Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel) novel Chapter 193

Gabriel – POV

I stood in my office, fuming—or at least, that’s what I told myself.

But the moment our eyes met, the fire in my chest shifted into something else.

Clairessa stood across the desk, arms crossed tightly, her lips pressed into a furious line.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Her silence said everything.

And still… I couldn’t concentrate on the anger in her expression—because all I could see was how damn beautiful she looked.

Her hair was still damp from the shower, soft strands clinging to her cheeks, framing her face with an effortless kind of beauty that didn’t feel real.

I wanted to run my fingers through the tangles, smooth them back, drag the ends across my skin… just to see if they still carried that familiar hint of vanilla.

God, I used to love that scent.

Sweet. Warm. Hers.

Or had she changed it?

I couldn’t tell from here, and it pissed me off that I even cared.

My eyes dropped before I could stop them.

She wore oversized joggers that swallowed her legs, but even beneath all that fabric, I could still trace the shape of her hips.

My body remembered.

How they felt pressed against me.

Wrapped around me. Moving with me in the dark.

My throat tightened.

Then my gaze climbed—to that worn sweatshirt clinging to her frame. Too thin to hide the swell of her breasts.

My jaw clenched.

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

I didn’t need a second look. I just knew.

And damn me—I wondered... if I reached for her now, slipped my hands beneath that fabric, cupped those perfect mounds again—would her body still respond to me the same way?

Would her back arch the second my fingers brushed over her nipples?

Would she moan—soft and breathless—eyes fluttering shut like I was still the only man who knew how to touch her?

Fuck.

I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to shake it off.

I came here to warn her—to make it clear she’d never pull that stunt with me again.

She didn’t get to challenge me. Not here. Not under my roof.

She was on my terms now.

And yet… all the fury I’d been clinging to had dissolved—melting away piece by piece into something far more dangerous.

Suppressed desire.

A hunger I’d spent weeks trying—and failing—to kill.

But now it was awake. Alive. Throbbing low and hard, causing a brutal ache in my pants.

I wanted to kiss her until her lips were swollen.

Trace every inch of her skin.

Claim her like she still belonged to me.

I wanted to bury my cock so deep inside her, she’d have no choice but to scream my name and beg for more.

Then she broke the silence.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

I blinked, forcing my gaze up from her neckline to her face.

She was furious—and rightfully so.

Me? I feigned confusion. My voice came out smoother than it should’ve.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she fired back. “You stopped me from leaving. Pulled that macho stunt right in front of him. What the hell do you think that looked like?”

I could’ve answered. Should’ve.

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