Page 95 of Angel Eyes

“We could try a different hotel,” I offered, but there was no conviction in my voice. Most hotels were already full because of the storm, and we’d been lucky to find this place.

“I honestly don’t mind.” Dropping the curtain, she came to stand in front of me, and my eyes slinked down her face, snagging on the swell of her bottom lip.

God, I wanted to kiss her. To take her lips slowly and swallow those sweet little moans she made whenever my tongue teased the seam of her mouth. As if reading my thoughts, her lips parted on an exhale, her warm breath falling against me, and I lifted a hand, grazing a thumb over her skin. No, I definitely wanted more than a kiss. And from the way she was looking at me, her pupils blown wide, so did she.

But she didn’t want to be with me, and as long as that was the case, this visceral need between us couldn’t go any further than heated stares and heavy breathing. Because there was no version of me joining my body to hers that wouldn’t involve me worshiping her, claiming her, owning her. One time wouldn’t be enough. Two times, five times—it didn’t matter.

I would never get enough of her.

“Gabriel.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper as she raked her fingertips down my abdomen, and my dick hardened so fast, the edges of my vision darkened.

“You should shower,” I said hoarsely, the words tripping over themselves on the way out. “You’ve been in those damp clothes too long.” I turned my back to her before she had the chance to notice the physical evidence of how she affected me.

After a handful of seconds, the bathroom door clicked shut, and I slumped onto the sofa, letting my head fall back.

Come on, you’re better than this. I wasn’t some depraved beast—I was a man with a sense of decency and control. But the second the shower turned on, my mind betrayed me with images of Juliet naked on the other side of the door, and a strangled groan caught in my throat.

Nope, I was definitely a beast. Wild and ravenous for her.

I blinked an eye open, glancing at the door. What would she do if I went in there? I could tell she wanted me from the way she looked at me, the way she touched me. She wouldn’t deny me if I stepped into the shower with her, pushed her up against the wet tiles, and—

I shot up from the sofa and swiped the key card off the desk, storming out the door before I could finish the thought.

Juliet

Steady rain pattered against the window above the desk where I sat running fingers through my damp hair. Pulling the fluffy bathrobe tighter around me, I glanced over my shoulder at the closed bathroom door. After a brief disappearance to I didn’t know where—though from the faint scent of whiskey, I suspected the hotel bar—Gabriel had returned to the room and made a beeline for the bathroom without saying a word to me. The silence had stung, but it was no less than I deserved after the way I had shot him down earlier.

Was I wrong to reject him? No, I didn’t think so. I cared about him too much to let him be pressured into something he wasn’t ready for. Even if I had spent half the summer hoping he would change his mind, I couldn’t accept his offer—not if it wasn’t what he truly wanted.

And what about Elise? I swallowed, forcing a surge of jealousy back down my throat. The more I thought about the way Gabriel had reacted to her phone call the night of the gala, the more I wondered what their connection was. What was she to him? Was she an ex? Did she have something to do with Gabriel’s feelings about relationships?

The bathroom door swung open, and I swiveled in my chair. All the air immediately hissed out of me when my eyes collided with the powerful lines of Gabriel’s frame, a towel hanging loosely around his waist. His dark hair was pushed back, the wet strands falling in gleaming rivulets down the column of his neck, and my eyes dipped lower, exploring the ridges and valleys of his flesh. The carved expanse of his chest. The plateau of muscle at the base of his stomach. I had seen his naked body once before, but I must not have been truly looking.

I was looking now, though.

“Sorry,” he said, interrupting my shameless perusal. “I forgot to grab a robe before showering.” He turned to the closet, and I bit my tongue hard as I took in the broad landscape of his back, elegantly carved with lean muscle, muscle I wanted to sink my nails into while he—

“Would you mind turning around?”

I blinked, my mental faculties rebooting and transmitting the message that he was no longer facing the closet, but was staring straight at me. I looked away, releasing a nervous laugh.

Really smooth, Juliet.

“Decent?” I called over my shoulder. He grunted in response, and I turned toward him again, making a solid effort to keep my eyes on his face this time.

He crossed his arms. “You should get some rest. You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” As though the matter was decided, he took a purposeful step forward.

“I want to talk first,” I said, moving into his path. Talking was probably the last thing he wanted to do. Hell, it was the last thing I wanted to do. But not talking hadn’t gotten us anywhere, and I was tired of it.

He clenched and unclenched his jaw before settling onto the edge of the bed.

“Before, when I said I wouldn’t be with you, I didn’t get a chance to explain why.”

“I know why.” His tone was neutral, but his eyes swirled with such intense emotion, it sent my heart spiraling down to the base of my stomach.

“You do?”

He nodded. “You already told me, remember? At the gallery when we …” His voice tapered off, his throat moving on a hard swallow. “You said you needed to make the most of your time in Paris, and I get that. You’re right to put your ambitions first.”

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