Page 27 of Claiming What Is Mine

Chapter Fourteen

Meredith

Oh my God,I can’t believe I let myself eat like a pig.

“Gabe, that was delicious. Thank you, again.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you liked it. But I hope you left a little room. There’s dessert, remember?”

Dessert? I could go for some dessert. Pig be damned, a girl needs her sweet treats now and then.

“Oh, I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to,” I lie.

“Well, I remember you said you’re not big on sweets, but I think you might come around if you’ll try it. Just a bite, even.”

I lean back in my chair and put my hands on my stomach. Stop doing that, it’s not a pretty look.

“Thanks, but I couldn’t eat another bite. What is it, anyway?” Please be something disgusting.

“Don’t move a muscle, I’ll be right back.” Gabe pops up from his chair and heads into the kitchen, returning quickly with a whole pie in one hand and two plates in the other.

“You made a pie?” I stare at the pastry in disbelief.

“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t give proper credit where it’s due? This is from Belle’s. I called this morning and asked them to make one, special.”

“Wow. I didn’t know they did that.”

“Technically, I don’t think they do. But you really ought to give it a try. It’s pecan. Remember? From the day we met for lunch? You never tried it, and you really ought to.” Gabe sets the gooey masterpiece in front of me and cuts into it with a butter knife.

Fight it woman. You are stronger than this.

With his thumb pressed against the flaky crust, he pulls out a perfectly large piece, setting it on a plate. “Are you sure you don’t want any, Doll?”

Damn you, Gabe Wilde. Damn you.

“It looks delicious. Maybe later?” Now get up from the table and walk away, before you change your mind.

Disappointed, Gabe puts the pie back into the tin container and returns it to the kitchen.

Bless you, Gabe Wilde. Bless you.

“More wine?” he asks, picking up the bottle when he returns. “Maybe we can move to the living room? I’ll make a fire if you’d like.”

“Sure, that would be lovely.” I scoot back from the table and pick up my wine glass—now filled to the brim—and follow him into the living room.

“Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.” Gabe motions towards his brown leather couch. “It’s no beanbag chair, but I think it’s nice.”

I set my glass on the coffee table next to a wire basket filled with decorative balls. What a nice accent and such a surprise, as is the rest of the house. The décor alone shows how Gabe has matured since I last knew him. “Very nice,” I say, bouncing playfully in my seat. “No bean bag chair, but I approve.”

Gabe crouches in front of a stone fireplace, his back to me as he lays out a healthy layer of kindling. “So, beautiful...think your folks would notice if you didn’t make it home tonight?”

“Excuse me? Mr. Wilde, just what kind of lady do you think I am?” I ask, in my best southern belle voice, while fanning at my chest.

Gabe stands. When he faces me, his eyes are different. There’s a hunger in them that wasn’t present at dinner. The lighthearted, cheerful, albeit sarcastic, guy everyone knows is gone. This man? This man is serious. He’s an apex predator on the hunt. Seeing him like this makes my face hot. My chest too. Is it the wine? My body has forgotten how to breathe on its own, forcing me to do it consciously. Each breath coming quick and shallow. The room falls away, leaving only Gabe and me.

“I want you, Meredith. I have wanted you for so long. I can’t wait any longer.” Gabe closes the gap between us in a snap. “The night of the wedding doesn’t count. That was sex. I need something more.”

The smell of his cologne. The sight of his powerful shoulders as his body towers over me. I want him too. Now, and every night since the wedding. I haven’t been able to fall asleep without touching myself, his face behind my closed eyes. I stand to kiss him, but before I’m fully upright, he sweeps me into his arms, like I’m nothing.

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