Chapter 10
“Excuse me?” Gabrielle said. In love with her? Devlin was in love with her? Staring down at him, she stifled the urge to knock her hand against her ear. “Say that again.”
He shot her a dirty look. “You heard me. I said I think I’m in love with you.”
Her heart pounded hard. He couldn’t mean it, could he? “You think you’re in love with me? What, are you hoping it will pass, like a bad cold?”
His lips twitched. “All right. I’m in love with you.”
Maybe the alcohol hadn’t left her system and she was having a flashback, Gabrielle thought, still staring at him.
“God, I can’t believe I just told you that,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. He blew out his breath on a long sigh and shoved a hand through his hair again. “Surprised the hell out of me too.”
Why would he tell her he loved her? What kind of cruel game was he playing now?
The longer she looked at him and thought about it, the stronger her fury grew.
Her chest heaving with emotion, she launched herself at him, intent on inflicting pain.
“You pig! Jerk! Do you think I’ll fall for this line? I don’t know what kind of game you?—”
Before she could connect, he grabbed both of her wrists and wrestled her down. She landed on her back on the couch, her legs splayed across his lap. He glared at her while she struggled. “Dammit, Gabrielle, stop it! I’m not playing games. It’s the truth.”
Unable to break his iron grip, she stilled and stared up into his face.
Even angry, she couldn’t deny he got to her.
He seemed serious, and not happy about the matter, either.
Besides, Devlin wasn’t the type to profess love just to get a woman into bed.
He didn’t need to, and he knew it. Maybe he did mean it.
Devlin Sinclair, the eternal Don Juan, had just told her he was in love with her.
This had to be a dream. “Why?” she whispered.
“Why am I in love with you?”
She nodded.
For the first time since he started the conversation, Devlin smiled.
That take-off-your-clothes-and-I-promise-to-make-you-a-happy-woman smile.
But for some reason, it looked like he was smiling just for her.
Her bones turned to cream cheese, and her heart gave a funny lurch.
Oh, God, no. She couldn’t be in love with him too. Could she?
His gaze ran down her body while he considered her, returning to her eyes after a long study.
“I think it’s your mouth.” She blinked. He shifted his grip to hold her wrists together, still stretched above her head.
Slowly, he traced his forefinger over her lips, barely touching them.
“Smart. Sassy.” Smiling, he dipped his finger inside her mouth and continued tracing with the finger now dampened.
Gabrielle had never felt anything quite like it in her life.
Her stomach fluttered, her breasts tightened, her skin tingled.
All from the touch of his finger tracing her lips. And the look in his eyes as he did so.
“Quick,” he added, his voice deepening. “And then there’s how your mouth looks. Soft, wide, beautiful. Tempting.” While he spoke, he continued the mesmerizing motion of his finger, sliding it into her mouth, taking it out and shaping her lips.
Gabrielle couldn’t have spoken if the couch had caught on fire. He was too smooth, too gorgeous, too knowing to be for real, but oh, she didn’t care. If he didn’t kiss her soon, she was going to explode.
“But the best thing,” he murmured, his voice a husky caress, “is how you taste. Warm.” He kissed a corner of her mouth, as lightly as an imaginary lover might have.
“Giving.” He repeated the caress at the other corner.
“Seductive.” For an instant only, he touched his lips to hers, then drew back to stare at her once again.
Spellbound, Gabrielle could barely breathe. The only thought she had was to wish he would kiss her, really kiss her, and end the torture. Except she knew that would be only the beginning.
“Sweet,” he whispered, his mouth coming closer, hovering a breath away.
“So damn sweet,” he said, then he kissed her and she went up in flames.
His tongue stroked inside, touched and toyed with hers, slipped out and in again to repeat the tantalizing process.
Eager to touch, to caress his chest, she whimpered against his mouth and tried to free her arms. He held her still, deepening the kiss until she felt as fluid as water.
Finally, he released her arms, and she wrapped them around his neck, pulling him closer.
His lips blazed a wet, heated trail down her neck, and she arched it to offer him better access.
His teeth scraped at the hollow, then he pressed his open mouth against her throat, making her shiver, making her burn.
Her mind shouted that she was flirting with disaster, playing with a more dangerous fire than she could imagine, but she had never felt this strong, this alive, so she ignored it.
She didn’t want to think. In the morning she would think.
Tonight…tonight was for emotions, and she gave herself freely to the erotic sensations buffeting her.
Shifting their position, Devlin lay almost fully on top of her, the weight of his body a seduction in itself, and her legs parted to hold him intimately against her. It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s heavy weight, felt a man’s desire for her.
He lifted his head and gazed at her. “Tell me no, Gabrielle. Stop me now, or I won’t stop until I’m so deep inside you that neither of us will be able to think or breathe.”
Her heart somersaulted, and Gabrielle knew if she hadn’t been lost before, she was now.
The hard ridge of his arousal pressed at the softness of her thighs, a promise of passion still to come.
She breathed in his scent, and her senses swam with longing.
He wanted her to stop him? Nothing short of a nuclear bomb would stop them from making love this time.
She didn’t trust herself to speak, but worked his knit shirt from his jeans, her eyes never leaving his.
He sat back as she rose, until they were side by side on the couch and his shirttail hung free.
Her hands slipped underneath, gliding over the bare skin of his chest as she pushed the shirt higher, until she had stripped him of it.
Her breath caught deep in her throat as she stared at him.
His shoulders were broad, his arms and his chest well-toned but not bulky.
Underneath the smooth golden tanned skin, his muscles rippled as she spread her hands over his chest in a wonder of discovery.
A light sprinkling of blond hair ran down the center of his chest, growing heavier the lower her gaze reached, until it disappeared under the waistband of his jeans.
Though she’d guessed that his clothes hid a beautiful body, she hadn’t known just how intoxicating that bare expanse of flesh stretched taut over muscle and sinew would be until she saw it.
Until she touched the warm, naked skin and felt him quiver in response to her.
They stared at each other in silence, then she guided his hands underneath her top, halting only when they covered her breasts. “Make love with me, Devlin,” she said, wondering if that could really be her voice sounding so husky, so inviting.
His eyes flared bright with passion. He pushed her top up, stripping her as she had stripped him moments earlier.
As he gazed at her breasts, covered by a white French bra made mostly of lace, he smiled, a slow, wicked smile of promise.
“Pretty,” he said, and flicked the bra open with a deft twist of his wrist. Spreading the wisps of fabric, he covered her breasts with warm palms, and she gasped at the exquisite feel of his hands on her bare skin.
“But these—” he squeezed her breasts gently and rubbed his palms over her nipples “—are beautiful.” Then he bent his head and fastened his mouth over one taut crest.
Fiery shivers of sensation shot from her breast to the heat pooling between her legs.
Her back arched, and her head fell back.
She buried her fingers in the thick, silky strands of his hair and clung to him.
His mouth clamped hard on her other nipple, then he rolled his tongue around it, taunting, teasing while he bore her down onto the couch.
He continued to torment her, alternately sucking her nipples and laving her breasts with warm moisture.
Her blood hummed, spreading the sweet agony to every part of her body.
His hand slid between her thighs and cupped her through her jeans.
Her hips jerked, and she gave a strangled groan when he unzipped her pants and worked his hand inside the denim to caress her through her satin panties.
Muttering something—a curse, a prayer—Devlin shoved the narrow strip of satin aside and stroked his fingers over her bare flesh. “God.” He groaned. “You feel like heaven.” Another stroke, then he thrust his finger inside her, slid out, and thrust inside again. “Sweet, hot heaven.”
Her muscles clenched, tightening around his finger. Was it possible to die from pleasure? She saw him watching her. Watching the movements of his hand and her reaction to him. She couldn’t help but lift her hips and moan his name in supplication.
“Let go, Gabrielle. I want to see you.”
His words as much as the tormenting action of his thumb on her center of pleasure sent her spiraling.
Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have halted the release that swept over her like heat shimmering in the desert.
He gave her no time to recover, but continued the blissful torture until he’d pushed her to the brink again.
“Devlin, I want you now,” she said, choking off the last word when he slipped another finger inside her.
“Shh,” he said, kissing her mouth while he continued the motions of his hand. “Slow down.”