“You’ll be gentle,” Pandora coaxed, unfastening buttons, pushing her hands inside his clothes. “You do everything, and I’ll lie still. You won’t hurt me. You see, this is the perfect way to keep me in bed.”
He swore, desperately trying to restrain himself, but she could feel the heat rising in him, his resistance crumbling. She moved lower on the bed, her limbs sliding beneath his, and he gasped. With a primitive sound, he gripped the bodice of her nightdress and ripped it down the front. His head lowered over her breasts, his mouth closing over a nipple and pulling it inside, his tongue stroking and circling. Dreamily she lifted her hands to his head and slid them into his beautiful hair, sifting gold and amber through her fingers. He moved to her other breast, tugging rhythmically while his hands coasted over her body.
Oh, he was good at this, his touch sensitive and knowing, spreading thrills across her skin like a net of sparks. He touched between her legs, playing sweetly, his fingers sliding in with such teasing slowness that she moaned and arched in demand. The exquisite deep caress withdrew. He worked his hands beneath her bottom and tilted her upward, holding her like a chalice as he searched with his mouth. She sobbed, writhing softly as he lavished her with textures of silk, velvet, liquid fire, and gently rasping bristle. The muscles of her thighs contracted and relaxed helplessly, her body straining to take in sensation, while heat danced in her stomach and groin. She felt the tip of his tongue against the agonizingly sensitive peak of her sex, darting, tickling, bringing the rising pleasure to the edge of culmination.
There had been times when he’d kept her like this for hours, tormenting her with just enough stimulation to sustain the excitement, and delaying release until she begged for mercy. But now, to her vast relief, he didn’t make her wait. She quivered in ecstasy while his hands gripped her bottom and lifted it more firmly against his mouth.
She lay relaxed in the afterglow, purring as his body covered hers. He nudged in slowly, the invasion satisfyingly hard and thick. Braced above her on his elbows, he held inside her without moving, his passion-drowsed eyes staring down into hers. She felt how taut and heavy his body was, how ready he was for completion. But he remained still, catching his breath whenever her inner muscles clamped on him.
“Tell me again,” he eventually whispered, his eyes brilliant in the heightened color of his face.
“I love you,” she said, and pulled his head down to hers. She felt his deep shudder as the release was pulled from him, the tide drawing back and rushing forward in abandoned waves.
Although the subject of Pandora’s board game business was not brought up again that night, she knew that Gabriel wouldn’t stand in the way when she finally decided to resume her work. He wouldn’t like her outside interests, would no doubt air his opinions about them, but he would gradually come to understand that the more he accepted her freedom, the easier it was for her to be close to him.
They were both aware that she meant too much for him to risk losing her affection. But she would never use his love as a whip hand over his head. Their marriage would be a partnership, just like their waltzing . . . not perfect, not always graceful, but they would find their way together.
Gabriel slept in her bed that night, and awakened the next morning looking much more like his usual self. He was all along her back, his long legs drawn up beneath hers, an arm slung loosely across her waist. She wriggled slightly in enjoyment. Reaching up, she searched for the beard-roughened texture of his jaw, and felt his lips press against her fingers.
“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice muffled.
“Quite well.” Her adventurous hand crept downward, insinuating between their bodies until she had gripped the hard length of him, smooth hot velvet against her palm. “But just to be sure . . . you should take my temperature.”
He chuckled and pried her hand away, rolling to the side of the bed. “Don’t start that again, vixen. We have things to do today.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She watched as he went to don a jacquard robe. “I’ll be exceedingly busy. First I’ll eat toast and then I’m planning to look at the wall for a while. After that, just for some variety, I’ll probably lie back on pillows and stare at the ceiling—”
“What would you say to receiving a visitor?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Ransom, the detective. He’s wanted to question you ever since you returned from the clinic, but I told him to wait until you were well enough.”
“Oh.” Pandora had mixed feelings, knowing the detective would ask her about her visit to the printer’s works, as well as the night she was stabbed, and she wasn’t exactly eager to relive either of those memories. On the other hand, if she could help in seeing that justice was served—and secure her own safety in the bargain—it would be worthwhile. Besides, it would be something to do. “Tell him to visit at his convenience,” she said. “My schedule is quite flexible, other than my midmorning blancmange, which cannot be interrupted for any reason.”
Chapter 24