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She arched into the pressure of his hands, offering herself to him. Reaching behind, she found the dress’s zipper and slid it down. With a determined stroke of her palms against her hips, the dress pooled at her feet, leaving her wearing nothing but her black pumps and a white lace thong.
He had tracked the progression of the dress to the floor, his gaze sliding over her legs as the falling black fabric bared her to him. Liking the way his nostrils flared at the sight of her nakedness, Olivia stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.
Pressure built inside her as she hooked her fingers in the thong, determined to rid herself of it, as well. Gabriel’s hands covered hers, halting her actions.
“This is your first time.” His voice sank into rich, warm tones that did little to equalize her pulse or diminish her hunger. “I want to take this slow.”
“I don’t.”
His lips moved into a predator’s smile, slow and lazy. “You’ll thank me later.”
And with that,
he swept her feet off the floor.
Placing her in the center of the big bed, Gabriel stepped back to rid himself of his clothes. Olivia raised herself on her elbows to better catch the unveiling of all that amazing bronze skin. From the little contact she’d had with his body, she knew he was lean and well-muscled, but nothing prepared her for the chiseled perfection of his torso as his shirt buttons gave way. She goggled at the sheer beauty of his broad shoulders and the sculptured magnificence of his chest.
He raised his eyebrows at her obvious curiosity, his hands going to the belt buckle. As he unfastened the top button, he kicked off his shoes. His pants hit the floor, followed by his socks.
He left on his boxers, but Olivia’s eyes were drawn to the way they bulged in front. Her obvious curiosity and lack of concern turned him on and sped even more blood to his groin. Making this the most amazing night of her life might prove challenging. She certainly wasn’t playing the part of nervous virgin.
He climbed onto the bed.
“What’s this?” His finger grazed a black Chinese character in the hollow beside her hip bone and her stomach muscles twitched.
“A tattoo.”
His elegant British fiancée had a tattoo? And in a very sexy spot, he might add. He frowned.
“What does it say?”
“Hope.” She bent the leg opposite him and braced her foot on the mattress so she could cant her hips toward him. “I got it in college. My one wild act freshman year.”
He imagined her baring her body for the needle, sliding down jeans and underwear. And the thought of another man touching her there made him want to roar in outrage.
His emotions must have shown on his face because she rushed to say, “It was done by a woman.”
His shoulders relaxed at her words. She was his, or would be soon. And he wasn’t the sort of man who cared to share. Living with two brothers had turned him into a possessive madman when anything encroached on what he believed was his.
“In that case, it’s very sexy.”
She grinned at how grudging his words sounded. It continued to both infuriate and delight him that she was not even remotely close to the type of woman he thought he’d chosen to make the next queen of Sherdana and his wife.
He hadn’t anticipated surprises. He’d expected gracefulness and composure, not this wanton creature with her disheveled hair, bare breasts and body marked by the word hope. But now that he had her, she turned him inside out with wanting. She fired his imagination and his blood in the span of a heartbeat. Life would not be dull with her.
Which was the problem. He’d had passion once, crazy desire. It had consumed him and compelled him to think with every part of him but the one that mattered for the future king of Sherdana: his head. He didn’t need a wife who made him feel out of control. He needed someone sensible, who kept him focused on matters of state.
Yet deep down he knew Olivia would do that.
And then, behind the closed doors of their private suite, she would make him forget everything but the sweet rush of carnal pleasure.
The best of both worlds.
What was there to worry about?
Taking her leg in his hand, he caressed upward from her knee to the place where her thighs came together.
“That’s...” Her voice faltered as he slid one finger beneath the scrap of lace hiding her hot, wet center from him. She balled her fists into the coverlet, holding her breath as the tip of his finger grazed her warmth.
