Page 27 of Erotic Temptations 1
I wiped up with a stray T-shirt then closed my eyes for a second, letting the afterglow sink in. I could pretend it was a reset, a restart button, but I’d be lying if I said it made me any less obsessed with Gabe. If anything, my brain just wanted more.
A knock at the door nearly sent me rolling off the mattress.
Crap, crap, crap. I scrambled upright, heart beating like whoever it was knew what I was doing. My underwear were around my knees, and my cock was still half-hard, glistening with lube. Not exactly the image I wanted to burn into the universe. I yanked up my underwear, praying it wouldn’t show, then spotted the open lube bottle lying bright and proud in the middle of the bed.
Another knock. Not loud, but steady. My hand shot out and rolled the bottle under my pillow, using my other forearm tosweep a T-shirt over the questionable wet spot on my stomach. I’d never moved so fast in my life.
“Uh, just a second,” I called out, hoping my voice didn’t sound suspiciously hoarse. I threw on a hoodie, zipped it, then realized my underwear was tenting out way too obviously. There was no time to fix it. I sat back down, grabbing the nearest pillow and yanking it into my lap, doing my best impression of someone who absolutely had not been jerking off.
The door swung open, and Gabe stood there, holding a giant tray in one hand like he’d just raided the banquet kitchen.
My lips parted as I stared at the man who’d had me pinned down in my fantasy. He’d just been in my head, and now he stood in front of me. The cognitive dissonance was confusing my brain.
He wore sweats and a long-sleeved shirt, hair damp like he’d just run water through it. Everything about him made my body go dumb. I’d just gotten off, but the sight of him had me hard as fuck.
“Brought dinner. You looked like you could use it.” Gabe set the tray on the little table, flicking a glance over the room before his gaze settled on me. I prayed my face wasn’t as red as it felt, but odds were not in my favor.
“Thanks,” I managed, voice a full octave higher than normal.
Pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans, even a tiny bowl of apple pie and a can of Sprite. I’d never seen a more beautiful carb lineup.
“You okay?” His gaze flicked over my face.
“Yeah, just…I was gonna…you know?” I yanked the pillow closer. “Fantastic!”
He smiled, and something in my chest or maybe my stomach flipped. I wanted nothing more than to drop the pillow and see what he’d do if he saw my dick hard for him, but I didn’t have the guts. I gripped the pillow tighter instead.
Gabe set the food out, then turned and leaned against the dresser, arms folded. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he said. “It’s just dinner.”
“It’s not the dinner,” I blurted. Then instantly regretted it.
One eyebrow lifted, and for a second, he looked like he was trying to decode me. “You sure?” he said, casual but not uncaring.
Positive.
My brain scrambled to focus on food as he doled out a plate. The smell hit me with a vengeance, and my stomach growled so loud it was embarrassing.That’s what’s embarrassing?
He watched every move I made, like he knew exactly what I’d been doing.
I poked a chunk of roast with my fork. “You didn’t have to bring dinner.”
“I wanted to.” He shrugged, but something about the way his eyes tracked my face told me he was doing more than just a favor.
“You always take care of lost causes?” I tried for a joke, but my mouth was dry.
Gabe didn’t hesitate. “Only the cute ones.”
I jammed potatoes into my mouth to keep from saying something even dumber. The food was amazing. But I couldn’t get comfortable, not with the pillow pressed awkwardly in my lap and my body refusing to calm down.
Gabe stepped closer, holding his own bowl. He’d ditched the front-desk persona. Here, he was just a guy in my room, relaxed but alert, like he saw right through me.
“You’re flushed,” Gabe said softly.
Because you just had your hands and mouth all over me.
“Probably the altitude,” I muttered.
He grinned, slow and laser-focused. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”