Page 45 of Vicious Temptation

Gabriel clears his throat, taking a step back, and I think I see a flush just above his collar. He smiles, that joking expression returning, and the moment dissolves. But I know I didn’t imagine it, just like I didn’t imagine it this morning, or that night in the living room, or when he took me out to dinner that first time.

There’s something between us. But he’s been firm that he wants nothing to do with any of that, and I’m too terrified to try.

“I really did mean it, Bella,” he says, more gently this time, the way he talked to me last night when I woke up crying in my room. “I wanted you to get yourself something. Next time, if the opportunity arises, you should.”

And then he walks out of the room, leaving me still feeling slightly breathless, and more confused than ever.

15

GABRIEL

It feels like I’ve only just fallen asleep when I’m woken by the sound of a high, feminine scream.

This time, I don’t have to wait to know what it is. I know it’s Bella, and I’m out of bed in a moment, hurrying to her room. I knock once this time before I push the door open, not wanting to scare her, and find her curled on her side in the bed, clutching her pillow and trembling.

She sits up like a shot when she sees me, still clutching the pillow, her eyes wide and apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I woke you up again. I—” She trails off, clearly not knowing what to say, because it’s not her fault. She has nightmares because of what those monsters did to her, and I can’t imagine what it must feel like, to have endured something like that.

“Bella. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” I sink down on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch her, even though everything in me wants to.

Everything in me wanted to touch her earlier today, too, under entirely different circumstances. I can’t help but wonder if she realized her own reaction to what I’d mistakenly said—or rather, the way I hadn’t meant to say it. I meant to teasingly reprimand her for not buying something for herself after I’d told her to, but it had come out like a very different kind of order. My repressed desires, I suppose, rearing their heads at the opportunity. But I’d seen the way her pupils widened, the way she breathed in and tensed, not with fear, but with a reaction that had sent a hot pulse straight down to my cock the instant I recognized it.

I don’t think she realized it, because, from all I know about what happened to her, that feeling would have frightened her if she had. I don’t reach for her now, not only because I know that she doesn’t like to be touched, but because I’m too afraid of what else I might do if I touch her. If I pull her into my arms and let her lay against my chest. It would be the height of being an absolute bastard to take advantage of her in this situation, but I can all too easily see how comforting her could turn into kissing her, and if she allowed it, into so much more.

“When will you have your pills again?” I ask her instead, distracting myself, and I see her curl in on herself a little, that apologetic expression intensifying as she chews on her lip.

“I’m sorry, I know this is an inconvenience—I’m waking you up, and you’re busy; you need your sleep?—”

“Bella.” I shake my head, narrowing my eyes at her. “You’re not an inconvenience. None of this is. I’m concerned for you, that’s all. I want you to have a good night’s sleep, free of night terrors, and not just because it wakes me up or because you’re supposed to watch my kids in the morning. I want you to be okay.”

She looks up at me sharply, as if those last few words have startled her. As if my concern startles her. And that only adds to the convoluted tangle of feelings inside of me, only reinforces my resolve to talk to Masseo as soon as possible. Because it’s clear that no one has made this woman feel cared for in her entire life. That no one has ever protected her. That no one has ever cared about her happiness or safety unless it could benefit them. I want to give that to her, in a visceral way that mingles with my desire until I’m not sure where one ends and the other begins, and I know how very, very dangerous that is. How quickly those feelings could morph into something that isn’t good for either of us.

Just like I know how dangerous what I’m about to suggest is.

“When, Bella?” I ask her again. “When will you have the pills?”

“The end of next week,” she manages, wiping at her face. “My appointment is Thursday.”

“Until then, you can come sleep in my bed.” I want her close to me, but I have other reasons for it, too. I think her isolation is a large part of the problem—based off of her description of the situation, her father took very little interest in her recovery, and left her mostly alone while he looked for ways to exploit her again. I think having someone near her will help her sleep.

“What?” She stares at me. “No, you don’t have to do that?—”

“I know I don’t have to. But I think having someone next to you with no ulterior motive, who can keep you safe, right there within reach, will help.” I don’t have an ulterior motive, I tell myself firmly. I want her close because I want to protect her, not because I want her in my bed. Nothing is going to happen between us. “I’ll put up a wall of pillows between the two of us if I have to, in order for you to feel comfortable,” I promise her, lightening my tone in hopes that it convinces her. “But I think you’ll feel safer. And at least then, if you wake up crying, I can comfort you without having to travel so far.”

It’s a little bit of a low blow, playing on her guilt over waking me. I know that, but I want to convince her that this is a good idea. I really do think it will help her. And I can control my own thoughts. I’ve done it every time the urge to touch her or let her see my desire has reared up, and I can do it again, even if she’s right next to me. I feel sure of that.

Bella swallows hard, and I can see the uncertainty on her face. But I don’t back down, and she finally nods—whether because she agrees it’s a good idea or because she’s not capable of arguing, I’m not sure. But as problematic as it might be, I’m glad either way, because it means she’s agreeing, and I at least feel confident of my plan.

I feel less confident when we’re actually in my room. Bella looks at the large bed, her doe eyes going wide and fearful, and I half think she’s going to bolt out of the room.

“I’m not going to bite you,” I tell her gently. “You can sleep as far away from me as you want. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I just want to help you, Bella.”

She nods, taking a breath, and walks to the bed. Quickly, she tugs the covers back and slips under them, pulling them up to her shoulders, and I go to join her on the other side.

“You can also sleep next to me, if you want,” I offer, before I think better of it. “If having someone hold you would help?—”

That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had, I chastise myself, relieved when she shakes her head, because I was an idiot to offer. The last thing I need is her delicate, lithe body pressed up against mine, warm and soft, tempting me with everything that she has to offer and everything that I haven’t had in so long.

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