CHAPTER NINE WHAT THE SCHOLAR STOLE #5
He cupped her cheek. His thumb moved over her lower lip.
Eleanor kissed it. Gabriel closed his eyes briefly.
Then he lifted her into his arms. She wrapped herself around him as he carried her from the study into the adjoining private chamber.
The room was dark except for firelight and a single lamp near the bed.
No servants had prepared it for seduction.
Books rested upon one table, a half-written letter lay near the window and a coat had been left over a chair. This was Gabriel’s room.
Not the chamber he used for guests or lovers, Eleanor suspected.
The one where he slept alone. He laid her upon the bed.
Eleanor reached for him immediately. Gabriel came down beside her rather than above, keeping their bodies level.
Their mouths met while their hands explored without urgency.
He touched her breast. Not with the confident skill of an instructor demonstrating pleasure, but with reverence and uncertainty.
His palm shaped her softly. His thumb passed once over the nipple, then stopped as he watched her face.
“More,” Eleanor whispered.
He obeyed. Pleasure tightened through her.
Gabriel bent to take the nipple into his mouth.
His tongue circled slowly, and Eleanor’s fingers moved through his hair.
He gave equal attention to the other breast, kissing the skin between them and resting his cheek against her for one brief moment.
Eleanor felt the tenderness in her throat.
“Stay with me,” she said.
He lifted his head.
“I am here.”
“No. Do not disappear into what you think I want. Do not become Lord Ashcombe.”
His expression became naked with fear.
“I do not know who remains.”
“You.”
“That is not always enough.”
“It is tonight.”
Gabriel kissed her. The contact deepened. His hand travelled down her stomach and between her thighs. Eleanor opened for him, and his fingers found her already wet. His breath roughened.
“You still want me.”
She touched his face.
“Do you need to ask?”
“Yes.”
The answer mattered.
“Yes,” Eleanor said. “I want you.”
Gabriel’s fingers moved. He touched her slowly, circling the swollen point that made her hips rise.
Eleanor watched his face while pleasure built.
He did not look away from her. Even when she gasped, even when her thighs tightened around his hand, he remained present.
She reached for his erection. He was hard and hot against her palm.
Gabriel groaned, but he did not change the rhythm of his fingers.
They touched one another together, learning how pleasure could be given without creating distance.
Eleanor stroked him slowly. Gabriel entered her with two fingers, stretching her while his thumb continued above.
The pressure gathered. She felt the approach of release, but she did not close her eyes.
“Look at me,” Gabriel murmured.
“I am.”
His fingers curved inside her. Pleasure flashed. Eleanor cried out. Gabriel’s face tightened with desire.
“Again,” she said.
He repeated the motion. The climax built more slowly than it had at Rothmere House, unfolding through her body rather than overtaking it.
Eleanor watched Gabriel watching her and understood that the openness between them was part of the pleasure.
When release came, she held his gaze. Her body tightened around his fingers.
Waves moved through her, softer at first and then deep enough to make her shudder beneath him.
Gabriel kissed her through the final pulses.
He removed his hand gently. Eleanor continued stroking him.
His erection throbbed against her fingers.
“Your turn,” she whispered.
He shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“I want to be inside you when I lose control.”
The words sent another rush of heat between her thighs. Gabriel rose from the bed and crossed to a cabinet. He returned with a small package.
“A sheath,” he said.
Eleanor recognised the precaution they had discussed before.
“You remembered.”
“I purchased several after Rothmere House.”
The admission drew a faint smile from her.
“You planned ahead.”
“I hoped against judgement.”
He opened the packet and rolled the thin protective covering over his erection.
Eleanor watched. Gabriel returned to the bed and lay beside her.
He did not place himself over her until she reached for him.
When he moved between her thighs, Eleanor wrapped one leg around his hip. Gabriel guided himself to her entrance.
“Tell me.”
“Yes.”
He pressed inside slowly. The first stretch remained intense, though her body remembered him. Eleanor breathed through the fullness while Gabriel stopped after every inch. His forehead rested against hers.
“Pain?”
“No.”
“More?”
“Yes.”
He entered completely. They remained still.
Eleanor felt every part of him, the pressure deep within her and the weight of his body held carefully above hers.
She touched the scar upon his shoulder. Gabriel kissed her palm.
Then he withdrew and returned. Slowly. No hurry transformed the act into escape.
He moved with deliberate depth, watching her face and allowing each stroke to finish before beginning another.
Eleanor matched him. Her hips lifted. Gabriel’s breath caught.
“That.”
She repeated the movement. His control tightened visibly.
“You like when I meet you.”
“I like everything you do.”
“That sounds dangerously close to charm.”
“It is the humiliating truth.”
Eleanor smiled against his mouth. Gabriel kissed her.
Their rhythm deepened. She wrapped both legs around him, drawing him closer.
Gabriel’s chest pressed against her breasts, and the friction across her nipples added another thread of pleasure.
He moved one hand beneath her hip, changing the angle.
The next thrust reached deeper. Eleanor gasped. Gabriel stopped.
“Again,” she said.