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This chapter contains quite some sexy stuff, which starts about halfway through the story, because I finally figured out how to work sex in my story.
It is an expanded and edited version of
Stranded Seduction in Summer Shower
. The chapter now reveals a lot more plot and character development; the sex scene is largely the same, but thoroughly edited. Hopefully this creates a better reading experience.
Special thanks to Chas, who had the patience to correct all my embarrassing mistakes.
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Chapter 4
The downpour had rendered the night into a misty blur; the lights of the city against the darkness blended the vista into one Impressionistic canvas.
"You ready?" Gabriel asked Rosaline as he extended the umbrella at the edge of the marquee.
She nodded, tucking herself under the nylon canopy.
And then they braved the fury of the summer rainstorm.
It was a ten-minute walk to her apartment on a sunny day, but the stormy rain had turned the short walk ahead into an infinite outdoor shower. Gabriel let the water drench his uncovered side, providing more coverage for Rosaline and hoped that the rain would pour some sense into him.
Droplets pooled at the end of the umbrella rib in rapid succession, landing on her bare shoulder. Following the soft curves there, they rolled themselves down her tanned arm. Her wet sundress flattened against the swell of her breast, the dimple in her waist and the outline of her shapely thigh.
A distant thunder roared, and Rosaline jumped out from her skin. Gabriel gathered her in his embrace, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, protecting her from the elements. Then he felt her relax; she drew herself closer, her arm gliding around his waist and her soft breast pressed against his chest.
"Don't get ideas," he teased against her ear. He had enough ideas for both of them.
She lifted her gaze to him, eyes wide with feigned horror, soft plump lips agape. He grew hard at those lips; his cock strained against the wet jeans. The rain had turned the walk into a Müller-Lyer line; its distance depended entirely on his pleasure and torment.
When she twisted the key of the front gate to her apartment building, and the warm yellow glow spilled through the gaping door, he thought he saw the light at the end.
"Where are you going?" The lilt in her voice tempted, enshrouding him, stilling his halfway turn.
"Back to the parking garage to pick up my car," he said.
"In this rain?"
"I'm already soaked." He shrugged, his wet clothes like his second skin.
Her pretty brow furrowed; a droplet rolled from the end down her cheek and soft jaw. "You should come in and dry your clothes."
He should not.
He should stick to his fucking plan, the thing that he had been deviating from since the first day they met. He would hand her in to The Order when the time came, The Order would grant him his freedom and he would not care how they wanted to use her. Like he had said to Max, he could save one girl's life or potentially a hundred girls' by turning the one girl in.
It was bad enough that he wanted to hit the book agent yesterday, and that since then, he had almost kissed her twice; then he had to invite her to dinner like a love-struck idiot, spending the entire dinner alternating between adoring her laughter and getting a hard-on.
But he would die with the memory of that smile on her lips when she drew away from him after telling him that he was more than she expected. He had wanted to hug her close, but Max's gaze stopped him short.
"Come on," she said over her shoulder, glistening and beckoning him like a goddess born in the sea.
He chose one over a hundred.
Gabriel huffed a dry laugh and followed her upstairs, dripping his way behind her, leaving a trail of darkened wet spots on the carpet of the hallway.
"If you could take off your clothes and leave them by the entrance, that would be great," she said when she opened the door to her apartment. "And no shoes, please."
"Should I put on a dance for you in the meantime?"
She blinked at him, then the implication dawned.
"The water will stain the floor," she said, blushing like she could not stop conjuring up the image.
"Ah, yes, the floor," he said. He had already kicked off his shoes. Wet socks were the next to go.
His toes curled against the wooden floor. It felt good; for when he felt grounded by the solid floor, he could not be feeling her.
He should dry his clothes and leave. He would. He just did not know if he could.
His hands moved quickly to the hem of his t-shirt and started to pry the fabric from his skin when she stopped him. "Wait."
He lifted an eyebrow at her, arms crossed in front of his chest, t-shirt halfway up his torso. He traced her gaze to find his own soft hair at the base of his belly button and the downy trail leading down into the V-shape frame that disappeared into his jeans.
"When you are done, can you bring some towels to me from the bedroom dresser?" she asked, waving her hand in the general direction of the bedroom, and tracked her eyes down his body, licking her lips. "And one to cover yourself."
But then she turned around in the dimly-lit doorway; her own wet dress clung to her every curve, contouring her slim waist and full hips.
"What are you doing?" he asked, amusement and mischief brimming his question.
"You need some privacy," she replied immediately.
Gabriel almost laughed. When she looked at him like that, with heated lust and molten desire, and when she licked her lips while doing so, she did not get to turn around and face the door without getting a taste of her own medicine.
"Aren't we past that?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I could've sworn you told me to strip," he said.
"I said to take off your clothes."
"Now you're just citing synonyms."
"Because you won't take off your clothes," she said and she heard how it sounded before letting out an embarrassed gasp.
Gabriel laughed. "Know that, Rosaline, I will gladly strip for you anytime."
The only indication that she had heard him was a tiny whimper that seemed to have accidentally escaped her.
He willed his swelling cock down, concentrating on the feeling of being dry, working at his belt buckle to remove himself from the soaked jeans and boxers. The metal hit the floor with a soft thud. He then padded his way in the general direction of her bedroom.
Except he went the opposite way and ended up going into her kitchen. Totally by accident. He crossed his heart.
"The other way." Her instruction bounced its way from the entrance when he kicked a chair.
"Which way?"
"To the left, I mean my right"—she paused to orientate herself—"wait."
