“Why do you like that place?” Gabriel asked, his heart slamming against his ribs as he felt the delicate lap of her tongue.
“I don’t know.” Her smile curled against his skin. “It seems made for my—” She paused. “For kissing.”
Closing his hand in her hair, he guided her to meet his gaze. “For your kisses,” he said gruffly, ceding ownership of the spot whether she wanted it or not.
Her inquisitive hands explored the contours of his torso and chest. Carefully her fingers slipped beneath the straps of the braces that went over his shoulders and eased them down. It was the most erotic torture Gabriel had ever experienced, disciplining himself to stay still while Pandora took inventory of this new masculine territory. She kissed the side of his neck and played with the hair on his chest. Finding the flat circle of a male nipple, she rubbed the pad of her thumb over it, raising a tiny aroused point. Growing bolder, she maneuvered over him in a tangle of coltish limbs, trying to press closer, until one of her knees jabbed perilously close to his groin. Hastily he reached down to grasp her hips. “Careful, love. You don’t want me to spend the rest of the evening in a sobbing heap on the sofa.”
“Did I hurt you?” Pandora asked anxiously, subsiding on his lap.
“No, but for men, that place is . . .” Gabriel broke off with a primal grunt as he felt her straddling him. The feel of it was so scorching, so exquisitely incendiary, that he found himself only a few heartbeats away from release. His hands tightened on her hips to keep her still, while he closed his eyes with a quiet curse. Any movement at all on her part, if only to lift away from him, would cause him to erupt like a stripling lad with his first woman.
“Oh,” he heard Pandora exclaim softly. Her thighs tensed on either side of his. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Hold still,” he rasped. “Sweet merciful God, don’t move. Please.”
To his vast relief, she stayed in place. He could hardly think past the insane desire, his body struggling in every muscle. He could feel how hot she was even through the fabric of his trousers. Mine, his blood screamed. He needed to have her. Mate her. Taking deep, calming breaths, he shivered and gulped, and painstakingly brought himself under control.
“Are you thinking about the Queen?” he heard Pandora ask eventually, while the engorged length of his shaft throbbed vehemently between them. “Because if you are, it’s not working.”
Gabriel’s lips twitched at the helpful observation. He replied with his eyes still closed. “With you sitting on me in that sweet little nightdress, it wouldn’t matter if the Queen were standing in this room with a contingent of guards in full uniform.”
“What if she were scolding you? What if she were pouring cold water on your feet?”
Entertained, he regarded her with a one-eyed squint. “Pandora, I have the feeling you’re trying to deflate my protrusion.”
“What if all the guards had drawn their swords and were pointing them at you?” she persisted.
“I would reassure them that the Queen was in absolutely no danger from me.”
“Am I in danger?” Pandora asked hesitantly, which certainly wasn’t an inappropriate question for a virgin sitting on a half-naked man to be asking.
“Of course not,” Gabriel said, although he wasn’t certain either of them found that entirely convincing. “The safest place in the world for you is in my arms.” Sliding his arms around her, he eased her closer. As she leaned forward, the swollen ridge of his erection aligned with her soft cleft, and she caught her breath. He patted her hip reassuringly. “Does it make you nervous to feel how much I want you? The only purpose of this”—he nudged upward gently—“is to give you pleasure.”
Pandora glanced down between them dubiously. “Helen said it does more than that.”
A quiet laugh broke from him. He’d never known it was possible to be this amused and aroused at the same time. “Not tonight,” he managed to say. “I promised I wouldn’t take away your choices. And I’ll always keep my promises to you.”
Contemplating him with those wondrous blue eyes, Pandora rested more heavily on him, her lashes flickering in a double-blink as she felt the thick, involuntary twitch of his hard flesh nestled against her. “What are we going to do now?” she whispered.
“What do you want to do?” he whispered back, watching her in fascination.
They studied each other, both of them unmoving and pleasurably tense, invisible fuses burning. Very carefully, as if she were experimenting with some violently unstable substance, Pandora brought her mouth to his, trying different angles, searching and tasting with increasing fervor.
No woman had ever kissed Gabriel the way she did, wringing out sensation and soft fire as if she were sucking raw honey from the comb. The longer it went on, however, the wilder she became. One of them had to stay in control, and it clearly wasn’t going to be her, and she was making it hard. He groaned as she writhed on his lap. So damned hard.
Framing her face in his hands, he pulled back and tried to gentle her. “Easy, love. Relax. I’ll give you everything you—”
Before he could even finish the sentence, Pandora dove back in and captured his mouth with take-no-prisoners enthusiasm. Panting, she tried to feel more of his chest, fumbling at the bottom of the shirt placket, but there were no more buttons left to unfasten. She grasped the sides of the placket and tugged roughly, trying to tear the garment open. It might have worked with an ordinary shirt, but the front of an evening shirt was sewn with an extra thickness of cloth and pressed with a double portion of starch to keep it smooth.
Despite Gabriel’s acute arousal, he felt an irresistible laugh swell in his chest as he looked down at her, his small and determined pirate, who was having a moment of unexpected difficulty with bodice-ripping. But there was no way in hell he would risk hurting her feelings at such a moment. After brutally quelling the laughter, he sat up straight to tug the hem of his shirt upward and over his head, baring his chest completely.
As soon as the garment was stripped away, Pandora attached herself to him with a wrenching sigh, her hands wandering over his chest and sides with unbridled greed. Gabriel eased back in his seated position. Later he would teach her about pacing and control, about the slow build of desire, but for now, he would allow her free rein. Her braid had come unraveled, the long trailing locks as shiny as moonlight on ripples of dark water. It caressed and tickled his body as she moved on him, her hips grinding in urgent and unmeasured patterns.
Gabriel’s entire body was as taut as a man on a medieval dungeon rack. His hands clenched into the sofa cushion until his fingers threatened to punch holes through the brocade. He fought to keep his mind focused, restraining his own desire as Pandora continued to kiss him, rising and subsiding in his lap.
Tearing her mouth from his with a frazzled, wordless exclamation, Pandora dropped her head to his shoulder. She breathed in gasps, clearly not knowing what she wanted, only that the pleasure was woven with frustration, and everything she did to satisfy it only made it worse.
It was time to take control. With a sympathetic murmur, Gabriel stroked her heaving back, and gathered her loose hair into a single stream. “I want to do something for you, little love. Will you trust me for a few minutes?”
Chapter 13
Pandora considered the question without moving. She felt hot and unsatisfied, her nerves tight-strung with something like hunger, only much worse. Something gnawing and sharp and shaky. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
Gabriel’s hands moved over her with tantalizing lightness. “You know I would never hurt you.”
It didn’t escape her that he hadn’t answered the question directly. She pushed herself up on his chest then, looking down at him. He was inhumanly beautiful as he lay there beneath her, all whipcord muscle and golden sleekness, his face like something from a dream. A flush of color burnished his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, as if he’d been out in the sun too long. His light blue eyes glinted with mischief and secret
s, shadowed by a tangle of long lashes. A living, breathing Adonis, she thought, a wave of gloom breaking over her.
“I think we should stop now,” she said reluctantly.
Gabriel shook his head, squinting slightly as if mystified by the statement. “We’ve barely started.”
“This can’t lead to anything. Prince Charming doesn’t belong with a girl who sits in corners, he belongs with a girl who can waltz.”
“What the devil does waltzing have to do with this?”
“It’s a metaphor.”
“For what?” Gabriel moved her off his lap, sat up, and raked his hands through his hair. Despite his attempts to restore order, the golden-bronze locks fell back into disheveled layers, some sliding over his forehead, and it looked wonderful. He laid an arm across the back of the sofa, his gaze locked on her.
Pandora was so distracted by his tautly muscled torso and arms, and the tantalizing fleece of hair on his chest, she could barely recall the answer. “For all the things I can’t do. Your wife will have to act as hostess for all kinds of events, and attend balls and soirées with you, and what woman with two perfectly good legs can’t dance with her husband? People would ask. What excuse could I give them?”
“We’ll say I’m a jealous husband. That I never want you to be in any man’s arms but mine.”
Pandora frowned, pulling the front of her nightdress together. She felt aggrieved and even a bit self-pitying—and there was nothing she despised more than self-pity. “As if anyone would believe that,” she muttered.
Gabriel took her upper arms in a firm grip. His eyes were as bright as lit matches as he stared at her. “I never want you to be in any man’s arms but mine.”
The world stopped on its axis. Pandora was stricken and frightened to think there might be even a grain of truth in his words. No, he didn’t mean it. He was manipulating her.
She pushed at his chest. It was as hard as a stone wall. “Don’t say that.”
“You belong with me.”
“No.”
“You feel it,” he insisted, “every time we’re together. You want—”
She tried to hush him with her mouth, which in retrospect was not the wisest tactic. Gabriel responded immediately, his kiss deep and demanding.
In the next moment she was on her back, stretched out beneath him. He braced enough of his weight on his elbows and knees to keep from crushing her, but she was still anchored securely, pressed into the sofa cushions while he kissed her with slow, consuming ardor. He seemed determined to prove something, as if she didn’t already want him, as if she weren’t already weak with hunger. Her mouth opened to his, absorbing the intoxicating taste of him, the smooth male heat, the erotic exploration of his tongue. She couldn’t stop her hands from sliding over the heavy muscles of his back, the skin luxurious to the touch, thicker and more satiny than her own.
His parted lips dragged slowly over her neck and down to her breasts. She arched as he captured a taut nipple with his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, catching at it lightly with his teeth. His hand covered her other breast, shaping the malleable flesh, before sliding along the side of her body, charting the curves of waist and hip. The hem of her nightdress had ridden up on her thighs, making it easy for him to tug it up to her waist. Shocked, she clamped her thighs together.
Her toes bunched at the sound of his soft laugh. Devilish, sensuous, knowing. Easing to his side, Gabriel trailed his fingertips across her stomach to her navel, caressing around it with lazy circles. At the same time, he kissed and sucked at the tip of her breast until it was wet and unbearably sensitive.
His fingertips tickled their way down to the thatch of silky-coarse curls between her thighs, stroking idly. Pandora writhed, her gaze unfocused. Oh God, was she really letting him do this? Yes, she was. Moaning with shame and worry, she felt him playing softly with her, the tip of his middle finger sliding into the top of the delicate furrow of her sex. A brief, ticklish swirl left her gasping. Her legs pressed together more tightly.
His mouth released her breast. “Open to me,” he whispered.
She bit her lip as he stroked through the curls, the darting touches of his fingers making her weak. Her body was nothing but heat driven by heartbeats. Nothing was clear anymore. Nothing mattered except what he was doing to her. Her legs shook, and she whimpered at the effort it took to keep them together.
“Pandora . . .” His voice was soft and seductive. “Open to me.” His fingertip insinuated between the sensitive folds of her sex and wriggled gently. The sensation rippled through her like flickers of white flame. “So stubborn,” he whispered. “Oh, Pandora, don’t tempt me. You’re going to make me do something wicked.” His forefinger slid along the seam of her closed thighs. “Just part them one inch. For me.” A hot breath of laughter fanned against her skin. “Not even an inch?”
“It’s embarrassing,” she protested. “You’re bothering my nervous condition.”
“This is a well-known treatment for female nerves.”
“It’s not helping. You’re . . . ahh! . . . making it worse . . .”
Gabriel was moving lower, tasting her skin, biting softly, using his teeth . . . lips . . . tongue . . . She tried to roll out from beneath him, but he caught her hips and held her in place. There was a wet swirl around her navel, painting it with liquid fire before trailing downward. Her heart thudded painfully as she felt him breathe against the most intimate place of her body. He nuzzled into the wispy curls, separating them with his tongue. A peculiar slide of heat, a slithery tickle.
Astonished, she shrank away from him, but he stayed with her, licking into wet-rose tenderness, teasing it open. Her thighs fell apart in helpless surrender. His tongue found moist silken flesh, the soft-secreted bud, and circled lightly, delicately, while his hands moved slowly up and down her thighs.
Pleasure was spreading everywhere, beneath her skin and in the spaces between her heartbeats. All her senses focused on the spell he was working, an enchantment of fire wrapped in darkness. He rested the flat of his tongue against her, and to her everlasting embarrassment, her hips pushed against him. After a few fluttering strokes, his tongue went flat and still again. She couldn’t stop herself from writhing, and she felt the heat of his chuckle against her. He was playing with her, making her do shameful things. As her hands fumbled to push his head away, he caught her shaking wrists and pinned them to the sofa. He found a rhythm of light, steady flicks that made her insides clench rhythmically, like a heartbeat. He knew what he was doing, relentlessly stoking the feeling higher, higher, until it turned molten and began to flood every part of her. She tried to hold it back, but that only made it worse, setting off long, bone-deep shudders that wracked her entire frame. She felt her eyes roll back in her head, her limbs drawing up with the primitive urge to close around something.
As the last tremors smoothed into peacefulness, Gabriel rose over her and pulled her into his arms. She stretched and nestled against his side, hitching a thigh over one of his. Her limbs felt pleasantly heavy, as if she were waking from a long sleep, and for once her mind was utterly focused, without the distraction of too many thoughts. She felt the shapes of words brushing her ear as he whispered something, the same few words over and over, until Pandora stirred and mumbled, “That’s my bad ear.”
His smile curved against her cheek, and he lifted his head. “I know.”
What had he been whispering? Bemused, Pandora let her hand drift over his chest, playing with the light, glinting fur, feeling the armor of ribs and hard muscle beneath. The flesh of his stomach and sides was so different from hers, tough and sinewy, the skin gleaming like polished marble.
Fascinated, she let the backs of her fingers inch timidly to the front of his trousers, where the heavy ridge of his aroused flesh strained against the black broadcloth. Turning over her hand, she dared to curve her palm against the shaft, and followed it all the way down to the base and up again. It was scary and exciting and unbelievable to be touching him like
this. His breath quickened, and an involuntary quiver chased across his stomach as she gripped over the stiffness.
Beneath her fingers, the hard flesh seemed to possess its own pulses and responsive twitches. She wanted to see this mysterious part of him. She wanted to find out what it felt like. The front of his trousers had been styled in the classic formal design, a fall attached with two side rows of buttons. Timidly her hand slid to the nearest row of buttons.
His hand came to hers, arresting her wandering touch, and his lips grazed her temple. “Better not, sweet.”
Pandora frowned. “But it’s not fair for you to treat my nervous condition, and me to do nothing for yours.”
His gentle laugh filtered through her hair. “We’ll take care of mine later.” Leaning over her, he took her lips with a brief, ardent kiss. “Let me carry you to bed now,” he whispered, “and tuck you in like a good little girl.”
“Not yet,” she protested. “I want to stay here with you.” The storm rolled over the house, rain falling with the force of bronze pennies. She snuggled more tightly into the warm crook of Gabriel’s arm. “Besides . . . you still haven’t answered the question I asked you at the archery grounds.”
“What question?”
“You were going to tell me the worst thing about yourself.”
“God. Do we have to discuss that now?”
“You said you wanted to talk about it in private. I don’t know when we’ll have another chance.”
Gabriel frowned and remained silent, occupied with thoughts that seemed far from pleasant. Perhaps he wasn’t certain how to begin.
“Does it have something to do with your mistress?” she asked helpfully.
Gabriel gave her a narrowed glance, as if the question had taken him aback. “So you’ve heard about that.”