CHAPTER SEVEN THE TERMS OF PLEASURE #5
He circled faster. Eleanor’s body tightened around him.
Gabriel groaned and buried his face against her neck.
The orgasm broke through her with greater force than the first. She cried his name as pleasure pulsed around him, her inner muscles contracting with each wave.
Gabriel thrust once, twice, then tore himself away.
The loss made her gasp. He knelt between her thighs, his hand closing around himself.
Eleanor watched his face tighten as he reached release, spending hot against her lower stomach with a rough sound that seemed dragged from somewhere beyond language. For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Gabriel bent and pressed his forehead against her thigh. Eleanor touched his hair. His breathing slowly steadied. The room smelled of wax, fire and sex. Gabriel lifted his head. He looked dazed. Eleanor experienced a fierce, private satisfaction.
“So,” she said, “was my technique adequate?”
He stared at her. Then laughter broke from him.
Not the polished laugh he used at salons.
This was unrestrained and exhausted, his shoulders shaking as he lowered his face against her leg again.
Eleanor began laughing too. The absurdity of it—the Mercury Club, her father’s betrayal, Gabriel naked between her thighs while she requested an assessment—released something she had not realised she was holding.
Gabriel climbed beside her. He used a cloth from the washstand to clean her stomach, then returned with warm water and another cloth for the more sensitive evidence between her thighs.
The care was matter-of-fact. That made it more intimate. Eleanor watched him.
“You have done this before.”
“Yes.”
Jealousy stirred again. Gabriel noticed.
“No false indifference,” he said.
She frowned. “What?”
“You disliked the answer.”
“I did not.”
He lifted one brow.
Eleanor sighed. “I disliked imagining you doing this with someone else.”
Gabriel placed the cloth aside.
“I have been with other women.”
“I know.”
“You asked for no promises.”
“I did.”
“But?”
Eleanor looked toward the fire.
“But knowledge and emotion are not always governed by the same rules.”
Gabriel lay beside her.
“No,” he said quietly. “They are not.”
He drew the covers over them. Eleanor had expected him to leave after the act. Perhaps not immediately, but once politeness allowed. Instead, he remained on his side, facing her, one hand resting between them upon the mattress. She placed her fingers over his. Gabriel looked at their joined hands.
“This changes the arrangement,” he said.
“It fulfils the new one.”
“You make everything sound contractual.”
“Contracts clarify obligations.”
“And what are mine?”
“Honesty.”
His thumb moved over hers.
“That may be the most unreasonable demand anyone has made of me.”
“You may withdraw.”
Gabriel’s eyes met hers.
“No.”
The answer warmed her more than the blankets.
They lay quietly while the candles shortened.
Eleanor’s body felt pleasantly heavy, though tenderness had begun to gather between her thighs.
She would feel the encounter tomorrow. The knowledge did not frighten her.
She had chosen every part of it. Gabriel shifted.
His hand left hers. He sat upon the edge of the bed.
Eleanor opened her eyes fully. “Where are you going?”
He reached toward the chair containing his clothes.
“Downstairs.”
“Why?”
“You need sleep.”
“So do you.”
“I will sleep at home.”
Eleanor pushed herself onto one elbow, ignoring the ache between her legs.
“Do rakes always flee before dawn?”
Gabriel’s back became still.
“Only when remaining becomes dangerous.”
“Dangerous to whom?”
He looked over his shoulder. The firelight moved across the scars upon his back. Eleanor felt the tenderness in her chest before she could guard against it.
“To everyone involved,” he said.
She sat upright, holding the sheet over her breasts.
“Am I dangerous?”
Gabriel turned. His gaze moved over her mussed hair, swollen mouth and the body half concealed by linen. Desire returned to his face, but it was not the only thing there.
“More than anyone I have ever known.”
Eleanor smiled because the answer sounded like charm and because treating it as charm felt safer.
Gabriel did not smile back. He looked at his clothes.
Then at the bed. The struggle lasted only a moment.
He lay down again. Eleanor lowered herself beside him.
Gabriel did not draw her into his arms. He seemed uncertain whether he was permitted.
Eleanor solved the problem by moving closer and placing her head upon his shoulder. His body went still.
Then one arm came around her. The embrace felt more dangerous than intercourse had.
Eleanor closed her eyes. Gabriel’s fingers moved slowly along her back, not seeking pleasure now, only learning the shape of her in rest. She listened to the beat of his heart.
It remained too quick for sleep. Eventually, Eleanor’s breathing deepened.
Gabriel waited until he believed she had drifted beyond hearing.
He touched a loose strand of hair near her cheek and wound it once around his finger.
“This was never supposed to matter,” he whispered.
Eleanor’s eyes remained closed.