Romance: Gibson's Legacy ( New Adult Contemporary Erotic Romance) (Last Score Book 1) (24 page)

Inside the door was a polished wooden desk with a smartly dressed female maître d’. Smiling, she addressed Gibson in a seductive tone with a thick French accent. “Ah, Monsieur Barclay, you arrive! Welcome! We are so ‘appy to ‘ave you ‘ere. Please come an’ sit. Wine, yes? Your food ezz prepared already.”

Walking in front of us with her catwalk posture and slender long lines, it was difficult to see how I could be remotely appealing when someone like her was around. She was the whole package. Her accent was sexy as hell and she looked so sophisticated and chic. Once I had made the mistake of comparing her to how I viewed myself, I felt myself shrink in her presence.

Confused at what was happening, I slowly sat down on the chair Gibson pulled out for me, taking in all my surroundings as I did, and falling in love with the gorgeous scene of this very intimate restaurant. Fairy-tale rope lighting was wrapped around pillars and there was a massive wooden trellis with ivy and grape vines growing up it in various places.

At the center of the outside area there was a huge tree, again covered in the string lighting. Between the twinkling lights, Gibson’s presence and the aroma of herbs and spices I felt like I had walked into paradise.

Pierre will be your waiter for z’night. Please let ‘im know what you desire and we will do our best to make your eating experience with us memorable.” Turning on her heel, she sashayed away in the direction of the desk again.

Briefly watching her walk away, I turned to look across the table at Gibson once she was in her seat once again. Serious grey eyes met mine and Gibson ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Are you okay, now? Are we okay, now?”

Apart from his brief sleep and his outburst on the plane to ‘Barbie,’ he had actually been great. No, he’d been amazing, and really, I had to accept some responsibility for his temper in regards to what he said. I had been less than kind back at the venue.

Putting everything into perspective, I’d won a competition. Who was I to go laying the law down at him like that without just cause? He’d never asked me for anything.

“Sure, I’m happy to start again, if you are.” My response was rewarded with his sinfully sexy roguish smile. It made my heart flutter and melt. I’d seen Gibson smile many times, but there was something about that particular one that made him look genuinely happy.

CHAPTER 23 - UNWELCOME FEELINGS

Chloe

Dinner was beautiful. The setting, the food, the wine… the man. All perfect, except for the way Gibson looked at me sometimes. From looking like he wasn’t into me or my type, to focusing intensely on me.

Everything that had happened in my life during the past six weeks seemed so unbelievable. Being beaten badly by Kace, my inheritance, running away to a new life and the wrong phone calls from a guy named Paul.

The most ridiculous and incomprehensible thing of all that happened to me–winning a competition that led me to be sitting across the table having dinner with Gibson Barclay. There was my fantasy guy who was larger than life, stunningly handsome and smiling at me…it was all just so insane.

There were times during the meal when he unnerved me, and times when I could almost forget his past. Those charming and charismatic skills of his were out in force with me in that romantic setting. Gibson had said he wasn’t drinking but relented with the French red wine. Two and a half bottles of wine later between us and I was more than a little woozy.

Finishing the last mouthful on his plate, he replaced his knife and fork neatly as he licked his lips, hummed sexily and sat back in his seat with his hand over his abdomen. The guy even managed to make appreciating his food look and sound deeply erotic. Just watching him made me have thoughts that had no business in my mind in regards to what I would do to him.

Sitting back casually, Gibson raised his glass to his mouth and he was definitely checking me out over the rim of it. Hooded, dark eyes ticked over my body and I couldn’t help but feel as if he were sizing me up as dessert. Occasionally, as he perused me, he would lick his lips and at one point he dragged his tongue piercing past his top teeth at the front.

“Why did you do that to your tongue?” It seemed strange that a singer would do something which could affect their speech or the way they sang.

Gibson sat looking completely relaxed, but bit his lip as he thought about how to answer. During that time he never broke eye contact with me. After a couple of minutes, he gave me a knowing smirk. “Self- expression… and for both mine; and when I’m having sex with someone– their gratification as well.”

Thinking he was saying it to shock and embarrass me, I tried not to react but felt myself stiffen slightly and in my effort to cover this up, threw another question. “How so?” As soon as I said it I chided myself, annoyed that he’d thrown me some bait and how quickly I had taken it.

“Maybe I should show you sometime, it’s kinda hard to explain.” Grinning roguishly, he went on quickly, while I squirmed in my seat. A sudden wet patch between my legs from Gibson Barclay suggesting he should go down on me.

“I know when I’ve had oral from a girl with one, it’s an awesome feeling. That little change in texture when I’m being sucked off feels off-the-charts hot.” Smirking, I could see he was biting back a grin and I felt my cheeks burn. I could have kicked myself because as brave as I was trying to be, I couldn’t bring myself to keep eye contact with him.

Why the hell had I had I asked him that? Why didn’t I know about piercings?
I’d never been around people with tattoos and piercings if you didn’t count the two bands I’d known. The one that Ruby’s ex was in, and M3rCy.

Feeling pretty stupid I had set myself up like that, I was lost for words. Really, I just wanted a time machine or a time portal or whatever, to appear in the restaurant that I could step into, and I wondered how I would have been able to act normally around him from that point?

“Oh,” was all I could manage in reply to his explicit explanation. What else could I have said? So I sat twirling my wine glass by the stem between my fingers, suddenly fascinated by the red wine licking around the curve of the glass like tiny red waves.

When I had recovered my composure enough to look back at him, Gibson gave me a soft smile and leaned forward in his seat. Reaching over, he took my hand in his and held my nervous gaze. His eyes were sympathetic and he bit his bottom lip.

“Seriously, Chloe. I’m sorry. I can see by your reaction it was a genuine question. I called it wrong. When you asked me that, I thought it was an opening for something. I am so used to people wanting to talk sex and flirting suggestively with me. Asking me intimate questions like that. Honestly? It isn’t often I find someone who is asking because they care about me and want to know Gibson Barclay the guy, and not Gibson the possession.”

Squeezing my hand gently, he continued to hold it, as he began to explain to me why he had them and what they meant for him. “My piercings are hidden. I love piercings and ink, but in moderation. They are an extension of me, imperfect and wounded. They are my way of controlling something in my world. So much in my life is controlled by other people who try to tell me what to say and what to wear, who to speak to and that gets fucking tiring after a while. My tongue piercing has been done a long time and although it’s not advisable I don’t wear when I’m working. Usually, it’s saved for my private time and I put it straight back after a gig. My other one, well…let’s just say that doesn’t come out and it was also an intimate decision.”

Puzzled, I wondered where the other piercing was. Gibson began to laugh, “Your face is a picture.” Laughing louder and heartily at me, he lifted his hand from mine and held my chin, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Chloe, you are my breath of fresh air. Innocent but not, feisty but not, challenging but not, very contradictory and very, very intriguing.”

Unnerved by his sudden scrutiny, I bit my lip. My heart was beating so fast it made me light headed and I wasn’t sure what all of that meant exactly until it fluttered in my chest, and I inhaled heavily trying to get it under control. Most women would have fainted at his feet if he had given them the look that he’d given me at that moment. But, in the back of my mind, was Gibson with all those girls.

All I asked was why a tongue piercing, but as soon as he made that intimate move, his smile dropped and his gaze became intense. Those smoky grey eyes became hooded and lust filled and Gibson’s eyes dropped to my lips.

For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, and in that split second I had made my mind up that if he did, I was going to let it happen.

One kiss. Who would have blamed me? More would think I had been crazy to pass up the opportunity to kiss him. And, there was a table between us so it wouldn’t have been able to get too out of hand.

Swallowing hard, I tried with everything I had in me to find the courage to keep my eyes trained on his, but the longer he looked at me, the more I melted. Feeling horny as hell and frustrated that he hadn’t kissed me, my confidence waned.

Part of me thought I obviously wasn’t attractive to him; the Gibson Barclay I knew had always taken what he wanted. So the more I thought about it, the less confident I became, until once again I averted my eyes.

Gibson let out a long shuddery breath and let go of my hands. Placing his palms on the table, he pushed himself out of the seat and stood up. Walking behind my chair, he placed his hands on the back rest and bent down close to my ear. His closeness made my body hum in anticipation of what he would do next.

“Come on, Chloe, we need air.” As I began to stand he drew the chair back from me and waited for me to step clear.

Inclining his head and smiling at the maître d’ he opened the door and held it for me to walk through. When I hesitated, he smiled softly, “I told you already, Chloe, I don’t bite.” Smirking, he winked at me playfully.

Once outside, I expected to go back to the plane, although, I had already decided I wasn’t getting in a car with him after the amount of alcohol he’d drunk.

Preparing to have another stand off about how we were getting back to the airport, Gibson caught my wrist and pulled me gently toward him, holding me close, but not intimately. His face was serious. “Chloe, I’ve had too much to drink, darlin’, I can’t drive back.”

Gibson had said that I was contrary, but my expectations of him were constantly being challenged. There was a maturity in him that I never expected and part of me was wondering if it was because I really wanted to see good things in him.

If so, maybe that was because he had awakened feelings in me, that I thought weren’t possible without a high level of trust. Especially after what I had gone through with Kace.

Suddenly Gibson slung his arm around my shoulder, his fingers skimming over my bare arm and sparking a shiver of pleasure that ran down my spine. Leading me forward with the pressure of his hip, he headed in the direction of his car.

“Are we sleeping in the car?” My voice sounded more high pitched than I wanted it to. Stopping abruptly, Gibson leaned back to look at my face, turning my body toward him. Grinning wickedly he raised an eyebrow, “Well, I suppose we could, I had my money on the beach, but the car works just as well, although it is a little too exposed here.”

Shaking my head, I turned my body away and tried to free myself of his hold, but he stood firm. “I’m not sleeping with you, Gibson.” After everything I had said, the argument on the plane in particular, he seemed to be back to that again.

Gibson frowned at me and his jaw twitched in annoyance. “Well fuck, Chloe, you can stay awake all night if you want, but I need some rest. One of us was working earlier and it’s…” Gibson squinted at his platinum Rolex, “fucking one- thirty in the morning.”

Looking over at the car, then back at me, his mouth made a silent ‘O’.

“Jeez, Chloe. God, no. I didn’t mean we were having sex in the car. What I meant was, if I fell asleep in there, someone might recognize me. I’m much less likely to be discovered lying asleep on the beach than I would in a car by the sidewalk.

“Come on, we’re going to the beach.” Walking over to the car, he pressed the car fob and the trunk sprung open. Gibson leaned in and busied himself moving stuff around, before pulling out a rucksack, a sun shield and a blanket. Turning to look at me, it would have been difficult for him to miss my raised eyebrow.

“You’re thinking that I do this all the time aren’t you?” I must admit I was thinking how would someone know exactly what to put in the trunk of a hired car for him? When I didn’t respond he smirked and shook his head. “Damn, that low opinion and you have it all wrong.” Without waiting for him to say anything else, I responded.

“Only from what I’ve seen and know of you, Gibson. You may not remember me, but I certainly remember how you operate.” Feeling tired, and I really didn’t want to have any more confrontations with him, but I wasn’t going to pussyfoot around what I knew about him.

“Alright Ms. Fucking Marple. What the fuck am I doing with a backpack a sun shield and a blanket?” Putting his hand up to stop me from replying he continued, “Don’t. We’ll be here all fucking night. I’ll let you in on the scoop. This backpack contains a bottle of wine and some chips. Two bottles of water. A toothbrush and paste, a spare cell battery and phone, a battery operated razor, a flashlight, passport, driving license, a roll of dollars, credit card, a cap and a long sleeved t-shirt.”

Gibson pushed the fob again and began to walk across the road with the contents before the trunk had closed, leaving me to scurry after him. Spinning around he made eye contact again, his eyes blazing with his fiery temper.

“Don’t, I’ll answer why as well. That
was
your next question wasn’t it? I have all this shit around because I am Gibson fucking Barclay and I am not anonymous. This is an emergency kit packed in such a way that it helps me to slip away from the media. As I have used it to do on several occasions. There are a lot of perks to being me, but there are a lot of risks as well. So, what you think you know-- from when you
thought
you knew me; to what you
actually
know about me, isn’t worth shit, understand?”