Chapter 17 Breaking point
Gavin’s POV
“Fuck.”
The word ripped out of me as my fist slammed into the wall. Pain exploded across my knuckles but I welcomed it. I needed it.
Anything to erase the memory of her body pressed against mine.
I could still feel her. The silk of her dress under my hands. The way her legs had wrapped around my waist. The soft sound she’d made when my mouth found her neck.
And her taste. God, her taste was still on my lips. I could get obsessed with it.
My hand throbbed as blood seeped from split knuckles, dripping onto the hardwood floor.
I stripped off my clothes, leaving them in a pile, and walked into the bathroom. I turned the shower to the coldest setting and stepped under the spray.
Ice water hit my skin like a thousand needles. I hissed through my teeth but didn’t adjust the temperature. I needed something to bring me back from the edge.
But it didn’t work.
Because all I could see was her in the pool. Water streaming down her body, making that black swimsuit cling to every curve. Her hair plastered to her neck. Her eyes wide and trusting as I’d pulled her against my chest.
My hand moved down my body without permission.
This was wrong. So fucking wrong.
But I couldn’t stop myself.I felt murderous, the thought of Troy flimsy hands on her was enough to throw me over the edge.
I wrapped my hand around my cock, already hard from just thinking about her. I stroked myself slowly, water cascading over my shoulders.
In my mind, it was her hand. Her small fingers wrapped around me. Her mouth was hot and eager,with her lips parted.
I braced my free hand against the tile, breathing hard.
She’d wanted me. I’d felt it in the way she kissed me back. In the desperate way she’d ground against me, I had to stop myself from fucking her with my fingers.
My strokes grew faster.
I imagined pushing that silk dress up around her waist. Spreading her thighs. Hearing her gasp my name.
The water turned my thoughts hazy. My breath came in harsh pants. The pressure built, coiling tight in my spine.
This was so fucking wrong.
But I couldn’t stop. Not now.
Her name fell from my lips as I came, harsh and guttural. My hand worked me through it until the last shudder passed.
Then I stood there under the freezing water,with my forehead pressed against the tile, hating myself.
What kind of man jacked off thinking about his fiancée’s daughter?
I was definitely going straight to hell.
I finally turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel. My knuckles had stopped bleeding but they’d bruise by morning.
My phone buzzed on the counter. Victor’s name flashed on the screen.
I answered. “Kane.”
“Gavin! My God, when I got your call earlier, I couldn’t believe it.” His voice was practically vibrating with excitement. “You never ask me for favors. Never. In fifteen years of friendship, you’ve asked me for exactly nothing. And then tonight, you call asking me to save some kid’s art exhibition?”
“She’s talented.”
“She’s exceptional,” he corrected. “I looked at her portfolio before I made the purchase. That girl has a real future. So thank you for bringing her to my attention.”
I dried off with rough movements. “You don’t owe me thanks.”
“The hell I don’t. You’ve turned down every invitation I’ve sent for five years. But you call me for this girl?” He laughed. “She must be pretty special.”
My jaw tightened. “She’s my fiancée’s daughter’s best friend.”
“Ah.” A pause. “And how is the lovely Diana? Still planning that wedding?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t sound thrilled about it.”
“Victor.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll mind my business.” But I could hear the knowing tone in his voice. “Anyway, the girl’s work will be delivered to my gallery by tomorrow. I’m already thinking about where to display it. This could launch her career, you know.”
“That’s the idea.”
“You’re a good man, Gavin Cross. Even if you are a miserable bastard most of the time.”
“Goodnight, Victor.”
He laughed and hung up.
I pulled on sleep pants and walked toward my bedroom, eith my phone still in hand.
The light was on inside.
Diana sat on the edge of my bed, still dressed in her gown from the charity event. She looked up when I entered, a smile on her face that faltered the moment she saw my hand.
“Gavin! What happened?” She was on her feet instantly, rushing toward me. Her fingers wrapped gently around my injured hand, examining the split knuckles with worried eyes. “Did you get into a fight?”
Guilt twisted in my chest.
“It’s nothing. I hit the wall.”
“You hit the—” She looked up at me, confusion and concern mixing on her face. “Why would you do that?”
“Frustration. Work stuff.”
The lie tasted like ash.
“Come here.” She tugged me toward the bathroom. “Let me clean this up properly.”
She was gentle as she cleaned the blood, applied antiseptic, and wrapped my knuckles in gauze. Her touch was tender and caring. Everything a man should want from his fiancée.
“There.” She smiled up at me. “All better.”
I looked at her.
She was beautiful. Kind. Patient. She’d been nothing but understanding about my long hours, my cold demeanor, my distance.
She deserved better than what I was giving her.
I grabbed her, pulling her against me. My mouth found hers in a kiss that was desperate.
I needed to feel something to prove to myself that this thing with Melissa was just physical attraction. Just forbidden fruit syndrome.
Diana kissed me back, she was surprised but willing. Her hands came up to my chest.
But all I saw was brown hair instead of blonde. All I felt was the wrong body in my arms. All I tasted was the wrong mouth.
I pulled back, my chest tight.
Diana’s eyes were soft, hopeful. “Are you okay? You’ve been so distant lately.”
“I’m fine.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Just tired.”
“Come to bed then.” She took my hand, leading me toward the mattress. “You’ve been working too hard.”
I let her pull me down. She curled against my side, with her head on my chest. Within minutes, her breathing evened out into sleep.
But I lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
Two doors down, Melissa was in her bed. Probably still awake. thinking about what happened in my office.
My hand throbbed. My cock was already half-hard again just thinking about her.
Diana shifted in her sleep, murmuring something soft.
I was the worst kind of man.
The kind who lay in bed with one woman while thinking about another.
The kind who was engaged to a good woman but wanted her daughter with an intensity that bordered on obsession. Maybe I’m no different from my father.