Managed (VIP #2)(42)

I flush, thinking of how we could f*ck hard and fast without fear of any consequences. And just maybe he’s thinking the same thing.

Only he abruptly stands and walks to a bar across from the door. “Would you like a drink?”

“No tea?” I’m nervous now that I know this isn’t about firing me.

He glances over his shoulder at me. “Would you like some?”

“No.” I need something stronger. “Bourbon?”

With a nod of approval, he pours us both a good helping. I don’t miss the way his hand trembles just once as he passes me the glass. He gives me a tight smile and takes the seat across from me.

The coach is absolutely silent as we sip our bourbon and watch each other warily. He still hasn’t told me anything, and I’m pretty sure I just made a fool of myself. So, yeah.

Gabriel expels a soft sigh and gently sets his glass on a small, chrome table. The click of glass to metal is like a gunshot to my overtaxed nerves.

“I can’t sleep,” he tells me with a small, self-deprecating shake of his head. I stare at him, unable to respond, and he meets my eyes. “Not a f*cking wink.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I empathize. I can’t sleep either. I’ve become some mental princess and the pea. My bed is too hard, the pillow too soft. I toss and turn, my eyes wide open. I’m either too cold or too hot. It’s a freaking nightmare. And I think way too much about a certain grumpy man who currently sits in front of me, looking a bit like sleep-deprived death warmed over.

His smile is brief and weak. “I slept that night.” Blue eyes meet mine. “When it rained.”

Something hot and strong rushes through my limbs. I slept then too. So well. All warm and snug, wrapped up in strong arms. Sometimes, when I’m really weak, I close my eyes and try to remember the exact feeling of Gabriel’s hard body behind mine. Try to recall his exact scent. If I’m lucky, I drift off to sleep thinking of that night.

He thinks of that night too. I might turn into a puddle of mush. I manage to keep still, though.

Gabriel leans forward, bracing his forearms on his bent knees. “I want to hire you.”

My mushy feels solidify a bit. That wasn’t what I expected. I take a hasty sip of bourbon and lick my dry lips. “I’m… Okay, I’m not following.”

A dull flush washes over the high crests of his cheeks. “I want you to sleep with me.”

“Uh…what?” I can’t form better words.

“Just sleep,” he clarifies quickly. “I…bloody hell…I sleep when you’re there. I have to sleep.” For a second, he looks so weak, the circles under his eyes deeper and bruised. So weary. “You can stay here, travel with me. The compensation will be—”

“Sunshine,” I cut in. “Are you seriously trying to pay me to sleep in a bed with you every night?”

And holy hell, if his tense, straining body language is anything to go by, he wants this badly. I’m so shocked I have to take another sip of my drink. God, the idea is tempting. But dangerous. He hasn’t said, “Sophie, I want you and can’t live another night without you.” He’s trying to hire me, for f*ck’s sake.

He sits straight, his jaw clenched. “Look, I know it’s ridiculous.”

“It is,” I agree, heartily.

His expression goes blank. “You’re right.”

He moves to rise, and I reach out, laying my hand on his stiff forearm. “It is ridiculous because you don’t have to pay me for that.”

If anything, he looks even more put out. “Yes, I do. This isn’t… If I don’t pay…” He shakes his head with an exasperated breath. “It isn’t right not to pay.”

My fingers curl around the hard muscle of his arm. “Do you need this?”

He pulls at his cuff. “The fact that I’m humiliating myself ought to tell you as much.”

I give him a watery smile. “All I’m trying to say is, even if you don’t consider me a friend, I consider you one. I help my friends. And it wouldn’t be right for me to take money from a friend. Besides, you’re offering to let me stay here. This is flat-out luxurious compared to being cramped in with five other people.”

His expression is so perplexed, my heart hurts for him.

“You’ll do it?” he asks.

That’s what I just said, wasn’t it? I didn’t even think it over, just blurted out my answer. I should be thinking this over. How am I supposed to live with this man? I’m attracted to him—total understatement. And he expects me to sleep next to him every night? Torture. And yet so very appealing. I want this. For reasons best ignored. Focus on the now. I’ve always operated on instinct. It has yet to fail me. And my instincts had me agreeing from the start. I’m not going back on that.

Gabriel sits quietly, fidgeting with his cuffs, though clearly trying not to. The man has the most ferocious scowl, and I’ve never seen grumpy look so hot. Inappropriate visions of a naughty schoolgirl and the punishing headmaster fill my head. Down, girl.

He makes a noise of impatience mixed with self-disgust. “I apologize for putting you in an awkward position. It was badly done. Let me walk you back—”

“Show me the bedroom.”

He blinks at me as if I’ve spoken in a language he can’t understand.