At the mid-morning break, most of the negotiators make a beeline for the restrooms.
But Gabriel Storm remains.
While I call the facilities team to let them know the room is temporarily vacant so they can clear the detritus from the meeting—dirty cups, plates and trash—I notice his fiddling with the coffee machine. Since it’s my job to make our guests feel at home, I approach him and demonstrate how the single-serve brewer works.
“Thank you. Elizabeth.” Eyes narrowed, he peers at me over the coffee mug’s rim.
His power, his intense masculinity, hit me like a semi, sucking the air out of my lungs. He doesn’t help matters when he steps closer, forcing me to look up at him. My five seven is no match against his six three.
“You’re welcome.” I rasp out in a breathy murmur.
He takes a couple of sips before resting the cup on the counter, his gaze riveted on me.
Eager to break the spell he weaves so easily around me, I spout, “I don’t know how you can drink that black. Too strong for me.”
“I like the taste of potent things in my mouth—coffee, brandy, a woman’s honey.”
A woman’s honey? My pussy clenches and I flush with heat. What would his mouth feel like? Licking, tasting, ravishing me. I shake my head. I’ll never know, will I?
As the cleaning crew drifts into the opposite side of the room, I emerge from my lust-induced reverie. I need to walk away. Now. Before I do something really stupid. I manage only half a step, before his hand circles my wrist and reels me back to him.
An urgent heat flares in his eyes. “Are you attached, Elizabeth?” he asks in a gravelly voice, barely loud enough for me to hear.
My legs turn to rubber. My breath hitches. “Attached?”
His thumb scrapes the inside of my wrist, setting off a wild pulse within. “Do you have a partner, a significant other, a boyfriend?”
“No.” I blurt out before I can think about the appropriateness of his question. Or my response.
“Good.” The hold on my wrist relaxes. It’s only then I realize how tense he’d been. As if my answer mattered to him. “Are you free tonight?”
What the—? Yeah, we shared a moment in the elevator and when I entered the conference room. But he’s on the opposing side of a half billion dollar deal. I can’t go out with him.
Not wishing to appear rude, though, I sidestep the question. “Chances are I’ll be working late.”
“Surely Carrey won’t keep you. He’ll want you to be fresh tomorrow morning for the negotiations. Meet me for drinks at my hotel. I’m staying at The Four Seasons. Around seven?”
I try to say something. But stunned by the turn of events, I can’t.
He palms a card from his jacket. “My mobile number. Call me when you leave the office so I know when to expect you.” He strokes the card against my cheek.
His touch sets off something within, a trembling I can’t control.
As he slips the card into my hand, his eyes turn the color of a savage storm. “You’re very responsive, Elizabeth. I like that.” And with that he strolls away, all liquid movement and languid grace.
What the hell just happened? I didn’t say yes.
You didn’t say no. Elizabeth. His panty-melting voice whispers inside my head.Return to Storm Damages