CHAPTER FIVE PRACTICE IN TEMPTATION #4
She moved. Pleasure spread through her, stronger now, collecting around a place between her thighs she had never examined closely enough to understand.
Gabriel’s leg provided firm pressure through layers of silk and linen, and each deliberate movement sharpened the ache.
His mouth returned to hers. Eleanor rocked against him while they kissed.
She felt no shame. The carriage was dark, the curtains closed and the man beneath her had taught her that desire was information rather than accusation.
Her body wanted more. For once, she allowed the knowledge to exist without correcting it.
Gabriel’s hand slid down her hip and gathered her skirts.
Eleanor felt the fabric rise along her calves. Then her knees. Cool air touched her stockings. His fingers moved beneath the folds. She stilled. Gabriel stopped immediately. His mouth remained close to hers.
“May I?”
Eleanor’s pulse raced.
“Yes.”
His hand travelled upward beneath her skirts.
He touched her ankle first, then followed the line of her stocking-covered calf.
The slow ascent made each inch of skin feel newly exposed despite the fabric between them.
His palm passed her knee and reached the bare flesh above her garter.
Eleanor shivered. Gabriel’s fingers paused upon her thigh.
“Still?”
“Yes.”
He moved higher. The tips of his fingers brushed the edge of her drawers.
Eleanor’s breath caught. No man had ever touched her there.
The knowledge should have frightened her.
Instead, anticipation made her thighs tighten around Gabriel’s leg.
He kissed her slowly while his hand slipped through the opening in her undergarment.
The first contact was feather-light. Eleanor jerked.
Gabriel’s arm tightened around her waist.
“Easy.”
“What—”
Her question dissolved when his fingers moved again.
He touched the sensitive flesh between her thighs with a care that made the act more intimate, not less.
Eleanor became aware of warmth and wetness she had not known her body could produce so quickly.
Gabriel felt it. His breath roughened against her mouth.
“You are wet.”
The blunt words sent another pulse of desire through her. She should have been embarrassed and pressed closer instead.
“Is that good?”
His eyes closed briefly.
“Yes.”
The answer sounded painful. Gabriel’s fingers explored slowly, learning her with the same attention Eleanor gave to a difficult text.
He traced the soft folds, spreading moisture and watching every response.
When one fingertip passed over a particularly sensitive point, Eleanor cried out.
Gabriel covered her mouth with his. He touched the place again.
Pleasure flashed through her so sharply that her hips moved against his hand.
“There,” he murmured.
Eleanor gripped his shoulders. His finger circled, light at first, then firmer when she leaned into the pressure.
The ache that had gathered since the library intensified, building with each stroke.
She could no longer think in complete sentences.
Gabriel kissed her throat while his hand continued beneath her skirts.
His thumb moved over the sensitive point as one finger slid lower, testing the entrance to her body without pushing inside. Eleanor tensed. He stopped.
“Too much?”
“No.”
“You tightened.”
“I do not know what to expect.”
Gabriel lifted his head. The desire in his face did not obscure his attention.
“You do not have to know.”
“I dislike uncertainty.”
“I know.”
His thumb stroked her again, gentler.
“Tell me what you feel.”
“Heat.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
“Do you want more pressure?”
“Yes.”
He gave it. Eleanor’s head fell back. Gabriel’s finger pressed just inside her, barely enough to stretch the opening.
Her body clenched around the intrusion, unfamiliar but not painful.
He held still until she relaxed. Then he moved.
Slowly. Eleanor’s hands slid into his hair.
The carefully arranged strands loosened beneath her fingers, and the sight of Gabriel becoming disordered because of her sent a fierce surge of confidence through the pleasure.
His finger withdrew and returned, while his thumb continued circling above.
The combination became overwhelming. Eleanor rocked against his hand and thigh, chasing the sensation without being told. Gabriel watched her face as though nothing outside the carriage existed.
“That is it,” he said quietly. “Take what you want.”
The words pushed her closer to something vast and frighteningly near.
Pressure gathered low inside her, tightening with every movement.
Her breathing became shallow. She felt as though her body were drawing inward around a point of unbearable pleasure.
Gabriel’s mouth moved over hers. His finger pressed deeper.
Eleanor knew she was approaching the completion he had denied them in Sabine’s library.
She wanted it and also wanted the decision to belong entirely to her.
“Stop.”
Gabriel froze. His hand remained beneath her skirts, his finger still inside her, but every movement ceased. The sudden loss of stimulation left Eleanor trembling. Gabriel’s face sharpened with concern.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“Are you frightened?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
Eleanor forced herself to breathe.
“I was close.”
“Yes.”
His voice was strained.
“I know.”
“Do you want me to move away?”
“No.”
Gabriel stared at her. Eleanor looked down at the place where his arm disappeared beneath the gathered skirts.
“I wanted to know that I could stop,” she said.
Understanding moved across his face.
“You can always stop.”
“I know because the rules say so. I wanted to feel it.”
Gabriel withdrew his hand slowly, careful not to scrape or startle her.
The loss made Eleanor ache. He lowered her skirts over her legs, restoring layers of respectability while she remained astride his thigh, breathing like a woman who had run through rain.
Gabriel brought the hand that had touched her into the faint lantern light.
His fingers glistened. Eleanor’s face heated.
He looked at them. Then at her. The intimacy of the moment became almost unbearable.
Gabriel lifted his hand to his mouth. Eleanor caught his wrist before his tongue could touch his finger. His eyes flashed.
“No.”
The word emerged with more confidence than she felt.
Gabriel’s brows rose. “No?”
“You are not permitted to enjoy a completion I refused.”
For one second, he appeared incapable of speech. Then a rough laugh escaped him.
“Eleanor Finch.”
She maintained her hold upon his wrist. “Is my reasoning unsound?”
“Your reasoning may kill me.”
“That seems excessive.”
“You are sitting astride my leg, your taste is upon my hand and you have just informed me I may not have it.”
The bluntness sent heat through her all over again.
Eleanor slowly released his wrist. Gabriel lowered his hand but did not clean it.
His restraint felt like obedience. She looked at the front of his trousers.
The hard length beneath the fabric was more pronounced than it had been in Sabine’s library.
Eleanor touched him. Gabriel inhaled sharply.
Her palm settled over him through the cloth.
The carriage jolted over uneven stones, pressing her hand more firmly against his erection.
Gabriel’s head tipped back. She remembered the way he had guided her grip before.
This time, she required no guidance. Eleanor traced him from base to tip, feeling the heat and hardness through the fabric. Gabriel’s hands tightened around her waist, but he did not attempt to direct her.
“You are in pain,” she said.
“Not precisely.”
“You sound pained.”
“I am exercising character.”
“You said that would take time.”
“I have encountered a powerful incentive.”
She stroked him again. Gabriel’s eyes closed.
His hips shifted beneath her hand. Eleanor felt the response in her own body, though he no longer touched her intimately.
The knowledge that she could affect him this deeply gave her a new form of desire, less passive and more dangerous.
She tightened her grip. Gabriel caught her wrist. This time the movement held no concern. Only desperation.
“If you continue,” he said, “I will spend in my trousers like a schoolboy.”
Eleanor’s breath caught at the explicit admission.
“Would that be unpleasant?”
“For my dignity.”
“You have said dignity is overrated.”
“I was speaking of other men.”
Eleanor moved her thumb over the ridge near the top of his erection.
Gabriel’s control fractured visibly. His mouth opened upon a rough breath, and his head pressed back against the carriage wall.
The sight nearly persuaded her to continue until she felt him lose control beneath her hand.
Instead, she stopped. His eyes opened. Eleanor withdrew her hand and settled it upon his shoulder.
“That seems equitable.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“Equitable?”
“We are both frustrated.”
“You consider this justice?”
“I consider it education.”
His hands slid slowly from her waist to her hips.
“You are becoming dangerous.”
Eleanor leaned closer until her mouth nearly touched his.
“You agreed to the education.”
She kissed him once, softly, then moved from his lap and returned to the opposite seat.
Gabriel remained motionless. His hair was disordered, his mouth swollen and his erection still visibly straining against his trousers.
Eleanor drew on her gloves with unsteady fingers.
The gesture restored little of the composure she had lost, but she refused to lower her gaze.
Gabriel looked at her as though she had become a problem he intended to study for the rest of his life.
“You stopped yourself,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted the choice more than I wanted the release.”