Free Always Been Mine by Victoria Paige

touch you. Well . . . unless you beg me to.”
    In your dreams, Sullivan.
    “Go home, Gabe.”
    “I made hot chocolate,” Gabe cut in abruptly. “Old-fashioned way. Just how you like it.”
    Beatrice paused. “Bittersweet?”
    “Seventy-percent Belgian chocolate, babe.”
    That sneaky bastard. She could feel her mouth drooling.  
    “Poppy?”
    Damn Gabriel Sullivan.

    Five minutes later, she opened the door to a tousled-hair, scruffy-jaw, hot as hell man holding a thermos of liquid ambrosia. Gabe had learned to make proper hot chocolate—thick and bittersweet—from a friend who lived in Paris. Beatrice had never tasted anything quite like it. But hot cocoa aside, she thought this was the perfect opportunity to give him a logical argument to his idea of getting back together. He needed to stop turning up at her condo, announced or unannounced.
    “Hey,” he whispered, tawny eyes, warm and melting like caramel, gazed down on her.  
    She said nothing, just stood aside and waved an arm to let him in. Closing the door behind him, she walked to the kitchen to get some mugs. Beatrice was very aware that Gabe was checking out her condo.  
    “Nice place, great view,” Gabe murmured. “Must have cost a mint.”
    “It did.”
    Beatrice consciously tugged her robe together as she sat on the couch. Gabe took the armchair adjacent from her. This surprised Beatrice because there was plenty of room on the couch. “The hot chocolate was a sneaky move.”
    Gabe chuckled and unscrewed the top of the thermos. “It worked, didn’t it?”
    Oh, yes . The aroma of hot cocoa was intoxicating.
    “I didn’t even hold out for a proper dinner date.”
    “I can take you out to dinner tomorrow, if you’d let me,” Gabe responded instantly.
    “Why are you pushing this? Isn’t what happened Saturday morning enough?”
    “That was a mistake.”
    Beatrice bristled. “Excuse me, but didn’t you get off three times?”
    “So did you. But I should’ve stopped you.” Gabe handed her a cup. “We weren’t ready, emotionally—”
    “Where is this all coming from? Have you grown a vagina or something?”
    Gabe scowled. “I’ve been to see a shrink.”  
    Beatrice didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut.
    “I’ve been back for four months now,” Gabe continued. “Gone for three years, I can’t tell you what I did, but know that”—he paused and inhaled sharply before pushing the air out slowly—“I did things, Beatrice. Horrific things.”
    “Gabe—”
    “The last thing I want from you is pity,” he said. “I’m dealing with it. I think I can be the man you need, but I can’t prove it to you unless you give me a chance.”
    “You can’t waltz back into my life and expect to pick up where we had left off. You’re not the only one who’s changed. The woman you knew three years ago was willing to bend her rules by dating a man like you. That woman now wants something else altogether,” Beatrice said. “It’s not about what you did, Gabe. It’s what you represent. You’re everything I don’t want, and I have to remember that.”
    Gabe’s eyes wavered from hers and stared at a spot on her carpet. His jaw was set in a tense line. “I’m not your father, Beatrice.”
    She smiled sadly. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
    His eyes returned to hers. “Can we at least be friends?”
    She didn’t trust him, or maybe she didn’t trust herself. “Gabe, I don’t know.”
    “I heard about Eric Stone. I’m sorry.”
    She nodded. Tears welled up in her eyes and she didn’t dare respond. Even if she didn’t love Eric, some part of her still cared for him despite how it ended between them.  
    “How’s it going with the investigation?”
    “I think they’re going to declare it death by natural causes,” Beatrice said. “I’ve gone to the station with Dad and his lawyer. Given my statement. The lawyer assured me I’m not a suspect.”
    “You think any of Stone’s fans are going