J. Margot Critch - Forbidden Sins

Gabe held his glass aloft. “To us.”

“To new starts,” she added, clinking her glass with his.

They sipped their champagne, watching each other over the rims of their glasses, and she sighed when Gabe made the first move, dropping his hand on her thigh.

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he told her.

High-class club or dive bar, men, it seemed, were the same all over. She rolled her eyes. “That’s original,” she told him. Ellie wondered how many women fell for a line, especially when it was uttered by a man who looked like Gabe. He would have to do better than that.

“Okay, what if I asked you if your legs were tired?”

“Or if it hurt when I fell from heaven?”

“Well, that’s it, I guess.” He moved his arm away and shrugged. She missed his warmth almost immediately, and all she wanted was for him to put his arm back, to touch her again. “Those are all of my good lines.” He laughed, a deep, rich sound that filled the space around them, and he raised his glass to his mouth and drained it. He leaned toward the table and poured himself another. “More?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” she said, holding her own now-empty glass out. He filled it and she sipped again. The carbonated bubbles tickled her nose.

Gabe’s hand found her thigh again, and somehow, through the lust-and-champagne-heavy fog, a moment of clarity shone through. Ellie backed away slightly. “Wait a minute,” she said, and he removed his hand, leaning away from her, thankfully giving her the space she needed, where she wasn’t under the influence of him and whatever cologne he was wearing. But when she caught her breath, all she longed for was another indulgent breath of him.

But she didn’t do this. Ellie Carrington didn’t fall so hard for men. She didn’t chase them. She didn’t jump into bed with just any good-looking guy. She needed to keep her cool. She wanted Gabe, and she could tell he wanted her. But he was going to have to work for it. She couldn’t let him know that he’d already won her over.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Don’t think that just because you got us this table and forked over way too much money for this bottle of champagne, I’m going to sleep with you,” she warned him. Even though Ellie would probably end the evening riding him like a cowgirl, he didn’t have to know it would be that easy.

A quick grin split his face. Those dimples again. “What makes you think I’m going to ask to sleep with you?”

She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her thigh. “The way you’re looking at me, the expensive champagne. Stuff like that normally comes with a price, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I know what you mean, but maybe I’m thirsty.”

“I’ll bet you are.” She quirked an eyebrow and he laughed.

“Maybe I wanted to share a drink with a beautiful woman.” He took a drink from his glass, as if to prove his point. “But so we’re clear, Ellie, there’s no obligation on either of our parts here. We can just sit here, two strangers sharing a bottle of champagne. And if the evening leads to more—and I hope it does—that’s great. If not...” he shrugged and drank again. “Who knows, later tonight you might be begging me to fuck you—” she nearly crumbled at his use of the word, but he shook his head “—and I’ll just put you in a cab to go home.”

Ellie laughed, knowing he was full of it. She could see the way that he looked at her, the way he’d caressed her thigh, and knew that if she was willing, there was no way he’d be putting her in a car. At that moment, Ellie knew that she would end up in bed with this man that evening. There was no other option. She felt powerless to the hold he had over her, his captivating emerald eyes, the upward curve of his lush lips. Ellie didn’t make a habit of sleeping around, or having one-night stands—nor would she judge anyone who did—not since she’d left her partying days behind her, but as she watched Gabe over the rim of her glass, she knew she would make an exception for him. Ellie was intrigued by Gabe, and she liked him already. So, she decided not to fight whatever was happening between them, and drank her champagne instead.

* * *

After an hour, the lights at the bar had dimmed a little, setting a more intimate mood. Gabe poured the last few drops of champagne into his glass, returned the bottle to the ice bucket upside down, and settled back in the booth, feeling as mellow and relaxed as he possibly could with the intense hum of desire buzzing through him. Ellie had kept her position, turned facing him, her long legs curled so her feet were underneath her, knees resting on his thigh, dangerously close to his dick.

He wasn’t sure when he’d last enjoyed the company of a woman like Ellie. She was gorgeous and sexy, but she was also smart, quick, funny, and they shared some sort of connection that had eluded him for a while now. She was easy to talk to, and when the server came back, he didn’t want to leave so they ordered another bottle.

“So, what are you doing on the Strip tonight?” she asked. “I might be new in town, but I know that this is mainly a tourist place.”

Gabe thought about his response. With his friends all busy with their own lives, he had headed out on a solo mission. Not wanting to be alone in his empty house, the Strip seemed like a good way to kill a night. He’d been right. He’d been craving excitement. Something different. Something new. Something wild before he signed his life away to Charles Burnham, his boss and mentor, and as he looked over at Ellie, he knew he’d found it with her. “I came here tonight because I knew I wouldn’t see anyone I know here. I was looking for something different.”

He could feel Ellie watching him and he knew he’d revealed too much. “It feels like there’s a story there,” she said.

She’d hit the nail on the head, but he felt like a spoiled fool for complaining about all of his blessings and the success he’d had in his career. “There is. But not one I’m interested in telling.”

She leaned closer to him, as if she were studying him. The air between them had become even more charged. Heated. It was a point of no return for him, as they both moved in slow motion. With his fingertips, he caressed her smooth jaw and drew her closer. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath.

The second her lips touched his, he was a goner. A gentle caress at first, testing her boundaries, he took her bottom lip between the two of his and nipped. Her sigh urged him on, and he stroked his tongue against the seam of her lips, before she opened to him, allowing him access to her hot, wet mouth. Soon, the kiss wasn’t enough. He grasped Ellie around the waist and lifted her, settling her onto his lap, so that her thighs straddled his. She moaned into his mouth and the sound shot straight to his dick. He was hard, and she ground against him, and she felt so good, it stole his breath when she tilted her head and deepened the kiss.

His hands went to her ass, and he held her in place and controlled her movements as he ran her hot core against his length. Christ, Gabe wanted her, and he pulled away. He surveyed their surroundings—the walls of the nook kept them obscured from the view of the other bar patrons. He could take her right there, but a part of him held back. That sort of behavior would be welcome at Di Terrestres—he cursed himself for not bringing her there—but not in a booth at a public club. Whether or not they were in Las Vegas—Sin City—public decency laws still applied. “Fuck, I want you, Ellie,” he breathed against her skin, his fingers digging into her waist. He cursed his more practical, law-abiding side.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one begging.”