chapter Fourteen
Penelope stilled with shock as Gabriel’s lips touched hers. But then he pressed against her mouth with a fierceness that drove out everything in her mind and everything in her heart.
Everything but him.
She wanted nothing more than to lose herself to the distraction he offered. She grasped at his shoulders, running her hands over their broad, muscled length. But the embrace didn’t bring him close enough. Not nearly close enough. So she clutched at his neck and rose up on her toes, trying to pull herself into him.
Gabriel groaned, a raw sound that sent a thrill skittering down her spine. It only intensified when he tightened his arms around her, bringing her tight and flush against his chest—right where she wanted to be.
But she knew the delicious contact wouldn’t suffice for long. Even as her breasts flattened against his hard planes, hot need curled through her. It rose up from her core in twisting tendrils, weaving through her like hungry vines, pulling and stretching within her.
Hands slid into her hair. His large palm gripped her head, tilting it so that their mouths met at a slightly different angle. His tongue slid into her then and she moaned around it, accepting it. Craving it—and more.
Still clutching his neck, she rose a little higher . . . just enough to rock her hips against his, tearing a ragged moan from them both. Encouraged, she rolled her hips in a slow circle against his hard arousal as the vines of need stretched tighter. And tighter still when his hands left her hair to grasp her beneath her hips and drag her over him again.
She pulled her mouth away from his. “I need you.” And she did. Needed to remember what it was like to lose herself to desire. Needed to forget the ache of guilt that never seemed to leave her. Needed to feel something—anything but the pain that pierced her heart. She loosened her grip on his neck and ran her fingers down his arms, over the hands that kneaded her hips so erotically. She tugged his hands into hers and stepped backward, pulling him with her. “Come.”
She gave him no time to protest, leading him unerringly to her chamber door. Bless Liliana for putting them on the top floor rather than in the family wing. She’d done so because their adjoining bedrooms opened onto the long gallery, and she knew Penelope would wish to utilize the gallery for exercise should the rains return. But all Penelope could think of at this moment was that it meant her bedroom, and the mindless bliss she was about to find in it, was only steps away.
Keeping one of his hands firmly in hers, she pivoted to fumble with the doorknob with her other. As the door creaked open enough for them to squeeze through, she tugged him inside.
Once the door was safely closed behind them, she turned to face him again. His chest rose and fell in choppy, heaving pants and his golden brown eyes glowed with heat. He leaned back against the door as if he needed it to brace him. He looked dark and delicious and entirely too clothed. He also looked aroused and wild . . . and hesitant.
Her stomach fluttered anxiously. She didn’t want him to come to his senses. She couldn’t bear it if he did. She stepped into him once more, pressing herself against him from shoulders to toes, sliding her arms around his neck to cup his face. “Please, Gabriel. Don’t think,” she said, placing light kisses against his jaw, under his chin until she was thwarted by his cravat. Then she trailed her lips back up to whisper against his mouth, “Please. Just take me.”
Her plea snapped whatever restraint he was holding on to, and Penelope gloried as he spun with her in his arms and pinned her against the door. His lips took hers in a voracious kiss as he dipped his knees and then rose again, dragging his body against hers in a slow, hot slide. His chest scraped along her breasts, his abdomen bumped her own, and his arousal burned against her mons. Even through both layers of their clothes, the heat between them was enough to make her swoon. Were she not pinned between his body and the door, she was certain she’d be in a puddle on the floor.
“Gabriel,” she gasped, before his name turned into a groan. His mouth had moved to her ear, and his teeth nipped at the delicate lobe before his tongue swiped out to soothe it.
She slid her hands down his chest and pulled at his shirttails. She wanted to tug the garment over his head, but she didn’t wish to wait that long to touch his skin, so she slipped her palms under the fabric and ran them over the ridges of his stomach. His muscles leapt beneath her touch, and he sucked in a breath. But then his mouth robbed her of breath when it slid down her neck to bite gently where her neck met her shoulder.
She could stand it no longer. She slipped her hand past his waistband and tore at the buttons of his fall. As soon as she got them open wide enough, she shoved his trousers past his hips and down to his knees. Gabriel hissed as he sprang free, a sound Penelope registered with wicked delight even as she used her foot to finish undressing him, pushing his trousers down around his boots.
“Pen,” he rasped, his breathing gone ragged. A pleased smile spread across her face at seeing him so undone. So close to taking her.
And then he spun her in the cage of his arms, tearing at her laces. A few tugs and her bodice sagged a little. His knuckles scraped against her back as he wrestled with the spiral lacing. As soon as she was able, she shrugged the gown off of her shoulders, allowing it to slip down to her waist, where she helped it the rest of the way off.
“Good God,” Gabriel muttered from behind her. She imagined how she must look, her back cinched tight in her stays, her flared hips and bottom bared to his gaze. She felt amazingly wanton and she wanted him to feel the same. She pressed herself backward into him.
It worked better than she’d hoped. Gabriel made a low growl in his throat and slammed her against the door, bracing his hands on either side of her. His hard body covered hers, his clothed chest to her clothed back, his bare loins to her naked bottom. His hard erection burned between her thighs, tantalizingly close to where she needed him. Her temperature spiked, as did her desire. She laid her cheek against the cool wood, sighing against it. Then she rolled her hips again.
“Ah,” he moaned as his mouth opened on the back of her neck. She shuddered violently as he slid his length against her, rubbing along her slickness with firm slides that tantalized but could never satisfy. She burned with her need, but after several sliding thrusts, she feared he would never come inside her.
Just when she thought she could stand it no longer, he turned her to face him again. As she wrapped her arms around his neck once more, he yanked her right leg off of the floor and wrapped it around his hip. She let go of his neck with her left hand and moved it down his body to grasp his swollen shaft. It slid against her palm, thick and heavy and hot. Something clenched within her, knowing she was so close to having him now, to satisfying the gnawing need that no longer lay dormant inside her.
It had been so long since she’d felt this rush of desire. She’d had many offers over the past two years, but none that had even tempted her.
Well, she was more than tempted now. Somehow, Gabriel had broken through the dark shell she’d been hiding in, to the very heart of her. She wasn’t certain how or why or even what it meant. She only knew that what she felt for him in this moment was more than just physical need. It was a deep, desperate longing that frightened her—though not enough to stop her from having him. Now. She rubbed the head of him against the center of her pleasure, and a shiver of sparks rippled through her before she parted her blond curls and poised him at her entrance. “Come to me, Gabriel,” she pleaded.
“Pen,” he moaned before his lips captured hers. His fingers dug into her hips as he lifted her, pulling her other foot off of the floor and encouraging her to wrap that thigh around him, too. As her heel dug into his muscled backside, he thrust up into her.
Yes! she wanted to cry, but she hadn’t the breath for that. Instead, she thrust her tongue into his mouth, tangling with his as he buried himself in her heat again.
Lord, she needed this. She clutched Gabriel to her and moved her hips frantically, hoping he would grasp what she wanted. It took only a few hard thrusts to know that he understood completely. He filled her with rough, merciless strokes that fed the fire building inside of her. It was everything she’d hoped for—better even. When he jerked his mouth from hers so he could breathe, she simply laid her head back against the door and reveled in the jarring slam of his body into hers as her entire body tightened and stretched, reaching and striving for the explosion she knew was to come.
And then it was there, bursting upon her with a suddenness that made her cry out with the intensity of it. Her orgasm must have triggered his, because Gabriel drove into her one, two, three more times before pulling her hips hard against his and emptying himself within her pulsing heat.
Gradually, their moans gave way to heavy breaths as the sweat on her skin cooled. She was still pinned to the door by his pelvis, and he was still intimately lodged within her, though he’d softened. She had the fleeting thought that she would like to stay here, joined with him forever. But all too soon, her limbs began to tremble with strain.
And her mind began to think again. Oh God . . . what had she done? She loosened her thighs’ grip on Gabriel’s hips and lowered her legs to the floor. As he slipped from her, she felt an awful pang of loss that alarmed her further still.
She tried to pull back from his embrace but he wouldn’t allow it, tightening his arms around her to where she had little choice but to tuck her face against his shirt. She couldn’t help but breathe him in, and despite the knowledge that she should never have done any of this, she savored the moment.
“I’m sorry, Pen,” he murmured against her hair.
She lifted her cheek from his chest and looked up at him in genuine confusion.
A muscle ticced in his jaw. “That isn’t how I imagined making love to you for our first time. You deserve better than a rough tumble against a wall.”
“It was a door, actually,” she blurted inanely.
She felt, rather than heard, his grunt.
Her eyes roved his strong brow, his defined cheekbones and tapered jaw, which was clenched tight with concerned regret. He had nothing to feel bad about. Whereas she . . .
Shame filled her. He’d said “first time,” as if he hoped—or even expected—there would be more. And why wouldn’t he? He’d as much as told her he harbored deep feelings for her that first day at Vickering Place, even though he hadn’t known it was really her he was confessing them to. That made her selfish lapse of good sense all the worse. She had no business—none—crossing the lines of intimacy as she had.
Penelope tucked her head back against his chest, unable even to look at him as she said, “No, I’m sorry, Gabriel.”
He huffed beneath her cheek. “Why?”
Why? So many things were wrong with what she’d just done. “I never should have kissed you. Again,” she added, given she’d kissed him in the carriage the other day as well. Goodness. Perhaps Mr. Allen had been right about her after all.
Gabriel laughed softly, the sound a quiet rumble beneath her ear. “I kissed you this time, if you remember.”
She did. Her toes curled with the memory, in fact. “Yes, but I should have pulled away. Don’t you see?” She lifted her head to look up into his face. “In our time together, you have made yourself vulnerable to me, for your treatment’s sake. It is unconscionable that I took advantage of you and—”
His soft rumble turned to true laughter then. “Took advantage of me? Pen . . .” He shook his head and his eyes crinkled as he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Making love to you is the best thing that has happened to me in—well, perhaps ever.”
Her heart tripped even as a new guilt joined her shame. “You may think that now, but I’ve violated a trust between us. Feelings can easily be confused during the type of treatment we’ve been attempting and—” Her stomach lurched at her next thought. “God,” she croaked. “I will never forgive myself if my mistake undoes any of the progress you’ve made.”
Gabriel’s hands moved up to frame her face. “Shhh,” he said, stroking her gently. “This—what happened between us just now—is not a mistake. Nor are my feelings confused. Madness aside, I know my own mind.”
She shook her head in denial.
He just smiled tenderly at her. “I think I can understand where your worry might be justified if I were just some stranger you’d taken on for treatment. But, Pen . . .” His brow furrowed and his lips twisted, as if he struggled with how to phrase what he wanted to say. Then his face smoothed. “You asked me once why I was able to dance at your wedding and why I was able to attend other balls throughout our acquaintance without you sensing my struggles.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? It was because of you.
“You kept my darkness at bay. When my anxiety would threaten, you always seemed to sense when I could do with a diversion—be it a witty remark or an irreverent observation. And whenever I would get near a dance floor and my head would swim and my breath would tighten and my heart would pound, all I had to do was look at you and everything would ease. You were my talisman long before you ever agreed to treat me, Pen. You always have been.”
She stopped breathing as her heart squeezed. His talisman?
“What happened between us just now only strengthens that for me, so don’t waste another moment fretting it. Besides . . .” His tender smile turned decidedly wicked, which sent a fresh lick of heat through her middle. “After being in your arms, I feel as if I could take on the world. I think you should kiss me again. Perhaps I will then associate this feeling with your lips so that whenever I need to”—he dipped his head and pressed a quick kiss upon her mouth—“all I have to do is steal a kiss to remember exactly how powerful I feel right now. That will do more to heal me than all of the talk in the world, and I daresay it might be good for you, too.”
And he took her lips again. She let him. Because despite her lingering worries, right now she felt alive. And powerful, too. And hopeful, not only for him but for herself. She didn’t want that feeling to end until it absolutely had to.
She broke from the kiss to turn once again in his arms, her decision made. “Help me out of my stays,” she commanded, her voice gone husky.
He hesitated for a moment, as if not believing she meant to let him touch her again, but then his fingers flew over her lacings, pulling them free of their holes. When he’d finished, she turned ever so slowly, allowing him to peel the stays from her body. When she pulled her chemise over her head, it left her standing only in her stockings and slippers.
Gabriel’s eyes roamed over her hungrily, seeming to singe her skin wherever his gaze lingered. She reached out to untie his cravat, which while decidedly askew, was still knotted. For that matter, his trousers were still puddled around his ankles because the man still wore his boots. Penelope couldn’t stifle a laugh.
Gabriel glanced down at himself, then back at her, the wry half grin she was beginning to adore lifting his lips. “A ridiculous pair we make,” he said. “You in only your stockings and garters and me mostly dressed.”
“I would say we made a perfectly pleasurable pairing,” she teased, enjoying the flash of heat in his eyes. “But I do think, for comparison’s sake, we should both be naked, don’t you?”
With that, she tugged at his cravat again. Together they managed to rid each other of their remaining attire, issuing small kisses or touches as they went about the pleasurable task. Hovering over each small caress were questions and doubts, almost as if they hung in the air between them: Was she making a terrible mistake becoming Gabriel’s lover? Would she end up harming him? Or was he correct, that strengthening their bond in this way might benefit them both?
She couldn’t know. She only knew that this felt more right than anything she’d done in years.
When they were both completely bare, Penelope stretched up to kiss Gabriel once again. Dear Lord, it was ever so much better to flatten her body against his when nothing lay between them. His body was well developed. Taut skin, covered with a light dusting of hair, stretched over lean muscle. When he moved against her, gooseflesh prickled her skin—not in a cold way, but in warm, pleasurable shivers as his body brushed hers.
He let her take his lips once . . . twice . . . as he sent his hands skimming over her back, stroking lower over her bottom and then back up again. But just as she was about to deepen her kiss, he moved to tuck his face into her neck as his arms tightened around her.
“Wait, Pen,” he said, though at least his breathing was as labored as hers. “Damn me for a fool for saying this, but . . .” He pulled back so that he could see her face. His body vibrated with leashed tension. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
He could be asking so many things with that seemingly innocent question—things about them, things about the future. Whatever he meant, his concern for her feelings filled her heart with warmth. Well, she was certain of only one thing: that she wanted this—him—right now. And that was all that mattered. She framed his face, lightly running her fingers over his austere features as she pulled his face down to whisper, “Yes,” against his lips before she captured his mouth with her own.
Gabriel felt the dizzying rush of desire flood him, Penelope having broken through the floodgates he’d erected with that one breathy word—yes.
Some small distant part of him was still slightly troubled, but it was drowned by the sea of undiluted pleasure coursing through him. Whatever providence had conspired to make Penelope his, if even for a moment, he would not tempt it with worries.
But he would, by God, take her properly in a bed. He ran his hand down her arm and caught her wrist, tugging her gently toward it. She came willingly, even allowing him to lift her body and place her seated on the edge of the bed, although she’d gripped his head and refused to relinquish his tongue in the process.
Not that he wished to take it back from her. Ever.
His hands slid to her knees, and he spread them just enough to step between them. Her warm, silky thighs closed around his hips as they held each other there for a moment, mouths blending and merging, her seated on the tall bed and he standing. Her arms were thrown around his neck, her hands moving in his hair in strokes that were both relaxing and arousing. His own arms were wrapped around her waist, leaving his fingers free to caress her back and hips at will.
But her delving kisses were too much, too erotic. Already lust poured through him, and he’d be damned if he would lose his control and take her quickly once again. He disengaged from her questing lips and slid one hand up to her nape, dropping his mouth to her neck and finding her rapid pulse with his tongue.
It fluttered frantically beneath her skin, a tempo matched by his own. He had to find a way to slow them both down. He was determined to savor her this time, as she’d be a fool to ever let him into her bed again.
Sweet Penelope, his at last. He leaned back to simply take in the sight of her, burning it to his memory. Her form leaned more to the fit than the voluptuous, though while her breasts were not ample, he thought them perfect. Their tips were pale and soft and pink, and he imagined they tasted like heaven. He decided to find out.
He slipped a hand beneath one of her bare breasts, enjoying the weight of it in his palm. He lifted it just enough to meet his descending mouth and opened to suckle her gently.
A small gasp reached his ear even as her nipple beaded against his tongue. Fire shot through him at this tangible taste of her desire. She was sensitive there, he realized, and so he pressed his tongue more roughly over the tight little bud. Penelope quivered in his arms, encouraging him all the more. He brought his other hand to her neglected breast, kneading and teasing it to let it know it was next on his list of pleasurable experiences.
As he continued to tease her breasts, her hands moved upon him. At first they clenched in his hair, pressing his mouth tighter to her chest as his tongue traced circles on her heated skin. But then he felt a hand sliding down his side, slipping between them. Slender fingers curled around his straining erection, and he froze with pleasure, his groan muffled by her breast.
A ragged sound escaped him as she pressed a firm stroke down his length, the skin of her palm dragging along his shaft with a friction that threatened his best intentions. He pulled himself back from her and stepped away, out of reach of her eager hands. “Christ, Pen.” He laughed. “If you keep touching me like that, it will all be over too soon.”
Her head tilted as her unfocused gaze settled on him with . . . confusion? “Isn’t that . . . ?” Her brow furrowed as she struggled to verbalize her thoughts. “Don’t you want . . . ?” she tried again, unsuccessfully.
Understanding washed over him, cooling his ardor just enough for him to be able to think properly.
He’d been a little shocked, he had to admit, by her uninhibited response to him, first in the carriage and then a few moments ago. No, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t so much her unconstrained sensuality that had surprised him. She’d been married before and obviously enjoyed the act of love. It was the speed with which she gained it.
And he realized something he should have seen before. She didn’t realize that lovemaking could be slow and sensual. It made perfect sense. Her husband had possessed a manic energy in everything that he did. That had to have spilled over into their bedchamber, resulting in quick, vigorous couplings. Penelope was like a Thoroughbred, trained to race for her pleasure the moment the gates opened.
God, he should have seen it before. But she’d driven him so very wild with lust that he’d missed the signs.
He watched her now, her lithe body breathing heavily, her nipples hard and straining, her body humming with an energy he sensed with an answering part of himself—one he ruthlessly tamped as the tantalizing possibilities unfolded before him.
Who knew what lay ahead of them . . . him, her. Who knew if he would ever be whole enough to go after what he wanted—a life with her. But he did know one thing. In this, at least, he had something to offer. He could teach her what pleasure truly was and open her mind to everything she could have in that realm.
“I very much do want,” he assured her. “However, all I want you to do is to relax and let me touch you.”
A delicate vee appeared between her brows, and the cloud of passion cleared a bit in her gaze. “I’m sorry?”
“Just trust me,” he said as he stepped back into the cradle of her thighs. He grasped her wrist when she reached for his manhood once again and moved her hand gently behind her. “I get to touch you,” he reminded her. “Not the other way around.”
Darling Pen tugged her lower lip between her teeth, but she nodded slowly in understanding.
Lust rocketed through him. If she only understood what he meant to do . . . He was going to take this slowly, draw out every bit of pleasure in her body until she was writhing with it. All of this before he took her. If this were the only time he got this chance, he intended for her to remember it. He raised his hand to stroke her face.
Penelope trembled at Gabriel’s light touch. There was a determined heat in his eyes that warmed her whole center. She had to clench her hands into fists to obey his dictate not to touch. Lord, how she wanted to pull him into her so he could fulfill her rising need.
But it was clear he had something else in mind entirely. He stroked the curve of her cheek with a single fingertip. Her every nerve was so sensitized with desire that she felt even that tiny stroke deep in her middle. Her breath sped as he lifted her chin, tilting her head back for his kiss.
Yes, she thought, opening for him even as she tried to press her own tongue into his. He gently pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and she understood she wasn’t even to touch him with her mouth. Penelope wanted to growl with frustration, but she ceased her foray.
Gabriel’s tongue slowed, coaxed. The tip brushed her teeth, clipped in to explore the soft lining of her cheek, the underside of her tongue, the sensitive roof of her mouth. Slow, languorous kisses that made her light-headed while at the same time ratcheted up the desire within her.
She couldn’t resist pulling his hands to her breasts in a bid to get him to touch her again. He complied but with such infuriating slowness that she arched against him with frustrated longing.
“Shhh, my love,” he crooned against her. “Be patient. I promise you it will be worth it in the end.”
Penelope groaned. Now, what did he mean by that? At this rate, she’d never last until the end.
He continued to take her mouth in long kisses that drew a strange pleasure up from her mons straight through to her mouth . . . drugging, it was. Sensuously wicked. His hands slid into her hair, massaging and caressing in a way that both soothed and set her further on edge. A harsh breath escaped him, and she knew that despite his restraint, he was closer to that same edge than he let on.
She could push him over it, she knew. She’d proven that. He might be angry with her after, but at least it would quench this burning inside. She could beg forgiveness later.
And yet . . . the slow boiling that built within her intrigued her. A part of her yearned to know exactly what would be worth the wait. So she kept her hands clenched by her sides.
His hands moved to her breasts again, and Penelope almost cried out with the sharp pleasure of it. Who knew those small mounds could bring her such delight? And then the devil bit down lightly on her hardened nipple, sending a bolt of electricity shooting straight to her core. She couldn’t resist clutching at him then, holding his head to her breast as he alternated suckling, nipping and tonguing her. She whimpered with pleasure, writhing in his arms.
“Lie back, love,” he whispered.
Oh, thank goodness. He would come to her now, fill her with the powerful thrusts that would drive her to completion. She dropped back to the coverlet with profound relief.
He didn’t join her on the bed, but rather tugged at her hips and slid her to the very edge of the mattress. Odd positioning, but she didn’t care if he wanted to stand, as long as he took her now.
But instead of stepping between her thighs, he spread them wider and dropped to his knees on the floor. She raised her head, but he shushed her as his fingers found her wetness and stroked the plump, silken flesh.
Her body jerked and sizzled with longing, arching off of the bed as he found the tender peak of her sex with his questing fingers. He rubbed gently, circling, tugging. “Oh!” she gasped as sensation pulled in from the rest of her body to center there.
Then he brushed the swollen bud with his thumb as he deftly slid two fingers inside of her. The sensation was so close . . . so close to what she wanted but not nearly enough. She tossed her head from side to side as her breath shortened further.
“You’re torturing me,” she accused on a groan.
“Not yet,” he breathed, and the very sound sent gooseflesh prickling over her flushed skin.
His fingers found a rhythm counterpoint to his circling thumb, and all Penelope could do was twist and writhe as the tension within her mounted. Despite his pressing digits, she felt empty inside. Why would he not just take her?
And then a shocking jolt of desire speared her as his tongue took the place of his thumb. “Gabriel,” she cried out as his mouth took her in a way she’d never before experienced. Her hands clenched and unclenched, twisting the counterpane mercilessly as he lashed her with his tongue—flat, hard strokes against her *oris—and then replaced his fingers to delve inside her.
Penelope trembled as pleasure spiraled upward from her middle, pulling her into an arching tightness like an invisible string that threatened to snap and send her spinning. Gabriel was no longer touching her gently, but driving her toward release with relentless licks and strokes.
She screamed when she came, the sound wrenching from her as indeed she spun with the dizzying pleasure. It was like nothing she’d felt before. His mouth stayed on her, drawing every bit of it from her before he finally released her.
As her breathing subsided enough to speak, she admitted, “You were right. It was worth it.”
Gabriel’s husky chuckle vibrated against her skin as he placed a kiss against her inner thigh. “Oh, Pen, that was just the beginning.”
Her breath caught in her chest as he rose, wondering how anything could possibly be better than that. But Gabriel spent the next hours answering that question decisively. By the time he took his own pleasure within her, there wasn’t a place on her body that he hadn’t worshipped with his hands and mouth. She’d peaked twice more by the time he entered her, and even then, it was with slow, steady thrusts that wrung even more pleasure from her exhausted flesh.
Who knew it could be like this? she wondered more than once during their lovemaking. Part of her whispered that it was more than just technique, but she didn’t want to think about that. All she knew was that after making love to Gabriel, she would never be the same again.
And she didn’t want to think about that, either.