His gaze is liquid heat. “I want them.”
He crawls onto the bed. The wary, hesitant man is gone. Gabriel moves with grace, nearly prowling, hot eyes on me, his body coming flush with mine. I start to pant as he deftly rolls me to face the wall and curls himself around me, pressing my back to his front. He does it all as if he’s had this planned in his head for some time, as if he’s been thinking in great detail about what he’d do with me once in his bed.
His arm wraps around my middle, snaking up between my breasts before I can even blink. He cups my shoulder, holding me close—snuggling me.
I tremor, a swarm of bees bumping around in my belly. This feels too good. My skin is burning, my heart racing. He has to notice. I feel the rapid thud of his heart against my shoulder blades and know he’s agitated too.
We struggle with the newness of the situation for a few seconds, and then he sighs, his warm breath stirring my hair, and his hard body eases. It’s so peaceful, that sound, that I sink into his hold. We’re over the covers, but I’m so warm, so secure, that it doesn’t matter.
Gabriel’s lips press against the crown of my head. “Every night, chatty girl.”
The possession in his voice is absolute. I’m in so much fucking trouble.
Chapter Ten
Gabriel
* * *
“So, what are we going to tell people?” Sophie’s big brown eyes gaze up at me with worry as we make our way to the practice room set up at a local recording studio.
Kill John is going to do a run through of a new song before we set off again, and I want to see if they’re up to snuff. Sophie, of course, will be there to take photos.
Having gained two hours of sleep—a bloody miracle, by my count—I’m feeling so relaxed and mellow that I nearly hum one of their tunes. I might very well be losing my mind, but I don’t bloody care.
“About what?”
“About me rooming with you.” She waves an arm in exasperation.
She’s adorable, really. And so fantastically soft and rounded and warm. God, she’s warm when she sleeps, her lemon tart scent stronger, earthier somehow. I’m tempted to turn us around and demand more nap time.
I have to force myself to pay attention. “Do you not want them to know?”
“Well,” she falters. “I don’t know. It’s just kind of…” Brown eyes narrow on me. “Do you want them to know you need me to fall asleep?”
“Not particularly.”
She stops at the threshold of the room. No one has noticed us yet, so we have a bit of privacy. “They’re going to think we’re together.”
A lovely flush pinks her round cheeks. My finger itches to stroke them.
“And that would be a problem?” I find myself asking.
Her full lips part, then snap shut before she answers. “It’s a problem if it’s a lie. And, no, I don’t like the idea of people I work with gossiping about us.”
“I see.” With a nod, I turn toward the room. “Oy, listen up. Sophie will be traveling with me on my coach. And it’s none of your bloody business why, so I’d better not hear a word about it. Understood?”
At my side, Sophie makes a strangled gurgle that sounds like a drowning chipmunk.
My boys, however, just blink back at me before grinning.
“Well, all right then, Scottie,” Rye drawls. “Glad to see you taking initiative in your personal life.”
Whip shakes his head. “Fucking knew it.”
“You know nothing,” Sophie hisses at him.
Jax high-fives Rye. “You owe us each fifty bucks, Killian.”
“Shit, and I was so sure he’d hold out longer. Thanks a lot, Scottie.” Killian glares at me. The little arse.
“What did I say about speculating?” I warn. “One more word and I’ll have you all doing a music video with synchronized dancing faster than you can say Backstreet Boys.”
Whip lifts up a hand. “Okay, geesh. Got it. You two are an impenetrable wall that no one shall gaze upon. No need to go all Simon Cowell on us.”
I don’t have time to see how the others react. Sophie pinches my side.
“Ouch. Do you mind? This is a silk-wool blend. You’ll wrinkle it.”
“It’s about to be shredded.” She seethes up at me, eyes shooting sparks. “You just totally threw our business out there.”
“I told them not to talk about it.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Which means they’ll be talking about it even more.”
“No, they won’t.”
“Yes, we will,” Rye calls.
I point at him. “Start practicing your Running Man.”
“Is anyone else impressed that he knows dance moves?”
Sophie pokes me with her finger to punctuate each word. “This is all your fault.”
Brenna takes it upon herself to stroll over. Her smile is wide and smug. “What did I tell you, Scottie-boy? I hire the best people.”