Page 108 of Possessive Sinner
Heat creeps into my cheeks. Pete was always good about telling me how beautiful he thought I was, but the words coming from Gabe turn my insides liquidy.
"You clean up well," I manage, because saying anything more feels dangerous.
His mouth twitches, but his eyes don't lose that edge of something sharper. "So do you."
"You sent… an entire store," I find my voice. "That seems a little excessive."
"Did it work?" he asks.
I hesitate because the answer is standing right here between us, six-foot-four of lethal elegance wrapped in a black Tom Ford suit, looking at me like he already owns every secret I haven't admitted yet.
"Yes," I admit quietly.
His gaze drops again, slower this time, dragging down the black silk that clings to my body like it was poured over me. The dress is sinful—tight through the waist, plunging just enough in the front to make breathing feel dangerous. When his eyes climb back up, they're darker.
"Yeah," he murmurs, almost to himself. "It did."
The air between us feels too thick, too hot. I can still taste the guilt on the back of my tongue, but it doesn't stop the low pulse that starts between my thighs every time he looks at me like that. I loved Pete, really loved him, once upon a time, but it had taken me months to realize it. And yet Gabe walked into my life and the attraction hit me like a freight train—immediate, violent, undeniable. He holds out his hand. "You ready?"
It's such a simple question and yet, not simple at all. I have no idea what I'm ready for when it comes to him. I don't ask.Instead, I slide my fingers into his. His grip is warm, firm, possessive. The kind of hold that saysminewithout a single word. I throw one last hesitant glance toward Mom's door.
"Relax," Gabe's voice is that deep baritone that makes my stomach do all kinds of funny things. "Mario and Jack are here to babysit."
As if they heard him, a short knock sounds, and the two men step inside, Mario, with his quiet, watchful eyes, and Jack, who nods respectfully at Gabe before offering me a small smile.
"She'll be well taken care of," Mario promises.
Gabe doesn't even look at them. His focus stays locked on me as he pulls me gently toward the private elevator. The doors slide shut, and suddenly we're alone, descending toward the casino floor.
"So where are we going?" I want to know.
He smirks; his expression is pure sin. "You'll see."
The black dress whispers against my thighs as I shift. "Why black?"
His eyes flick down to my deep square neckline, then back up. "Because it looks fucking lethal on you."
Heat crawls up my neck. I should be taken aback by his words and the force behind them, but I'm not. Not in the least. Every word feels like a slow caress across bare skin.
The elevator opens directly into the opulent casino. The moment we step out, the atmosphere shifts. Heads turn. Men in tailored suits straighten, offering Gabe respectful nods, some even dip their chins like they're acknowledging a king. Women… God, the women. Their gazes slide over him with open hunger, then flick to me with sharp, assessing jealousy. A strange, possessive warmth blooms in my chest. Not smugness exactly. Something deeper.Pride.He could have any of them. Yet his hand stays possessively at the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd like I'm the only woman in the room.
With Razor, it had been different; women wanted him because he was dangerous, deadly. And Pete… well… These people don't just want Gabe. Theyrespecthim. Fear him. And I'm the one on his arm. My stomach flips when he leads me toward a private staircase instead of the main floor.
"Gabe?"
He glances down at me, that wicked smirk deepening. "Still asking questions, Audra?"
We reach the upper level. The hallway is quieter, heavier with money and power. When the double doors open to the high-stakes room, my breath catches.
Dim lighting gets swallowed by the thick carpet. Several tables, all bathed in soft golden light, are spread throughout the room. I count twenty of them. Gabe steers me towards one where five men are already seated, each radiating the kind of dangerous elegance that makes the air feel thinner.
Gabe's hand presses firmer against my back as we step closer. My stomach does a full somersault.
"Really?" I whisper, tugging on his arm. "You're taking me to apoker game?"
He leans down, his lips brush my ear, his voice feels like velvet and smoke. "Not just any poker game, baby. This one happens once a year. Entry fee is five million."
Before I can respond, he guides me forward. All eyes turn to us.
