Chapter 12 #3
The room lay in shadow, the furniture shrouded beneath dust sheets, shapes touched by the faint silver sheen seeping through the curtains. Olivia closed the door. The soft click sent a thrill through him—part anticipation, part danger, all desire.
She faced him, meeting his gaze with unflinching defiance.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” came her terse warning, not the rampant coupling he longed for.
“Don’t use me to make her jealous. The moment you called out to me, it was obvious you knew she was there. That kiss was staged to prove a point.”
It took him a moment to gather his wits. “I wanted her to know she’s not the woman who keeps me awake at night.”
“Why? Why is her opinion so important?”
“It’s not. It’s your opinion that matters most.” Frustration—and the throbbing ache in his trousers—drove him to close the gap between them. “Did you not hear what I said during dinner? Do you not see what you do to me?”
She raised her chin. “Explain it again. You seem to change your mind as often as the weather.”
He reached for the belt of her wrapper, untying it slowly. “I lied when I offered a marriage built on friendship. I simply didn’t know it was a lie at the time.”
She inhaled sharply as the garment fell open, his hand finding the curve of her hip. “Then you agree we might have a marriage based on physical needs as well as friendship?”
He almost laughed. Presently, the righteous Lord Rothley would say anything to join her in bed. “Let’s just say it’s no longer my opinions that are rigid. And the feeling I have when I kiss you is the only honest thing I’ve felt in thirty years.”
A hint of a smile graced her lips. “And if we tire of each other? What then, Gabriel?”
He slid his hand higher, his thumb coming to rest an inch below her breast. “I’m not sure we will. We’re matched mentally, the attraction is undeniable, and we’re sensible enough not to have grand expectations.”
She considered the proposal. “Why the change of heart?”
“It’s not a change of heart. I’m merely accepting the inevitable.” His gaze dropped to where his hand rested. “May I touch you, Olivia?”
She swallowed, the rapid rise and fall of her chest stealing his attention. “Tell me first why you gave me a plain band as a token of our marriage. Be honest. Did it belong to a family member?”
He knew the answer would surprise her.
“No. I had it made in town while you were sleeping.” He’d paid the goldsmith a small fortune to have it ready the same day. “I measured your finger and had him engrave the inside. You deserved something more personal than diamonds.”
Her brows lifted slightly. “There’s an inscription? What does it say?”
He hesitated, his thumb tracing the outer curve of her breast. “You must discover it for yourself. Look when the time is right. When our troubles are behind us.” He hoped it was soon. “Now, will you permit me to ease this restlessness that exists between us?”
Her gaze softened, her lips parting on a breath as she arched into him and mouthed, “Yes. Touch me. You never need ask again.”
It took him a moment to master his lust, not to pin her to the wall and ravish her until her knees gave way. But he wanted to watch her. To witness the heady haze of desire light her eyes. To know he’d put it there.
He cupped her breast, soft, full, heavy in his palm, her nipple hardening against the gentle stroke of his thumb.
Her eyelids fluttered, her sweet moan an arousing aphrodisiac.
“Look at me, Olivia. Let me watch.”
She met his gaze. “Watch?”
“Watch you lose yourself to pleasure.” His voice was rough, a testament to restraint. “I’ll not rest until every part of you smells of me.”
Her breath caught. “You mean to make love here?”
“Not tonight.” His thumb traced a slow circle over her nipple. “You need to decide if you like what happens between us when I touch you intimately.”
“I’m confident I will.”
“Shall we find out?”
He kissed her deeply, intoxicated from the first touch, steeped in everything he had ever wanted to say to her.
You’re mine.
I knew it the moment we met.
I feel it every time I touch you.
And I’ll be damned before I deny myself again.
He wanted to taste every inch of her, to etch the memory into his soul, to banish every doubt that fate would one day steal this fragile hope from him.
The thought drove the kiss harder, rougher, urgency laced through every desperate stroke of their tongues.
His body throbbed with need, hard and aching for her, but this was her awakening, not his.
He wanted her to feel it. To know her power.
To understand the hunger she could stir in him with a single sigh.
He broke the kiss to trail his mouth along her jaw, down the smooth line of her throat. The womanly scent of her was intoxicating. His hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown, tracing the length of her thigh, his breath a warm whisper against her flushed skin.
“Part your legs for me, love.”
She yielded to him, a silent plea for something more intimate.
“Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he reassured her.
She cupped his cheek, closed her eyes, and kissed him with such fervour he nearly hauled her against the wall, desperate to be inside her.
Her moan vibrated against his mouth, and he drank it in, his hand gliding up the silken inside of her thigh.
“You’re sure about this?”
“Yes,” she panted. “Don’t stop, Gabriel.”
Her skin quivered beneath his touch, heat meeting heat, and for a moment the world shrank to the slow slide of his fingers and the sound of their unsteady breaths.
God, she was sweet. Sweet and wet and his for the taking.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you?” His voice was almost feral as he circled the tight bud, finding the right rhythm. “Since that first night in the music room at The Burnished Jade. Long before I dared admit it to myself.”
She gripped his shoulder, her fingers sinking into the fine wool as he slipped two fingers into her wetness, his thumb teasing the centre of her need.
“Gabriel,” came her plea.
“That’s it, love. Let it take you.” He watched her, a sliver of moonlight catching her parted lips and the rise of her breasts as she came undone.
Desire clawed at his control.
Hell, he was ready to spend in his trousers.
Her head fell back, her mouth parting on a moan—the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. He held her as her body shuddered through the exquisite sensations. It took Herculean strength not to lower her to the bare boards and lose himself completely.
They stood, gazes locked, their breathing gradually steadying.
“That was … that was—”
He kissed the words from her lips. “Don’t say it now. Think about what it means to have me in your bed. Take all the time you need.” Because he feared that once he had her, his heart might never recover.
She nodded. “Have you and Miss—”
“I’ve never touched her the way I’ve touched you.”
He straightened her nightgown and tied the belt of her wrapper.
“Allow me to escort you back to your bedchamber. We can discuss the pleasures of married life tomorrow.”
She smiled now the urge to make love had ebbed, yet something else thrummed in the air between them.
Something powerful.
Something he couldn’t name.