Made For You

Ch. 16: Guilty Pleasures

Sofia

His eyes carry a storm.

They declare a promise that seems to say—this man would fight wars for me. All I have to do I ask.

I am not a fool. The illusion breaks before it can take over my sanity.

He rips himself from me—all six foot four of his sturdy build shoving past me. The towel hangs low around his waist, and he doesn't care about indecency as he drops it completely, exposing a firm backside that has me growing all hot. Heat teases the tips of my fingers as I ogle him while he dries himself before taking out a pair of trousers from the wardrobe, sliding his legs one after the other inside the material.

He snaps the waistband over his hips, turning to face me. He catches my gaze, and a smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he combs his fingers through his wet hair. It is clear he is well aware of how striking his appearance is, and if the opportunity arose, he wouldn't hesitate to use it to his advantage with me.

I find myself looking away, not letting his words echo in my head, tempting me to find different meanings to the layers.

It is when he moves to the bed, adjusting the pillows on one side that I blink.

"Won't you sleep on the floor?" I ask.

He furrows at me, a bemused expression crafting his features. "Why would I do that?"

"Because there's only one bed." I shrug like it's an obvious thing to note.

"Yeah, just like in our room," he says, much to my surprise.

He places himself on the bed, fully stretched, hands behind his head, leaning on the headboard as he watches me with patient concentration. He has the sheer ability to make everything look less than him—even the king-sized bed.

"That's different," I mutter, somewhat gruffly.

"How?" he inquires, looking like he is enjoying my agitation more than I deem appropriate.

Pompous ass!

I wish I could murder him in his sleep without worrying about his beloved made minions shooting me dead at first sight.

"In your room, I'm forced to stay with you." I hug myself, feeling the intimacy of those moments for the first time. "Can't we be separate for once?"

"Do tell me—" he sighs, sounding done with me. "How do you expect us to fuck if you keep yourself at arm's length from me?"

The last thing I need tonight is to think of how Gabriel and fucking could be put together in the same sentence. He can be on his high horse, but I know to control myself. I am not a mess of hormones like he is.

Fucking testosterone-induced jerk!

"That's not what I mean," I clarify, my cheeks burning under his studying gaze as they keep drifting up and down my body. "I...whatever we have to do, we will do it after our marriage."

The thin nightgown he gave me barely covers my thighs. I might be wearing next to nothing. To top it all, the dress has a bow-like design on the front as if I were a present to be unwrapped.

Gabriel shakes his head, exhaling softly, "Senorita, tell me you're joking."

"I'm serious."

He works his jaw, the humor vanishing from his countenance.

"Our wedding isn't happening for a few months. There needs to be some arrangements made. Security, receptions, invitations to the biggest of the city, a spectacle needs to be made so that everyone knows what we as a family stand for—wealth and honor."