Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel) novel Chapter 220

Clairessa’s POV

"Talk about what?" I kept my tone light—bored. It was too easy to play dumb. Too satisfying.

He took another step toward me.

I backed up until the cold steel of the patio railing met my backside. His eyes tracked the movement, and his lips pressed into a firmer line.

"Don’t do this," he said—like he was pleading, but too proud to let it show.

"Don’t do what?" I tilted my head. "I have no idea what you’re trying to talk about."

He exhaled hard. "I’m talking about last night. About the intimate moment we shared."

I arched my spine just slightly, sliding one foot forward to exaggerate the curve of my hips. The slit in the silk dress I wore rode higher on my thighs. I made sure of it.

I blinked slowly. “Last night?”

He stared. Waiting.

I shrugged. “Can’t say I remember much.”

A bold lie. Every damn second of it was burned into me. My thighs still ached. My lips still tingled from what I did to him.

But watching that muscle in his jaw flex, watching his patience start to crack—God, I loved this part. Riling him up. Pulling him close, then pretending I didn’t want him at all.

A flash of anger lit his eyes.

"Seriously? Stop playing games. Aren’t you tired of them?" he growled.

“Game?” I echoed, pressing a hand to my chest. “What game, Gabriel?”

I crossed my arms, purposefully pushing my breasts higher—knowing full well he’d notice.

“To the best of my knowledge,” I continued sweetly, “nothing happened last night.”

He stepped closer.

I didn’t move.

“And if anything did happen—which I’m not confirming—it probably wasn’t worth remembering. It faded with the night. It’s morning now. Time to move on.”

The lines of his face hardened, his brows drawing together. He hated this—me brushing him off, pretending last night hadn’t lit me on fire from the inside out.

And I loved it.

God help me, I loved watching him get worked up over me.

His patience snapped.

In one swift motion, his arms locked tightly around my waist, dragging me against him.

My body slammed into his, and I felt everything—his heat, his frustration, his hunger—pressing into me like a drug I’d forgotten I was addicted to.

I gasped as he yanked me forward, forcing my ass to rest against the cold railings, caging me with his body.

Then his lips grazed the shell of my ear—slow and seductive.

“Do you need me to remind you what happened last night?”

My heart stuttered. My knees threatened to give out.

“I could start with the living room,” he said, his voice a low, playful tease. “Or maybe when you walked in on me in the shower.”

His fingers slid up my side, slow and possessive.

“You didn’t run, Claire. Didn’t even flinch. You just watched me stroke myself—moaning your name.”

My breath hitched.

“You were so turned on,” he growled, mouth hot against my neck. “You touched yourself. Right there. In the doorway. You didn’t even try to hide it. Because you wanted me just as badly as I wanted you.”

I swallowed hard, my thighs clenching involuntarily, a pulse beginning to throb between them, making it impossible to hold onto my restraint.

Then his hand rose—fingers brushing against my lips, parting them gently.

“You surprised me,” he murmured, his gaze locked on my mouth. “You took every inch of my cock… used that sinful little tongue to nearly destroy me.”

I gasped—his thumb pressed into the corner of my mouth, sensually, teasing the memory out of me with every stroke.

“You didn’t gag. Not once.” His voice was quiet yet filthy. “You looked so sweet, so hungry… like you’d been waiting for that moment.”

He leaned in closer, breath warm as it ghosted over my cheek.

“That was your first time, wasn’t it?”

I didn’t answer.

“You did it so perfectly,” he whispered. “Like you’d practiced… like you prepared for it. Just for me.”

His nose brushed the side of mine. His lips hovered over my cheek.

“My sweet, dirty girl.”

His lips grazed my throat, then his tongue dragged along the sensitive curve beneath my jaw.

My breath hitched—shallow, ragged. Heat stirred low in my belly, rising until it coursed through every nerve like wildfire.

He knew exactly what he was doing. Every word, every touch, designed to make me lose myself in him.

But I wasn’t going to surrender that easily.

Instead, I bit down gently on his thumb—half playful, half warning—hoping it might push him back.

It didn’t.

He chuckled, dark and low. Then—smack.

I gasped as his palm came down hard on my ass.

My eyes flew open in stunned silence, a jolt of shock and heat shooting through me. “Gabriel…” I breathed, my voice barely audible.

The sting hit, hot and aching—and I hated how much I liked it. The way it sank through my skin, down to the heat between my legs causing wetness to seep out of me.

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