Chapter 6: No Force, Pure Lure

Luna's POV

I'd just slipped into my swimsuit and was reaching for the door when I yanked it open—and nearly jumped out of my skin. There stood Gabriel Ashford, his massive frame blocking the entire doorway like a damn wall. His gray-blue eyes raked over me slowly, taking in my loose hair tumbling down to my shoulder blades and the barely-there swimsuit Sophia had called "classy." Suddenly, it felt way too skimpy.

"Luna," he said, his voice low and controlled, but with that sharp edge that always set my nerves on fire. "You're seriously planning to meet those people dressed like this?"

I darted a quick glance down the empty hallway, heart pounding, then hissed, "What the hell are you doing here? This is the women's changing room!"

Gabriel didn't hesitate. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft, ominous click. His gaze locked onto mine as he closed the distance, making the small space feel even smaller.

"If I hadn't shown up," he murmured, his tone dropping to that deep, dangerous rumble that used to turn my knees to jelly, "were you really gonna strut out there half-naked in front of him?"

The raw possessiveness in his voice hit me like a punch. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling exposed in every possible way.

"In front of who? Randy? He's just a colleague, Gabriel. And this is a pool party—what'd you expect me to wear, a freaking nun's habit?"

His jaw clenched tight. "I've seen the way he looks at you. Like every guy who gets within ten feet of you." A muscle ticked in his cheek. "He wants you."

I took a deliberate step back, trying to put some air between us. "Well, that's none of your business, is it, Mr. Ashford? I've got a fiancé, remember?"

The formal title did the trick—his tense expression cracked, replaced by a slow, predatory smile. The kind that always ended with him pinning me against something.

"Mr. Ashford?" He let out a low chuckle that sent an unwelcome shiver racing down my spine. "Come on, Luna. Don't pretend I'm not the guy who used to make you scream my name all night long."

Heat flooded my cheeks—a toxic mix of anger, embarrassment, and something hotter I wasn't about to admit. Before I could fire back with something snarky, his finger grazed a feather-light trail from my temple down to my jawline. That familiar touch made my breath hitch.

"That's what always got me about you," he whispered, his eyes tracing the path of his finger. "So cool and put-together on the outside, but inside..." His gaze dipped to my lips. "Inside, you're pure fire."

I swallowed hard, fighting to steady my racing pulse. "You need to get out. Now."

He watched me for a beat longer, then sighed. Without a word, he shrugged off his perfectly tailored suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The fabric was still warm from his body heat, and his scent—that intoxicating mix of sandalwood and pure Gabriel—wrapped around me like a trap.

"Don't give those ambitious assholes the time of day," he said quietly, adjusting the jacket around me. "And throw on some more clothes. Please."

That 'please' threw me off. The Gabriel from three years ago didn't ask—he demanded. His hands lingered on the lapels a second too long before he finally stepped back.

"My ex-boyfriend handing out fashion tips?" I shot back, trying to keep my tone light and sarcastic. "That's a plot twist."

His face darkened. "Ex-boyfriend means I was your boyfriend once, Luna. That counts for something."

He turned to go, but I shocked myself by grabbing his sleeve, my fingers curling into the crisp white fabric. "Wait."

He froze, glancing down at my hand on his arm, then up to my face, his expression a blank mask.

"Why are you... different now?" The words tumbled out before I could reel them back. "The old Gabriel would've had Randy tossed out of his own party just for glancing my way. You're... calmer. Almost reasonable."

Something flickered in his eyes—the hard edges softening into something raw, almost vulnerable. "Luna, I regret everything. I still don't get it—three years ago, why'd you break up with me? If you don't love Chase, why'd you walk away?"

It felt like a gut punch. All this time, I'd braced for revenge, for him to make me pay for ditching him. Not this. Not him looking at me like he still cared—like he was still hung up.

No way. Don't go there.

"Gabriel—"

"Give me a shot," he cut in, his voice softer than I'd heard in forever. "A chance to show you who I am now. You'll see your ex is way better than you remember."

He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear, raising goosebumps all over. "I'm not pushing you into anything, Luna. Just... tempting you." He pulled back, locking eyes with me. "And do me a favor—shut down any other guy's advances."

His fingertips brushed my wrist, light as a spark but electric enough to jolt me. The possession in his stare wasn't the aggressive jealousy from before—it was deeper, more patient. Way more dangerous.

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

I stood there frozen, his jacket still clinging to me, my heart slamming against my ribs like it wanted out. What the actual fuck just happened?

"Did this guy spend three years in London taking seduction classes or something?" I muttered, slumping onto a bench.

My mind spun like a whirlwind—flashing back to our messy breakup, the hurt that had pushed me away, the engagement ring on my finger feeling like a lead weight. Chase. My dad's debts. All the reasons I couldn't let Gabriel pull me back in.

So why the hell do I want to chase after him?

A polite knock snapped me out of it. A female attendant stood there with a fluffy white bathrobe.

"Mr. Ashford asked me to bring this for you, Miss Gray," she said, her face all professional politeness, but I caught the flicker of curiosity.

Of course he did. "Thanks," I mumbled, taking the robe.

I threw it on over my swimsuit, then paused, staring at his jacket in my hands. I should give it back. That'd be the smart move. The safe one.

Heading out to the pool area, jacket folded over my arm, I scanned the crowd for his towering figure. But Randy spotted me first, his face breaking into that easy, genuine grin as he headed my way.

"Luna! There you are," he said, closing in. His eyes dropped to the masculine jacket draped over my arm. "What's with that? Whose jacket?"

"Oh, this?" I held up the jacket casually, forcing my voice to stay steady. "No idea whose it is. Found it in the lounge area—someone must've left it behind."

"Looks like Gabriel Ashford's— that signature cut and fabric. Wait, didn't he save you back in college? At the university pool party? You were struggling in the deep end, and he dove in fully clothed. Hero shit."

My stomach plummeted. Of course Randy knew—everyone on campus had gossiped about it.

"But I guess you don't know him well?" Randy went on, clueless as ever. "Want me to introduce you? He's your boss, now."

Oh yeah, not familiar at all, I thought sarcastically, a bitter laugh bubbling inside. It's been three years since we shared a bed, and I'm starting to forget his killer moves between the sheets—the way he'd pin me down and make me beg.

Before I could dodge, my phone buzzed. I glanced down:

Don't let him get too close. I'm watching you.