Page 26 of Erotic Temptations 1

“That was just the supply cart. Maintenance has a death wish for subtlety,” he said.

I nodded, pretending my heart hadn’t tried to stage an escape through my ribcage.

“Ready for your final stop?” he asked, motioning toward the hallway.

Mia waved. “Nice meeting you! Don’t let him scare you.”

Gabe looked affectionately at her, his smile amused. “Watch out for your ghosts.”

“They’re not mine!” she squeaked.

“Nice meeting you too,” I said.

“You got questions?” Gabe asked as we wound back through the service corridors. His gait had confidence written all over it. He moved like he’d been born in a storm and trained by wolves.

I’d had a few I’d wanted to ask, but my mind blanked out. “Not at the moment.”

The lobby was quieter when they returned to the desk. Someone had finished attaching paper snowflakes to the ceiling, and the only noticeable sound was Christmas music drifting down from the speakers.

“Tomorrow you have the early shift,” Gabe said, glancing at the roster taped to the side of the desk. “You’ll start on the third floor. The houseman will have your cart set up by the elevator.”

Part of me wanted to invent a reason to stick around, just for another minute of his company, but my social batteries were blinking red.

“Cool. I mean, not cool, the third floor, but cool that I have a cart. That’s a big step, career-wise.”

He grinned. “We try to deliver.”

I walked away praying I didn’t screw this up.

* * * *

I flopped onto the bed, my thoughts instantly drifting to Gabe. Every inch of the stiff blanket beneath me made it impossible to pretend I wasn’t wired. I stared up at the ceiling, Gabe’s cologne still lingering in my nose from earlier, like he’d left a secret message in the room. Part of me would’ve paid good money for another five minutes in his company, just to hear the way his voice made my name sound important. Instead, I was alone, which meant I could do what I actually wanted.

My dick was already half-hard, just from thinking about him. Correction. Just from remembering the way his hand had landed on my arm, thumb pressing into the fabric of my hoodie, like he’d been tempted to keep it there. I wasn’t the type to get off on a handshake, but my body had its own agenda, and apparently the second Gabe was out of sight, it moved him to the top of the fantasy list.

I yanked my jeans open and shoved them down, leaving them tangled around one ankle. Underwear barely contained the beginnings of my erection. Didn’t even bother to think about whether the bed would creak under me. Just closed my eyes and let my hand slip inside, cupping my dick through the fabric and squeezing a little, feeling it throb against my palm.

Every time I tried to come up with something else to focus on, it was just Gabe, Gabe, and more Gabe. His mouth, his arms, the way he looked at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve. Nobody had ever looked at me like that. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop reliving it, rewinding every little moment from the hallways and the kitchen until it made me hot enough to squirm.

Pushed down my underwear and let my cock spring free, already flushed and heavy against my stomach. I fished the travel bottle of lube out of the side pocket of my duffel, popped the top, and slicked my hand. It was cold at first, but then friction kicked in, and that just made everything more desperate.

I started slow, thumb teasing the crown of my cock, working the lube in like I was trying to memorize every fucking nerve ending. My hips jerked a little, shameless as hell. I didn’t even care. The bed was weirdly supportive, and the sheets were softer than I expected for a staff room. All I could think about was Gabe. What would it feel like if he pressed me down, caged me in with those big arms, and kissed me like he was starving?

I couldn’t imagine him doing anything gently. Gabe would kiss me like he owned the place and, by extension, me. My hand worked faster, lube dripping down the shaft, palm gliding up and down. I let out this low, needy sound I’d never admit to making. Fuck. All these months starved of touch, now I was seconds away from losing it just from a smile and a steady grip on my sweatshirt.

What if he was here?

I pictured Gabe pushing me back, kneeling on the bed, eyes focused on my mouth as he leaned in. He saw me blush and watched me react to every little thing. He held my head steady and kissed me, tongue slipping in, dragging a little groan out of me.

He talked, low and guttural, right up against my ear. “Does it feel good?” Maybe I’d answer or maybe I’d just let my body do the talking.

I wanted that. I wanted him.

My hand pumped faster, hips rolling into it. Wet heat built low in my belly. So good. I thought about Gabe’s fingers curling around my cock, squeezing, not letting me go until I was desperate. Maybe he’d grip my ass, pull me closer, press his own hard cock against mine. The mental image was enough to make my toes curl.

Pressure built, and I didn’t try to hold back. I jerked my fist up and let the pleasure slam into me. Groaned, biting my fist so nobody passing in the hall would hear. Hot, pulsing release shot over my belly, and for a second, I was just floating, brain empty except for the echo of Gabe’s name.

My heart wouldn’t slow down. Sweat cooled on my forehead, and I lay there, panting, hand sticky and wet. That had been fast, even by my standards. No sense of shame though. If anything, satisfaction buzzed under my skin like I’d won something.