Chapter 2: Bossed by My Ex
Luna's POV
Gabriel Ashford—still drop-dead gorgeous, with that chiseled jaw and storm-gray eyes that used to strip me bare. But now, they were ice-cold as recognition hit.
"Well, well," he drawled, his voice deeper, sexier than ever—like velvet wrapped around a razor blade. "Luna Gray. Fate's got a twisted sense of humor, huh?" He cocked his head, rain pounding on his umbrella. "Miss me these last three years?"
I straightened up, rain soaking me through. "Mr. Ashford, this crash is totally on me. Sorry for the hassle."
He stepped closer, his umbrella now shielding us both.
"Sorry doesn't cut it," he murmured, his eyes tracing my drenched curves, voice dropping to a low, hungry growl that sent heat pooling low in my belly. "You owe me, Luna. Big time. And I'm collecting—starting right now."
The heat in his words screamed it: this wasn't about the car. Not even close.
I rolled my eyes, stepping back from his umbrella. "Look, this is all on me. We can swap insurance info and—"
"Insurance?" Gabriel barked out a harsh laugh, nodding at his crumpled Bentley. "That ride's worth more than most folks make in five years. Insurance won't cover what I really want."
"Fine," I snapped, rain chilling me to the bone as it soaked through my blouse. "Whatever the repairs cost, I'll cover the difference. Just bill me after the shop checks it out."
His gaze darkened, following a raindrop as it slid down my collarbone, lingering like a predator sizing up prey. "Already called my assistant. He's on his way."
Before I could argue, he placed his hand on the small of my back—that touch sending a spark shooting up my spine—and guided me toward the Bentley's backseat.
I slid onto the plush leather, instantly wrapped in Gabriel's scent—rich leather, sandalwood cologne, and that sharp edge that used to drive me wild.
Gabriel folded his tall frame in beside me, shaking off the umbrella. His eyes flicked to my legs, where my skirt had ridden up just a bit.
"Cover up," he muttered, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over my lap.
I bristled at the bossy tone but pulled the jacket over my thighs anyway. It was still warm from his body, heavy with his scent, and it yanked me back three years...
I'd shown up at Gabriel's swanky apartment in The Mayfair because he'd casually invited me over to "hang out." We weren't official yet—not even close—but damn, I had it bad for him. Every cocky grin or accidental brush sent my heart racing like a teenager's. I kept telling myself it was just a crush, nothing serious, but showing up here? Yeah, that was me hoping for more.
When I walked in, there was no sign of him. Curious, I poked around and heard a faint noise from the master bathroom.
Moaning? My stomach twisted—was he with someone? I nudged the door open wider, bracing for the worst.
What I saw stopped me dead.
Gabriel, buck naked under the shower spray, water cascading down his sculpted body. One hand braced against the tile, the other stroking his rock-hard length with urgent pulls. His head tipped back, eyes shut, lips parted in low groans. Muscles flexed with every stroke, veins bulging, slick sounds mixing with the water.
I should've bolted. Instead, I froze, mesmerized. Heat flooded my cheeks... and lower. My pulse hammered, a forbidden thrill twisting in my core.
Until his eyes snapped open and locked on mine.
"Shit!" I yelped, slapping my hands over my eyes. "I'm so sorry—"
"Since you're here," he rasped, voice thick with lust, "why not give me a hand?"
I spun to run, but his wet grip caught my wrist, yanking me back. Suddenly, I was face-to-face with him, his glistening body on full display, erection throbbing between us—thick, veined, begging. Steam wrapped around us, air heavy and intimate. My breath hitched, desire clashing with embarrassment as his heat pulled me in.
"You're such a perv!" I accused, forcing my eyes up to his face, even as my body shivered with want.
"If I'm a perv," he shot back, those storm-gray eyes darkening with hunger, "what does that make you, sneaking in to watch?"
My gaze landed on something on his bathroom shelf—my missing blue bikini, crumpled like it'd been... used.
"You stole my bikini to... do this?" I demanded, shock mixing with an electric heat that pulsed between my legs.
Gabriel didn't flinch. "Ashfords don't steal, Luna. We take what we want, and we earn what we get."
The realization hit—he'd been fantasizing about me, using it as a prop. My face burned, but so did something deeper, aching. I squeezed my thighs together, ignoring the growing wetness.
"Only now putting it together?" He stepped closer, crowding me against the counter. Water dripped onto my clothes, soaking through. His finger trailed my jaw, thumb grazing my lower lip. "That I'm a grown man with needs? Every time you prance around in that tiny bikini by the pool and then bail..."
His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. "You have any idea how hard it is not to bend you over and fuck you senseless every time you flash those pretty eyes at me?"
"Then why hold back?" The words slipped out, breathy.
Hunger flared in his gaze—victory and raw need. "Luna Gray," he growled, hauling me against his slick chest, erection pressing hot against my thigh. "You can't take that back. You're gonna make this right."
His mouth crashed onto mine, tongue demanding entry, tasting of heat and desire. Between kisses, he murmured, "Be good and help me finish..."
I should've walked away. Instead, I dropped to my knees on the plush bath mat, taking him into my mouth as his fingers knotted in my hair. His moans echoed off the marble, the taste of him salty and addictive on my tongue...
A sharp rap on the window yanked me back to the present. Gabriel's assistant, Tyler Brooks, stood out in the rain, looking like a drowned rat in his soggy suit.
Gabriel stepped out. "Tyler, tow Ms. Gray's car to the top shop in Vale. And get James on the Bentley for a full damage report."
"Right away, sir," Tyler said, already dialing.
Gabriel turned back to me. "I'll drive you home."
"Not necessary. I'll grab an Uber."
"We gotta hash out your... liability." His lips twisted in a smirk that wasn't friendly. "Or you wanna do this in court?"
Dammit. "Fine," I muttered, sliding into the SUV's passenger seat as he took the wheel.
We peeled away from the wreck, and I stared out the window, walls up high against him. Gabriel drove one-handed, the other tapping the window—just like old times. Habits die hard.
His phone blared through the speakers, shattering the silence. "Oliver Blake" lit up the dash.
Gabriel hit accept. "Blake."
"DUDE! You're back in Vale!" Oliver's voice boomed, slurred and hyped. "But your timing sucks balls. Your ex is engaged to some other schmuck. Ain't it a little late for a grand return?"
I froze, feeling Gabriel's side-eye burn into me.
"Oliver—" he growled, but the guy steamrolled on.
"Remember what you said? 'We're done. I ain't beggin' her ass to come back.' That's straight from you, bro!"
Gabriel jabbed the end button. "Ignore him. He's hammered and full of crap."
"Oh," I said, flat as pavement.
"That's it? Just 'oh'?" His knuckles went white on the wheel.
"Mm-hmm."
"Luna, you're ice-cold right now."
I whipped around to face him. "What do you want? We're exes. End of."
"You know," he drawled, voice low and dangerous, "you used to talk my ear off. Now it's all 'oh' and 'mm-hmm'?"
What the hell do you expect? A red-carpet welcome?
Before I could fire back, we pulled up to The Mayfair—my building. I blinked, confused.
"I didn't give you my address."
His mouth quirked. "Didn't need to."
I grabbed the door handle, but his hand clamped my wrist—warm, firm, sending a traitorous spark straight to my core.
"Luna Gray," he murmured, voice dropping to that husky tone that used to melt me, eyes locking on mine like a vise. "I regret it."
