GABRIEL'S POV
The question hung in the air between us like a loaded gun. I watched Ava's face carefully, noting the way her cheeks flushed deeper red, the way her breathing quickened, the way her eyes darted everywhere except to meet mine.
She was beautiful like this – flustered, vulnerable, caught between her principles and her circumstances. The thin silk robe clung to her curves, and I had to force myself to keep my eyes on her face.
"Well?" I asked, taking a step closer, repeating the question. "Should I sleep with you then? Is that what you want?"
"I..." She started, then stopped, pressing her lips together.
"It's a simple question, Ava." I moved closer still, close enough that I could see the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat. "You said you couldn't take the money because we didn't sleep together. So I'm asking – would you take it if we did?"
She looked up at me then, her brown eyes wide and uncertain. "That's not... that's not what I meant."
"Isn't it?" I tilted my head, studying her. "You have very clear moral boundaries, it seems. Very specific ideas about what constitutes earning versus stealing."
"Stop twisting my words."
"I'm not twisting anything. I'm clarifying." I reached out and touched the edge of her robe, my fingers barely grazing the silk. "You put yourself up for auction, Ava. You signed a contract to sell your virginity to the highest bidder. But when the time came to collect your payment, you walked away because the transaction wasn't completed."
"Yes," she whispered.
"So let me ask you again." I stepped even closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at me. "Will you take the money if I sleep with you? Is that what you want?"
The silence stretched between us, filled with tension and something else – something electric and dangerous that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
Finally, she nodded. Just once, barely perceptible, but I caught it.
"Yes," she said, so quietly I almost didn't hear her. "If we... if you... then yes. I could take it. My conscience wouldn't..."
"Wouldn't judge you," I finished for her.
"Yes."
I smiled then, though I'm not sure it was a particularly nice smile. "How practical of you."
I turned to leave, heading toward the door. I had work to do, classes to teach, a reputation to maintain. This conversation had gone exactly as I'd expected it to.
What I hadn't expected was the sound of her feet on the marble floor behind me, or the feeling of her hand grabbing my arm.
"Gabriel, wait—"
I turned back to face her, and before I could ask what she wanted, her lips were on mine.
The kiss was brief, desperate, almost clumsy in its urgency. Her lips were soft and warm, and she tasted like mint toothpaste and something uniquely her. It was over almost before it began, but the impact hit me like a physical blow.
She pulled back immediately, her eyes wide with shock at her own actions.
"There," she said breathlessly. "Now... now we've..."
I stared at her, my mind reeling. "You feel indebted? Is that why you're kissing me?"
She didn't answer, just looked at me with those wide, confused eyes.
"Ava," I said quietly. "Answer the question. Do you feel like you owe me something?"
Still no response. She just stood there, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips slightly swollen from our brief contact.
When we finally disengaged from the moment – when she stepped back and I let my hands fall to my sides – I found my voice again.
"Do it again," I said calmly. "Properly."
"What?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Kiss me again. If this is your way of settling accounts, then do it right."
She stared at me, uncertainty written across every feature. "Will that... will that make up for the sex?"
The question was so innocent, so earnest, that I almost laughed. Almost.
Instead, I smiled – a real smile this time, not the cold, calculated expression I usually wore.
"Yes," I said simply. "That will make us even."
She nodded, as if she was making some kind of internal calculation. Then she stepped forward again, reached up, and kissed me.
This time was different. This time she took her time, pressing her lips against mine with deliberate intent. Her hands came up to rest on my chest, and I could feel the warmth of her palms through my shirt.
I let her control the kiss, let her set the pace and depth. When her lips parted slightly, I followed her lead. When she pressed closer, I allowed it. When she made a small sound in the back of her throat, I had to grip the doorframe behind me to keep from pulling her against me completely.
When she finally pulled away, we were both breathing hard.
"There," she said again, but this time her voice was steadier. "Now we're... even."
"Even," I agreed, though the word felt inadequate for what had just happened between us.
I straightened my tie, picked up my briefcase, and headed for the door. At the threshold, I paused.
"I'll be home at six," I said without turning around. "We'll discuss your class schedule then."
"Okay," she said softly.
I left the apartment and made it exactly three steps down the hallway before I had to stop and lean against the wall. My hands were shaking, and I could still taste her on my lips.
This was not part of the plan. Kissing her was not part of the plan. Wanting to kiss her again was definitely not part of the plan.
But as I stood there in the empty hallway, trying to regain my composure, I realized that maybe the plan had changed the moment I saw her face on that auction listing.
Maybe it had changed the moment I decided she belonged to me.
I pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator, already counting the hours until I could come home to her again.