Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
The moment Olivia’s body settled against his, her breath caught. She’d never felt so exposed, or so certain she’d done the right thing. She hadn’t known what to expect, but his warmth surrounded her, and the last of her doubts slipped away.
When he drew the sheets over her, she was grateful for the gesture. She still couldn’t believe she’d found the courage to bare herself, but the look in his eyes, part awe, part disbelief, had been worth every trembling second.
He propped himself on one elbow. “What made you come to my chamber tonight?” He took a lock of her hair and let it slip through his fingers. “What gave you the strength to be bold?”
Even wrapped in confidence, there was something cautious in his voice, a need to know she had chosen this for herself.
“It was when you mentioned your grandmother’s motto. While showing me her portrait.”
She remembered the subtle tremor in his voice, the longing he hadn’t meant her to hear. It stayed with her, refusing to fade. And when he’d kissed her afterwards, and it almost hurt to let go, she’d realised how desperately she wanted this man.
“That the precious things aren't made of diamonds?”
“That life is fleeting, and not to waste another second.”
He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek, his breath a sensual sigh. “That’s the only reason? The wise words of a woman who saw the joy in everything?”
She dropped her gaze, but he caught her chin, urging her to look at him, to let him hear her confession.
“You want the truth?”
“Always.”
Her mouth was dry, but she owed him this.
“I can’t think when I’m with you. I just need to feel, feel your mouth on mine, your hands on my skin. The fire that burns through every thought until there’s nothing left but us.”
She had never felt more alive than in those passionate moments.
“But I’m afraid, Gabriel.”
“Afraid?” His voice gentled. “I told you, I’ll be mindful—”
“Not about making love.” She touched his chest, trailing her fingers through the dark hair there. He was remarkable in every regard. The strength beneath her hand was tempered by absolute control, every muscle honed, every breath measured. “I know you’ll be kind and gentle.”
“Then what? You fear the men hunting your father’s secrets?”
“No. I’m afraid I’ll wake in the morning and realise this was all a wonderful dream.” Worse than that. “Or that you’ll wake and think this—us—was a dreadful mistake.”
His hand skimmed the curve of her hip, drawing her against him. “Let me prove every part of this is real. Let me show you why it could never be a mistake.”
The first kiss was slow. Tentative.
Their breath mingled, lips brushing, as if neither dared move too fast. He deepened it by degrees, and the warmth between them bloomed.
Her moan spilled into him as he crushed her closer, their bodies pressing tight, the kiss turning fierce.
What began as hesitation unfurled into hunger, mouths parting, thoughts dissolving, until breathless pants became a wordless plea.
“God, woman,” he growled, fisting her hair and holding her mouth to his. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
Arousal slid through her, potent as a drug. He couldn’t kiss her deeply enough. Each long sweep of his tongue tightened her belly, the pull sharpening until her breasts felt heavy and tender, desperate for his touch.
They were so in tune he seemed to read her mind. He rolled her onto her back, pressing her into the mattress, every hard plane of him moulded to hers.
“I do nothing by halves, Olivia.” His smooth baritone sent tingles down her spine. “Not when it comes to you. I have to touch you, every part of you, with my hands, my mouth. If it’s too much, if I’m too much, you must tell me.”
She looked up at him, the candlelight carving shadows over his chest and shoulders.
He was all power and purpose, dark hair falling over his brow, tension rippling beneath every muscle.
He smelled of spice and wood and something wilder, of distant forests and midnight rain. A peaceful place. Her place.
But it wasn’t his strength that held her still. It was his eyes, dark as obsidian, dangerous to most yet heaven to her.
“You could never be too much.” She cupped his cheek. He would never hurt her, she knew, and that frightened her all the more. Because to trust him was to risk loving him.
“But do you want me? All of me?”
All of him? The notion proved a little startling. “I thought that was obvious. Do you know the strength it took to come to your room?”
He nudged her legs gently apart with his knee. “Do you know the effort it’s taking not to forget everything except the need to be inside you? How the thought of it has driven me half-mad.”
“Then don’t wait.”
“And forgo the chance to pleasure you?” His grin carried a trace of arrogance. “To show you what it means when a man makes love to his wife, when I make love to you, Olivia?”
“Then show me, Gabriel.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
If she’d had to list the places a man might kiss a woman, she would have fallen dreadfully short. He pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheek, her jaw, her mouth. Each kiss led him lower—the hollow of her throat, the languid brush along her collarbone, the curve of her breast.
He looked up at her through lowered lashes before tracing her nipple with the tip of his tongue and drawing it softly between his lips.
She moaned quietly, barely moving until the sensation sent flutters through her belly. Need overcame hesitation. She slid her fingers into his hair and arched her back, pressing herself deeper into his mouth.
“Gabriel, please.” The sound of her own voice surprised her, so desperate, so needy, driven by every teasing suck and the hard ridge of him hot against her thigh. “Don’t stop.”
He moved to worship the other breast, then continued lower, slowing as he trailed kisses down her body before settling between her thighs. “You wanted to know what I could promise?”
If his vow was to make her feel wanted, to leave her aroused beyond reason, he had already fulfilled it.
“I mean to taste you. And I promise you’ll crave more of me when I do.”
He parted her legs and lowered his mouth to her most intimate place.
The first stroke of his tongue stole her breath.
With it came the realisation she had made a shocking error of judgement.
With others, Gabriel was staid. Principled.
But with her, he was a man ruled by need, by hunger, by a reckless desire to possess.
Yes, you’re so different with me.
She smiled, the thought oddly pleasing.
No one had ever touched her like this. As if he meant to learn every inch of her, to claim her, brand her, undo her until there was no part of her that didn’t belong to him.
“Let me show you how it feels to be mine,” he murmured against her skin, his tongue tracing slow, torturous patterns until she could no longer stay still.
She could no longer think. Only feel.
Every flick of his tongue wound her tighter, until pleasure coiled and broke in one breathless rush.
Release took her, swift and shattering. The world fell away until there was nothing but him.
The man who’d saved her. The man who held her. The man she feared had claimed her heart.
The pleasure was fierce, but it was the connection that left her shaken.
“Gabriel … yes. Oh, sweet heaven.”
She panted his name, the sound a plea, a prayer.
He rose over her, a fire in his eyes, his tongue skimming his lips as though he’d tasted Molière’s peaches à la crème. One hand closed around himself, a shudder running through him as he stroked, deliberately.
“Do you want more, Olivia?”
She looked at him, at the hard, pulsing length of him, and dismissed her concern. “I want it all.” A vision flashed through her mind: a real marriage, a real family, a love that might last a lifetime. “You promised to leave no part untouched. I mean to hold you to that vow.”
“And I always keep my word.”
He pressed against her, thick and insistent, sending a ripple of tension through her body. Then his eyes found hers, searching, waiting for permission. She gave it with a trembling nod.
He hesitated, the moment a tense beat between them.
“If we do this, there’s no going back.”
“I know.” Her hands smoothed over his taut arms, urging him not to wait. “Everything about this feels right.”
Surely fate couldn’t fool her again.
Nothing prepared her for the moment he entered her.
He was tender, careful, as if she were something precious.
She tensed at the unfamiliar pressure.
His hand slipped into hers, grounding her. “Tell me you’re all right.”
“Yes, are you?”
He bent his head and kissed her. “Never better. But I can’t promise this won’t hurt.”
“Nothing you do could hurt me, Gabriel.”
She wanted all of him, with a longing that bordered on desperation.
He filled her slowly, and she felt it all, the stretch, the sweetness, the sense that her body had been made to welcome him. Every inch of him seemed to claim a piece of her heart, binding them together in a way words could never undo.
He withdrew with a groan, then thrust deeper.
Her breath caught on a gasp.
“Olivia?”
“I’m all right,” she whispered, her fingers finding his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
Not now. Not ever.
He froze, just long enough to look into her eyes.
Then he moved again, each stroke measured.
“God,” he breathed, the sound rough with wonder. “You’re mine now. And you feel like heaven.”
Her heartbeat thundered at the husky command in his voice. She wrapped her thighs tighter around him. This felt like heaven too.
He moved inside her, deeper, then faster, until the rhythm found them both. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard knocking softly against the wall.
Every thrust drew a sound from him she’d never heard before. The plea for more from a man who never begged. The incoherent growls from one who took pride in his eloquence.
He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other gripping her hip, holding her steady as he kept the promise to leave no part untouched.
Pleasure surged through her, curling her toes, lifting her spine from the bed.
He kissed her deeply, recklessly, a taste of everything they’d denied themselves, a need so fierce it threatened to undo them both.
Desire licked along her body like flame, each stroke fanning the heat higher. She clung to him, nails digging into his back as his body drove into hers in a hard, desperate rhythm.
Oh, the things he did to her. The way he made her feel.
There was no thought now. No restraint. Only sensation, skin to skin, breath to breath, his voice shuddering against her name.
They moved as one. The world narrowed to the wild beat of their hearts and the hush of whispered pleas.
The pleasure came swift and shattering, stealing every sense until she was lost in him.
Just before release claimed him, he withdrew, groaning as he spilled over her belly, his breath ragged, his muscles taut from the strain.
For a moment, he hovered, chest heaving, head bowed. Then he gathered her close, one hand at the nape of her neck, the other cradling her hip, grounding them both in the stillness that followed.
His mouth found hers in a kiss that was all devotion and disbelief.
When it ended, he stayed close, forehead pressed to hers.
Neither spoke.
There were no words.
Only the slow return to breath, to the shape of his body wrapped around hers. And the quiet certainty that she belonged there.