Always the fighting. Seeing him angry instinctively stirs something dark inside of me.
I push past it and walk toward Gabriel, digging in my purse to pull out the thick manila folder. I hold it out for him, and he takes it reluctantly.
“What is this?” Gabriel asks.
I sit on the sofa next to him and pull Harry onto my lap. “It’s everything I know about the Cartel and their drug operations,” I tell him. “Who they’re dealing to, which houses they’re dealing from, where they’ve been arranging meetings with their Irish contacts.”
Gabriel cocks a brow and pulls out the thick stack of documents. He flips through them while I play with an increasingly grumpy Harry. I don’t blame the kid. If I hadn’t seen my father in over a month, I’d be upset too if I got two seconds of face time and then my mom distracted him. But it’s now or never.
I study Gabriel’s expression, watching as one of his lips crooks into what could be considered a smile. He looks up. The force of his full attention spears through me like a jagged blade. And I love the pain.
“This is good,” he admits. “But then again, you’ve always been quite the talented little sneak.”
I frown. “I probably deserved that. We should get this out, you know. I can take it.”
Gabriel works his jaw back and forth, eyes pinning me to the spot. He gives a small shake of his head. “Tiger, I doubt you could take even half of what I think you deserve.”
There is a dark promise in those words that blurs the line between threat and seduction. My mouth goes dry, and I find myself staring at him in stunned silence. My heart shakes my ribcage. My thighs clench.
Harry starts to wail.
I jump in my seat, having forgotten I was even holding him. Gabriel leans forward and starts to stroke his cheek, whispering comforting words. I lean down and press my lips to the top of Harry’s head, his cries rattling in my brain.
“Chill out, little guy,” Gabriel urges. “I’m here.”
But for how long?
Gabriel lifts Harry from my lap and bounces him up and down, still whispering in his ear. I scoot closer and rub my hand over Harry’s back in circles. Harry’s cries turn to choked sobs, then to whimpers, and finally, he slumps into Gabriel’s chest, eyes closed, lips parted.
It has been so long since I’ve seen Harry asleep in Gabriel’s arms. The sight of it nearly draws tears to my eyes, and I blink them away while Gabriel’s head is lowered against Harry’s. I don’t want him to see me react like this. Gabriel responds to strength, and if I am going to convince him that we can make this work, I need to present the strongest version of myself.
“Gabriel,” I say.
He looks up.
“Do you have Jessica on standby?”
Jessica was Harry’s nanny when we lived in the mansion. It’s a long shot that he would have brought her back in for this visit, just in case, but the question is worth asking.
Gabriel blinks. “Yes. She’s here.”
“Good.” My lips curve in a wicked smile. I bat my eyelashes seductively. “Call her.”
His eyes darken as the lust blooms within them. He pulls out his phone.
The door to Gabriel’s bedroom slams back on its hinges as he pushes me through. His mouth works feverishly against mine, deepening the kiss. He kisses me like he owns me, like his tongue and lips and teeth are staking claim to my mouth, while his hands claim my body. I missed this. I missed the way his fingers sink into my skin, missed the way he rumbles an approving growl as I skim my fingers down his chest, missed the tug of his fist in my hair.
The room is just as bare as I remember it. Utilitarian, almost. Gabriel flings me onto the immaculately made bed without ceremony, and I push up on my elbows and watch as he undresses.
“Take your clothes off,” he orders, tossing his shirt to the floor.
My eyes carve a hungry path over his muscled chest, rippling abs, and the delicious V that leads into the top of his pants. I lick my lips.
In one fluid movement, Gabriel is above me, kneeling on the bed with one knee wedged between my legs and a hand pinning me to the mattress by my throat. His eyes bore into mine.