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CHAPTER TEN
ALICE
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more exposed in my life.
Lying on Gabe Mercer’s obscenely expensive navy sheets, naked except for the black bra that’s pushed down around my waist. I thought I’d be self-conscious, but the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing in the universe—melts away any leftover anxiety. Not gonna lie, it’s pretty intoxicating.
Gabe’s dark eyes eat me up, tracing the line from my flushed cheeks down to my tits. His gaze makes my whole body tingle, even the parts that are normally pretty chill.
He’s still mostly dressed, which seems like a cosmic injustice. His shirt’s undone, giving me a good view of his muscular chest, and his slacks ride low on his slim hips. When I get a flash of what’s hiding behind his zipper, my mouth goes dry.
I hook my thumbs under my bra, pop it open, and fling it to the floor like a dare. “Get a move on, Mercer,” I say, hoping I sound more confident than I feel.
His lips quirk in a slow, dangerous smile that does terrible things to my insides. “You’re going to be the death of me, coffee girl,” he rumbles, and then—holy God—starts to undress.
He moves slowly. Calculated. Like he’s giving me a show. He peels off his shirt first, revealing that broad, cut chest. There’s a thin scar on his left pec, a jagged line that makes him look even more dangerous and sexy. I want to lick it. His biceps flex as he tosses the shirt aside, and then his fingers go to his belt.
He never breaks eye contact, not for a second. He slides the belt off in one smooth motion and lets it dangle from his hand for a beat. “Fast enough for you?” he asks, low and husky.
I roll my eyes, but my pulse is going so wild, I’m half convinced I’ll have a heart attack before he even gets his pants off. “Stop messing with me and get to it.”
He chuckles and obliges, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper with agonizing slowness. The slacks drop to his ankles and—Jesus, Mary, and all The Backstreet Boys—he’s not wearing any underwear.
The man is packing, and he’s at full attention, and I have zero clue how I’m going to survive this night. For a split second, panic tries to crash the party. But then he climbs onto the bed, all towering muscle and heat and dark intent, and every thought except “yes, please” evaporates from my brain.
He hovers over me, propped on his elbows, just… looking. His gaze sweeps my naked body, reverent and hungry, and suddenly I feel like the most beautiful thing that’s ever existed.
He runs a hand down my side, slow and careful, mapping every inch. His palm glides over my hip, my thigh, and I shiver as his callused fingers brush the inside of my knee.
"You're shaking," he whispers, his warm breath caressing my ear as his calloused fingertips trace the goosebumps rising along my bare skin. The unexpected tenderness in his voice nearly undoes me.
"I'm fine," I lie, even though my body betrays me, trembling beneath his touch. "Just cold." It’s a total lie. I’m burning up inside as he stares down at me.
He grins as his eyes fill with wicked promise. "I can fix that," he murmurs, lowering his body until the scorching heat of his chest hovers just above mine.
He leans over and kisses me. Make that, he devours me. His mouth is hot and insistent, nipping down my jaw to my neck, where he sucks a mark just below my ear. The sharp, sweet ache sizzles down my center, straight to my core, causing my hips buck up into his, and he groans against my skin.
His hand slides up, cups my breast, and he teases my nipple with his thumb, rolling it until I’m arching off the bed. He moves to the other, lavishing it with the same attention, and I whimper, because apparently that’s a thing I do a lot when he’s around.
He takes his time, kissing every inch of me, every dip, every curve, until he ends up right where he wants to be. On his knees, between my legs, staring up at me with a look that tells me I belong to him. Possessive and hungry and so damn intent.
“Open for me,” he commands, and I obey, because I don’t have the brain power to do anything else at this point.
He leans in and kisses my inner thigh, just once, his lips warm and firm against my sensitive skin, before he runs his tongue along my center. The first swipe is tentative, exploring, like he's memorizing the contours of me, savoring the taste. His eyes flutter closed for a heartbeat, and when he groans a deep, primal sound that vibrates against my flesh, every nerve ending in my body lights up. I tremble and grip the sheets as pleasure coils tight in my belly.
Then he starts working me in earnest, slowly at first, then faster, tongue circling my clit and fingers pressing in deep. He keeps his eyes on me the entire time, watching my face like he needs to see exactly how much he’s wrecking me.
I fist my hands in his hair, tugging him closer. “Gabe—” I gasp, and he doubles down, sucking hard on my clit and curling his fingers just right. I shatter so suddenly, my vision goes white. I don’t even try to muffle the sounds I make. Hell, the entire building probably hears me. He doesn’t stop until I’m whimpering, oversensitive, and trembling.
He crawls back up my body, mouth shiny and smug, and kisses me so I can taste myself on his tongue. “You look so fucking gorgeous when you come for me,” he murmurs.
I grab his shoulders, pull him down, and kiss him like I want to eat him alive. “Your turn,” I growl, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He grinds against me, and I can feel the length of him, hot and heavy, pressing right where I want him most.
He teases me at the entrance, rubbing the tip through my slick, and the anticipation makes my whole body tense.
He slides his cock just barely inside, teasing me with the thick, hot length of him, and my toes actually curl against the sheets. Every muscle in my body locks up with need. I want to scream at him to just do it already, but all that comes out is a desperate, high-pitched sound I’ve never made before in my life.
