround himself with her, fill up the empty places inside him. Places he hadn’t known existed until now.

  “I think you do,” Honor said softly. “Everyone needs someone to trust. Someone who knows them and who has their back no matter what. Everyone needs a true friend.”

  She was close now and everything in him wanted her. But if he touched her she would leave and … he didn’t
want her to.

  Fuck. She’s getting to you, you prick. Walk away. Walk away now.

  Gabriel turned. A ride, that’s what he needed. His bike and the cold wind and the silence of the forest. The open road. Space to get his head back on straight. Clear his mind. Find the cold heart that he needed.

  “I don’t need anything,” he said. “And you’ve got nothing I want.”

  Then he walked away, heading toward the door that led to his underground parking garage where he kept his bike.

  The stairwell was unheated and cold but he welcomed the chill, trying to freeze the ache that seemed to linger in his chest, the heat still burning in his groin. Trying to not see the image of Honor, naked, bathed in neon and moonlight, coming toward him, the expression on her face painful in a way he didn’t want to admit to.

  The garage was unheated, too, the concrete icy under his bare feet. Skirting around the couple of cars he’d bought, and the truck he liked to drive when he was working on site, he went to the back where he kept his motorcycles. He had a large collection, but his favorite had always been the black Norton. British bikes had always appealed to him and this one, a Commando, was the one he preferred out of all of them.

  He went to the cupboard off to one side where he kept his bike leathers, pulling it open and putting on his jacket and boots.

  “Don’t be such a fucking coward.” The voice behind him was feminine and full of contempt.

  He turned.

  Honor was standing near his bike, still absolutely naked.

  Jesus fucking Christ, she’d followed him. She must be freezing.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Get back upstairs. You’ll freeze to death down here.”

  “No.” She remained exactly where she was. “Why should I be the one to leave? I’m not the one running away.”

  “I’m not—”

  “The hell you’re not. You won’t give me answers and the one thing I offer you, the one thing I know you want, you fling back in my face. Tell yourself all you like you don’t need anyone, but we both know that’s an excuse. You’re scared, Gabriel.”

  He shut the cupboard, harder than he’d meant to, the sound echoing off the hard concrete of the walls and floor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Now get back upstairs before I carry you up there myself.”

  Honor folded her arms and he could see the goose bumps on them, the shiver that wracked her as she did so. Her feet were very white. Everything about her, except her hair and her eyes, was very white. “I’m not going anywhere. N-not until I get my answers.”

  He took a step toward her, only stopping himself from touching her at the last minute. “Get the fuck upstairs before you freeze to death!”

  She moved. But it wasn’t in the direction of the stairs. Instead, she closed the space between them, sliding her hands beneath his jacket, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her cold skin against him. “Why?” she murmured. “When you can warm me up?”

  Gabriel stilled. She’d told him not to touch her and yet she was touching him everywhere, her hands stroking his back beneath his jacket, her warm breath against his bare chest. The press of her naked breasts against him was cold but not for long, her skin beginning to warm up again.

  “I can give you what you want,” she whispered, her mouth brushing his skin. “I can be your friend. I can be the one you trust. The one you talk to. The one you know will never turn against you. I think you need it, Gabriel. I think you need me.”

  He shuddered, unable to help it. Unable to stop the rush of desire that flooded through him.

  You have to be cold. Detached.

  But how could he be when she was here warming everything up? Melting everything. He couldn’t be. He didn’t want to be.

  “You can tell me,” she whispered against his skin. “You can tell me anything.” Her hands moved along his spine. Comforting. “You don’t have to carry these things alone.”

  Fuck the not touching. Fuck the cold. Fuck everything.

  Gabriel caught a hand in her hair, tangled his fingers through it, and pulled her head back. Kissed her upturned mouth. Hard. Hungry.

  Honor made a sound in her throat. Not protest. She surged up in his arms, kissing him back with her own hunger, her own strength. Her teeth sunk into his lip, nipping him, sending a sharp jolt of pain down his spine. Making him rock hard in seconds flat.

  He couldn’t wait for this. Not for a bed. Not for anything. But the floor was like ice which left him only one option. He picked her up, carried her over to the Norton. Then he sat on the bike, holding her in his lap, facing him. She had her arms around his neck, still kissing him, a hot, demanding kiss that left him fighting for control.

  He put a hand between her spread thighs, all raw heat and wetness, wanting to claim back the control from her. Flicking a thumb over her clit, he slid a finger inside her and she groaned against his mouth, her body trembling. Wrenching her head away, she gasped as he slid in a second finger, her eyes dark. “L-looks like I’ll be … walking away after this,” she panted.

  Christ, her no-touching rule. But it was too late for that now. And he could make sure she wouldn’t walk.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He moved his hand, sliding his fingers deeper inside her, his thumb circling the hard bud between her thighs, savagely pleased by the way her body shuddered under his touch.

  Her head fell forward, silky hair against his shoulder. “Y-you can’t force me, Gabriel. If I stay, it’s because I want to.”

  She was hot now, the feel of her body around his fingers insanely erotic. Force her. God, how had it come to this?

  You should have let her go …

  He should have. But he hadn’t. And now it was too late. “You’re not going,” he said hoarsely, slicking his thumb over her clit. “I won’t let you.”

  She shivered, her breathing harsh and fast against his throat. “You don’t want me to.”

  “No.” The word escaped him before he could stop it. “No, I don’t want you to.”

  “Then,” she said simply, “I won’t.” And she lifted her head and kissed him. No violence this time. Only softness. Sweetness. Her arms wound around his neck, her hips rocking against his hand. Gentleness and strength. “You make me feel so good.” A soft murmur against his mouth. “You make me feel … like myself.”

  He didn’t understand why that cracked something in him. Why a few simple words should change things. He fisted a handful of silky black hair, pulled her head away so he could look at her face. Look into her eyes. They were wide and dark, meeting his.

  “Why?” he demanded harshly, not even sure what he was asking.

  “Because I can be myself around you. Because you’re my friend.”

  “No. I’m not. I’m not anyone’s friend.” And he twisted his hand, stroking her so she moaned, helpless in his grip.

  “I … don’t care what you say,” she said raggedly. “That’s my decision, not yours.”

  Jesus, what could he do to make her change her mind? Make her see him for what he was? Who he was? Because he didn’t deserve her friendship. Or her trust. Or her loyalty. Not someone like her.

  But he didn’t want to hurt her. Which left him with only one option.

  The truth.

  Slowly Gabriel withdrew his fingers from her.

  “No,” she said. “Don’t stop.”

  The heat of her seeped into him, the musky scent of her arousal making him so hard he could barely think. But she wanted the truth and so he would give it to her.

  “Gabriel—” she began.

  “I told you my mother was raped,” he interrupted hoarsely. “Well, that wasn’t the end of it.”

  Honor blinked, the flush of desire staining her cheekbones, her eyes still dark. “What?”

  “She got pregnant. She had a child.”

  Her eyes went wide, shock beginning to creep into them.

  “She had me.”

  * * *

  Honor shivered
, the heady pleasure he’d been giving her dissipating, making her aware of the chill of the air around her. Of the icy darkness in his eyes. Pain. Guilt. Shame. He hadn’t been talking only of his mother’s. He’d been talking about his own.

  Words—so useless, meaningless—got stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what to say.

  He was the child of his mother’s rape. What could she say to that? There was a legacy there that made her feel cold all over, that made her ache with grief for him.

  “So,” she said thickly, “this justice you’re seeking is from…” She couldn’t say it.

  “Is from my father?” Gabriel said it for her. “Yes.”

  His father …

  “He was the owner of the hotel. No one you know.”

  The connection formed, knowledge breaking over her, and she wasn’t only cold now. She was frozen right down to the bone. “G-Guy,” she whispered, horrified. “Guy is your father?”

  He didn’t say anything but his hands on her hips tightened, his dark eyes holding hers, the look in them relentless.

  “How do you know?” she demanded. “What proof do you have?”

  “When my mother died I found a check in her belongings. It was from him. Dated the day she was raped.”

  “That’s the only proof? A check?”

  Anger lit in his eyes and this time, there was nothing cold about it. “Why the fuck else would my mother have a check from Guy Tremain? A check dated the day she was raped? It was for a million bucks, Honor. Money that she needed, especially after I was born. But she never fucking cashed it. There’s only one reason. It was from the man who hurt her and she didn’t want to touch it.”

  She was so cold now. She couldn’t stop trembling. All this time, he’d known. All this time he’d had Guy in his sights and he hadn’t told her. That her stepfather was a rapist and he was his son.

  No, it couldn’t be true. She just couldn’t get her head around it. Guy had never been violent. Not toward her and not toward her mother. Not even once. It didn’t make any sense.

  “You don’t believe me,” Gabriel said and there were undercurrents in his voice she didn’t have a hope of understanding.

  “Why should I? You have a check and a supposition. That’s all.”