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Irritation spiked in his gut when he thought of how she’d been willing to marry Sanchez with far less to go on.
He stood up and walked over to stand beside her. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. The irritation got stronger.
Before he could stop himself he said, ‘Were you in love with Sanchez? Is that what this is about?’
She turned to look at him and he saw shock on her face. ‘No! How can you even ask that? You really think I would have slept with you if I’d loved him?’
Gabriel didn’t like the way her words soothed something jagged inside him. Jealousy.
She bit her lip. ‘I just... I’m ashamed to admit it now, but I think I found it easier to make a commitment to him because it felt like a sterile business agreement. It’s not as if I’m under any illusions. I know that people like us have to marry for reasons that are far removed from love...but I hadn’t expected that I would...want my husband.’
Gabriel clenched his hand into a fist by his side to avoid reaching out to touch her. She reminded him of a nervy foal. Ready to bolt at the slightest sound.
‘Is that such a bad thing?’
She looked at him and her eyes were dark pools of grey, searching his as if for answers. ‘Maybe not...’
Gabriel took a step closer. ‘Let me show you how it can be, Leo...’
Despite the turmoil in her head and her gut Leonora didn’t move when Gabriel took a step closer. Close enough to touch. Her traitorous body craved his. Part of her wanted him to convince her, show her again how he could transport her. Transform her.
He was going to convince her to acquiesce—and, heaven help her, she was going to let him.
Desperately, at the last moment, she tried to assure herself that she wasn’t saying yes yet. She was just allowing him to...to persuade her. But as his hands cupped her face and his mouth landed on hers she knew she was lying to herself.
She’d already made her decision and it was based on many logical reasons—everything he’d outlined. But it was also based on illogical reasons—reasons that had to do with motivations that came from a far more secret place. A place where she harboured dreams that she’d be a fool to believe a man like Gabriel would be able to fulfil.
Dreams of a happy marriage—of an old couple walking hand in hand together after a long life lived in love...
But he was kissing her now, and all those dreams dissolved under his hot touch.
When her legs no longer felt capable of holding her up Gabriel lifted her against his chest and carried her through the vast and echoing castillo, with the weight of history all around them, into his bedroom.
He undressed her. Undid her belt and pulled it off. Opened the buttons of her dress and pushed it apart, baring her to his gaze before tugging it over her shoulders and down her arms. Then undid her bra, releasing her breasts to his hands and mouth.
He laid her on his bed and pulled down her panties, pushed apart her legs and tortured her with his mouth until she was gripping the sheets and trembling with the effort it took not to shatter. But of course he wouldn’t allow her that mercy, and he pushed her until she came in great shuddering waves, against his mouth.
And then, when she was still pulsating and dizzy from that shattering peak, he wound her up again, demonstrating the ease with which he could manipulate her. He thrust into her, stealing her breath and robbing her rational mind of any last coherent thought. He wound her higher and higher, until she was thrashing under him, begging, pleading for mercy.
And that was the moment when he stopped and said, ‘Look at me, Leo...look at me.’
She forced her blurry vision to take him in, and it was a majestic sight as he reared over her, his body embedded in hers, every muscle straining with the effort it took not to let go. His face was flushed. Eyes burning.
Her whole body was poised on the precipice—one more thrust and she’d be set free. But he wasn’t moving. She raised her hips but he pulled back. She scowled at him and he smiled wickedly. She was laid bare. Exposed. Nowhere to hide. And yet she felt a measure of power, the same power she’d experienced the first night they were together. A very feminine power.
Gabriel’s body trembled against hers with the effort it was taking him to stop moving, over her, in her, and that gave her some solace.
And then he said, ‘What do you want?’
His question got to her, breaking some last vestige of resistance. She suspected he was asking something deeper than just if she wanted release, but her brain was too melted to
study it.
‘You...’ she said brokenly. ‘I want you, Gabriel.’
For a moment he still didn’t move. And then, just when she was about to beg him to release her from the tension, and from his too intense gaze, he finally moved, and with a broken cry she soared into bliss.
It was raw and visceral and she suspected that she’d just acquiesced to everything he’d asked of her without even saying yes.
