Chapter 5 5

Raquel

Three days. Three more days pass and I still don't hear from Dad.

Three days since my almost kiss with Gabriel in the kitchen.

Three days since he turned on his heels without further explanation, leaving me both confused, curious, and horny as hell. He may be a handsome fucker, but his inability to finish a complete conversation is really starting to grind my gears.

I pace around the bedroom in endless circles, both because I'm growing restless and because I figure the exercise will help my body recover faster. My joints still ache, and my bruises are still tender, but overall, I'm feeling right as rain.

I give up and sit on the edge of the bed, my mind spinning.

There's so much for me to unpack about my run-in with Gabriel, and by the looks of things, I have more than enough time to do so. I lie down on the bed sheets, quietly stewing.

The Red Ravens were mine until I let him take over.

I don't believe what Gabriel said was true. Dad's been the leader of the Red Ravens for as long as I can remember, for well before I was born. He never mentioned stepping into the role. Hell, up until a few days ago, I didn't even know Gabriel existed. But what reason would Gabriel have to lie? I desperately want answers, but the man's proving to be a tough nut to crack.

I close my eyes and think about the tattoo on his arm, tracing the edges of my own with the tip of my finger.

We match, I think amusedly.

What do you want from me?

I can still feel the ghost of his breath against my lips, my cheeks. When I close my eyes, I can very clearly picture him leaning in that last millimeter or so to seal the deal. The memory of the hard press of his erection between my thighs makes me overheat.

No one's ever touched me like that before. My heart beats twice as fast just thinking about it. If he'd kissed me, would I have let him?

A complete stranger, a man twice my age.

Goosebumps trail along my arms at the realization that, yes, actually, I would have. Now I can't stop thinking about his hands on my body, the blanketing weight of his chest against my back, the way he towered over me with that indescribable look in his eye.

I press my knees together, unable to deny the hot pulse between my legs. Without thinking, I slip a hand beneath the band of my pants and underwear, teasing my folds with a finger. My finger slides against my clit, my pussy slick with my own arousal.

It's not like I have some snooty view on virginity and sex. I'm not saving myself or trying to remain pure or anything like that. I've had many opportunities to sleep with someone, but the timing was never right. I've been much too focused on stealing art and priceless jewels over stealing hearts. Thieves keep odd hours, too, so I couldn't mosey on down to the local club and mingle the old-fashioned way.

I lick my lips and squeeze my eyes shut, imagining the hand touching me is bigger, rougher. I imagine a deep, gruff voice uttering sweet French endearments against my ear. A soft moan escapes my lips, heat flooding my cheeks and radiating off my skin.

"What the hell am I doing?" I grumble to myself, though I don't stop the teasing.

I know this is a bad idea, fantasizing about a man I know next to nothing about, but surely what happens behind closed doors in the privacy of my own thoughts is my own damn business. A part of me feels stupid for indulging. I've got a million and one more important things to worry about, but my body doesn't seem to understand what my brain does. Slowly but surely, my thoughts give in to my fleeting desires and I'm helpless to stop them from wandering.

I wonder what it would feel like to have Gabriel on top of me. Would he be rough or gentle? Would he make fun of me and my inexperience? Would it hurt?

A tight coil of pressure builds within my core. I rub myself a little faster, a little rougher until I can feel myself teetering on the edge of the crest.

What do you want from me?

In one fell swoop, I plummet over the edge, adrenaline and euphoria flooding through my veins. My brain momentarily blanks, a warm and fuzzy sensation wrapping my whole body.

Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of time to relish in my post-orgasm haze because the sound of a little girl crying reaches my ear. I shoot out of bed, daring to peek out of the bedroom door. Somewhere down the hall, I can hear Odette sniffling and whining, not quite able to call for help, though her distress is clear.

"Mon Dieu!" the housekeeper cries. She says something in French, speaking to the little girl in what can only be described as a panic. "Monsieur Rochefort!" she cries over her shoulder.

I hear him before I see him.

Heavy footsteps thud up the creaky wooden steps. Gabriel's hulking frame comes into view like a charging bull. Curious and a bit alarmed, I leave the confines of the bedroom and step out into the hall. I find him and Penelope outside a door, so I assume little Odette must be on the other side.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"She wash hands," Penelope says, her English broken and heavily accented. "Too slippery for unlock."

"Back up," Gabriel says. "Going to kick it open."

He rears back like he's really going to shove his heel through the wood, but I quickly step in front of him, one hand on his chest.

"Would you relax, Rambo? You might hurt Odette if you start bashing things in. Not to mention ruin a perfectly good door."

"I have to get my daughter out."

I smirk. "Lucky for you, there isn't a lock I can't crack. I'll be right back."

After returning to the bedroom, I quickly snatch up my tools and return to the door, easily selecting one of my thinner picks. This is a standard privacy doorknob with a center pin hole. I crouch down, shove the pick in and feel around, applying just enough pressure to make out the outline of the latch mechanism. This process is second nature to me, a cake walk. I have the door open in less than five seconds, the knob twisting free of the frame with a satisfying rush of air.

Odette rushes out, throwing her arms around my neck as she sniffles against my shoulder. I laugh softly, rubbing small circles against her back.

"There, there, sweetie," I coo. "Everything's okay now."

She mumbles something I don't understand, but I'm more aware of the way Gabriel bristles behind me. Penelope shoots Gabriel a bewildered look, but his eyes remain squarely on me. His expression is unreadable, so I can't tell if he's annoyed or appreciative, though the latter seems far less likely.

"What did she say?" I ask him.

"She said she was scared," he translates. I don't know what to make of his tone.

I return my attention to Odette with a gentle smile. She has her father's eyes. "There's nothing to be scared about. Here, let me show you what to do next time." I take her hand and show her the lock, pointing while speaking slow enough for Gabriel to translate. "Next time, make sure your hands are nice and dry. All you have to do is pinch -like this- and twist."

Odette dries her little eyes with the backs of her hands and puts on a grateful smile. "Merci," she says softly.

"Oh, Monsieur Rochefort, it is miracle," Penelope whispers behind me.

I twist slightly where I'm kneeling to look at them. "What are you talking about?"

"She does not speak," the woman continues. "Too 'ard for 'er since accident-"

"Arrêt," Gabriel snaps.Stop.

Penelope promptly shuts her mouth.

"Accident?" I echo. "What accident?"

"You ask too many questions," he grumbles. He speaks to Penelope quickly, who promptly nods and ushers Odette downstairs.

The moment we're alone, I cross my arms and ask, "What's your problem?"

"You. You are my problem."

I work my jaw, a flicker of annoyance licking at the back of my neck. "Fine. I'll pack my things and leave. I'm sorry to have been such a massive inconvenience."

"You are not going anywhere."

"Which is it ,Pierre?" I spit out his fake name venomously. "You clearly want to get rid of me, so just let me go. It's really that simple."

"It is not simple at all."

"Then explain it to me."

"No."

I let out a frustrated groan. "I'm leaving. I've wasted too much time waiting for Dad. He's out there somewhere and he needs me." I try to move, but Gabriel takes a step forward and blocks my path. "Move," I command.

"No."

"I'm starting to think that's the only thing you know how to say."

"You will remain here until Chet retrieves you. It is for your own safety."

"What's stopping me from packing up and walking straight out the front door?"

"Try it and find out."

I glare up at him, growing more and more irritated at the fact that he's still as expressionless and cold as stone. Was our almost kiss three nights ago a part of a fever dream? There's no way that the man standing before me and the one who pinned me against the kitchen counter are the same person.

I step to my right. He blocks me.

I step to my left. He blocks me again.

I prepare to shove right past him, but then I catch a glimpse of something. An amused, subtle glint in his dark eyes. And that's when I come to a sudden realization.

"Is this a game to you?" I murmur, my heart racing in my chest.

"I am far too old to play games," is his low reply.

The way he looks at me shouldn't excite me as much as it does. The butterflies in my stomach flutter, a familiar heat pooling in my core. I don't know how much more of this hot and cold treatment I can take.

With one final breath, I make a break for it.

I shove past him and sprint back to my room. If I'm fast enough, I can gather what little gear I have, vault over the bed, duck Gabriel like a running back, and throw myself down the stairs and out the front door before he even knows what's happened.

Just as I manage to get my hands on the burner phone at my bedside table, Gabriel is right behind me. I didn't even hear him coming, his nimble swiftness a complete shock for someone his size.

"Out of my way," I grumble, but my command falls on deaf ears.

I try to circle around him, but all it takes is for Gabriel to shove me back with one hand. The back of my knees hit the mattress, instinctively forcing me to sit.

I try again.

"Let me go!"

This time I manage to get around him... only for Gabriel to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder. I gasp, indignant and mortified at how easy this is for him. He unceremoniously deposits me back on the bed like I'm nothing more than a sack of coal.

I immediately hop off the bed again only for Gabriel to grab me by the waist, use my momentum to spin us around, and then release me so I fall face-first into the mattress.

I slam my fist against the sheets. "For fuck's sake!" I roar, spinning around again to make a third attempt.

This time when he throws me, he climbs on top and pins my body beneath his. He grasps my wrists and keeps them flattened to the sheets above my head, our faces inches from each other. I attempt to fight back, to twist free, but the sexy French asshole is too strong and heavy for me to make any real progress. I've got fight in me, but not the body mass to back it up, and my ribs have started to throb.

"Are you quite done?" he asks.

I manage to rip my hand free and take a swing. He dodges the blow with an amused chuckle before recapturing my hand.

"Feisty little bird, aren't you?" he muses.

"Call me a little bird one more time and I'll bite your damn face off!"

"Is that a promise, little bird?"

"Let go of me."

"Someone's clearly feeling better."

"Yeah. Good enough to kick your ass."

"Oh? And how's that working out for you?"

A brief pause takes hold of us, nothing but our labored breathing and war drum hearts to fill the silence. It occurs to me then how close we are, our bodies melded together and our lips hovering an inch or so away. Anticipation boils in the pit of my stomach.

Is this bastard going to kiss me or not?

I'm simultaneously alarmed and thrilled by the idea. Especially so when I feel the hard bulge in the front of his pants grinding against my core. I gulp air, equal parts amazed and anxious at howbighis cock feels nudging my inner thigh.

A sudden desire grabs me by the throat.

Good God, it should be illegal to smell this good.

Gabriel regards me with a conflicted look in his eyes. Does he know what he's doing to me? Can he sense my arousal? Can he tell how badly I want to make good on my promise and sink my teeth into him? He's clearly just as affected as I am, so why isn't he doing anything about it? Do Iwanthim to do anything about it?

The answer is a resoundingfuck yes.

My phone goes off.

My heart leaps into my throat.

Gabriel releases me without hesitation, appearing almost as eager as I am to answer. I answer the call, hands shaking.

"Dad?" I rasp. "Dad, are you okay? Thank God, I was really starting to worry-"

"Hello, Rocky," a pitchy voice that most certainly does not belong to my father answers my frantic words.

Lucius Loran, our absentee getaway driver.