Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel)

Gabriel POV

I stood in my office, fuming-or at least, that's what I told myself.

But the moment our eyes met, the fire in my chest shifted into something else.

Clairessa stood across the desk, arms crossed tightly, her lips pressed into a furious line.

She didn't speak. She didn't need to.

Her silence said everything.

And still... I couldn't concentrate on the anger in her expression—because all I could see was how damn beautiful she looked.

Her hair was still damp from the shower, soft strands clinging to her cheeks, framing her face with an effortless kind of beauty that didn't feel real.

I wanted to run my fingers through the tangles, smooth them back, drag the ends across my skin... just to see if they still carried that familiar hint of vanilla.

God, I used to love that scent.

Sweet. Warm. Hers.

Or had she changed it?

I couldn't tell from here, and it pissed me off that I even cared.

My eyes dropped before I could stop them.

She wore oversized joggers that swallowed her legs, but even beneath all that fabric, I could still trace the shape of her hips.

My body remembered.

How they felt pressed against me.

Wrapped around me. Moving with me in the dark.

My throat tightened.

Then my gaze climbed to that worn sweatshirt clinging to her frame. Too thin to hide the swell of her breasts.

My jaw clenched.

She wasn't wearing a bra.

I didn't need a second look. I just knew.

And damn me—I wondered... if I reached for her now, slipped my hands beneath that fabric, cupped those perfect mounds again—would her body still respond to me the same way?

Would her back arch the second my fingers brushed over her nipples?

Would she moan-soft and breathless-eyes fluttering shut like I was still the only man who knew how to touch her?

Fuck.

I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to shake it off.

I came here to warn her-to make it clear she'd never pull that stunt with me again.

She didn't get to challenge me. Not here. Not under my roof.

She was on my terms now.

And yet... all the fury I'd been clinging to had dissolved-melting away piece by piece into something far more dangerous.

Suppressed desire.

A hunger I'd spent weeks trying-and failing to kill.

But now it was awake. Alive. Throbbing low and hard, causing a brutal ache in my pants.

I wanted to kiss her until her lips were swollen.

Trace every inch of her skin.

Claim her like she still belonged to me.

I wanted to bury my cock so deep inside her, she'd have no choice but to scream

my name and beg for more.

Then she broke the silence.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

I blinked, forcing my gaze up from her neckline to her face.

She was furious-and rightfully so.

Me? I feigned confusion. My voice came out smoother than it should've.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she fired back. "You stopped me from leaving. Pulled that macho stunt right in front of him. What the hell do you think that looked like?"

I could've answered. Should've.

But the way she was standing-so close, chest rising with every breath-I couldn't think.

"Speak," she snapped, slamming her palms on my desk. "Say something." "You think just because I signed that contract," she hissed, eyes narrowing, "you own me?"

I leaned back against the wall, lips curling into a slow, deliberate smirk.

"I'm glad you remember signing it. That means I do own you. And you don't get to walk out on me. Not now. Not ever."

Her eyes burned, but she didn't flinch-she never did. Instead, she crossed the room, shoved a finger into my chest.

"Then you're more deluded than I thought. You don't own me, Gabriel. No one does. And I can walk away from you-or anyone-whenever the hell decide. So get that straight."

My hand shot out and caught her wrist as I pulled her flush against me.

Her small, warm body slammed into mine. The contact sent a bolt of heat straight through me.

Weeks of torture. Weeks of distance, of watching her, wanting her, needing her.

It felt like a slow death-having her this close, under the same roof, and not being able to touch her.

But now she was in my arms. Her breath brushed against my jaw, and I nearly lost

it.

And in that moment, the thing I'd spent weeks denying stared me in the face.

I missed her.

Missed the way she filled a room.

Missed the sound of her voice.

Her laughter.

Her rage.

The way she glared at me like she wanted to both kill me and kiss me in the same

breath.

Lately, I'd been dragging myself home after midnight, convincing myself that

distance would dull whatever this was between us.

But I'd been lying.

Because it didn't help. Not even close.

If anything, it left me starving for her.

I met her eyes, saw the fire burning behind them—and felt it catch in my own

chest.

My hand slid around her waist,

pulling her in until there was no

space left between us. I needed

to feel it-the hunger, the ache that had been eating at me for weeks.

Screw the cold showers I'd taken every night trying to forget her. None of it

worked.

When her hips grazed my arousal, she gasped-soft, breathless, like the shock of

it lit her nerves on fire.

That sound alone nearly snapped the last thread of control I had.

My fingers trailed along the curve of her back, slow and sensual, rising until they

disappeared into the damp strands of her hair.

I didn't think I just moved.

Buried my face in her neck and inhaled.

Her scent wrapped around me.

Still the same conditioner.

Vanilla.

Sweet. Familiar. Addictive as hell.

I nuzzled along the curve of her throat, then lower-pausing at the swell betweennoveldrama

her breasts.

Her head tilted back for just a second.

Her body tensed, like she was at war with herself-resisting the feelings I stirred

in her.

But she didn't pull away.

Her lips parted. Her breath hitched.

It was all the invitation I needed.

My hands slid upward, claiming her breasts-slow at first, then firmer, needier, like I'd starved for the feel of her. She arched into my palms the second my thumbs swept over her nipples, teasing them through the useless fabric until they tightened into stiff peaks-begging for more, just like I was.

She whimpered-then shoved at my chest, hard. But I didn't let go.

"Stop," she snapped. "Stop this madness. Just... stop."

But her voice trembled, and her breathing was erratic.

She didn't mean it.

Not completely.

And that-that was the most dangerous part.