it feels like such a trite thing to say. “You’re a strong fucking woman. And even though you don’t need a man—especially a man like me—to have your back, I have it. You are not alone, Gabrielle.”
She raises her head and turns it toward me.
I reach out and brush the hair off her face, tucking it behind her ears, my fingers then resting on her jaw.
Her eyes search mine wildly, but the fear in them has changed once more.
“Kiss me,” she whispers.
“Wh-what?” I blink, wondering if I heard her right.
Before I can process it, she puts her hand at my cheek and leans in and brushes her lips against mine softly, just for a moment, just enough time for a jolt to pass from her to me, all the way to my toes. I’m lighting up like fucking firecrackers.
I kiss her back because that’s all I’ve wanted to do from the moment I first saw her. I kiss her, flush and warm, and though the kiss is still heating up, I fear where it could go.
I don’t want to hurt her.
Not after everything.
I pull back slightly, lick my lips, try to breathe. “Are you sure about this?” I murmur, my voice thick with desire. “I don’t feel right after . . . after . . .”
“I’m not damaged goods,” she whispers, staring into my eyes with such intensity that I don’t dare move. “I’m just a little broken. Maybe I need you to put me back together again. It can’t hurt to try, can it?”
God, I hope she’s right.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
GABRIELLE
What are you doing? the voice says. This will ruin you.
But I’m determined not to ever hear that voice again.
Not right now, staring at Pascal, breathless, still feeling the hot buzz of his lips on my mouth. He’s staring right back at me, his mouth open and wet where I kissed him. There’s wonder in his gaze, and I feel lost in that same feeling, too, hypnotized, his eyes so blue and intense, they rival the sky and the sea.
I can’t believe I kissed him.
I figured it might happen at one point, but never did I imagine it would happen now.
Not after everything I told him about his father.
Even if he doesn’t know it’s about his father.
I just had to see, had to know for sure, how different he was. What he felt like.
His lips were like heaven, soft and seductive, and every part of me is on fire, begging me to go back for more.
I want to be more than what was done to me.
I want to prove to myself that I’m not damaged beyond repair.
That I’m still a woman with wants and needs and urges.
He’s the man I shouldn’t want, the son of the devil.
And he’s staring at me like I’m the only woman in the world for him, the only one he really, truly needs. Salvation, maybe.
Whatever it is, I want more.
I want all of him.
I lean in slightly, staring up at him with a look that should be undeniable.
He reads that look.
Desire washes over his face like the incoming tide.
He grabs my face in his hands, pressing his fingers into my cheekbones, searching my eyes like if he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he might just die.
He catches me in a hard, long kiss, his lips having their way with mine, our tongues clashing wildly with each long pull. He tastes like the sea, and I want to drink all of him.
His fingers slide back into my wet hair, and I’m suddenly conscious that we’re making out on the beach in just his underwear and the world’s smallest bikini. Anyone could see us if they approached from a boat or the cliff above, but I don’t care.
It feels so good to just not care.
Pascal pulls me in closer, his kiss deepening, and my mouth opens up in kind, wanting this, needing this. Our kiss turns into something hot and messy, teeth and lips and tongues that dance with each other like in the depths of a fever dream.
He nips at my bottom lip, eliciting a groan that falls into his mouth.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs into my mouth, pulling back just enough to rub his nose against mine. “No idea how much I’ve wanted to do this, to know what you taste like.” He pauses, lips going to my jaw and leaving tiny wet kisses. “I want to taste all of you, every inch. I want to do it until you can’t handle it anymore,