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“Its flattering,” he said thickly.
With her cheeks heating, Anastasia held his gaze. “Are you sure you are doing well? If you are feeling regret about the necklace…”
His sharp look cut her off, and she closed her mouth so quickly her teeth clicked. Gabriel cocked an elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbed his forehead with his hands. “I’m not worried about that, Ana; that is not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“I’m touched by your concern for my welfare, but there’s nothing for you to worry about,” he replied, sliding a finger under his bottom lips while he gave her piercing gaze; Anastasia found herself squirming.
“Surely there is something—”
“There is not.”
“I can see by your face that something is bothering you—”
“Anastasia,” his voice dipped in warning—which she blithely ignored.
“Do not lie to me, Gabriel,” she said firmly, huffing out a breath. “I do care how you are, you know.”
His lips flattened as he stood and tugged his jacket off, “Would you accompany to the library for a moment?”
Gabriel’s tone broke no argument, and Anastasia stood while telling Marianne she should wait. The command her aunt had given was lobbied out the window as Anastasia followed him down a corridor and around a bend.
“Gabriel—” she started as they stepped into the room.
The moment the door closed behind them, she was pushed against it, and his mouth landed on hers with blistering ferocity. His hands took hers pinning them over her head while he took her mouth, trapping her with his body while his demanding mouth captured, possessed hers.
His scorching kiss instantly kindled her latent desire into an overwhelming flame. Eagerly, she tangled her tongue with his, pressing into his lean, hard length, wanting to be even closer. The kiss unleashed something inside her that was hard to control, and her body ached for him. Spirals of desire were shooting up her spine, and the lack of air was turning her chest into an inferno.
Gabriel’s darkly masculine flavor permeated her senses, a hot promise of bliss rushing through her blood. That strange throbbing began deep inside again, the flutter of wings beating for release, the trickle of wetness…
He pulled away, voice husky and raw, “Do not question me, Anastasia. Not after I spent half a night tossing and turning, debauched dreams of you turning my blood into fire and longing. I am onedge. A stiff breeze will set me off much less your saucy tongue.”
Her breath hitched, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. The longings from last night flittered through her mind, and she battled with sense and sensation—in the end, sensation won.
“Is your vow to keep me chaste and pure for the man who will marry me still iron-clad?” she asked. “If so, let me go now.”
His eyes darkened. “And if it is not?”
“Then…” she swallowed, “…kiss me, touch me, make me soar; just leave my virtue intact.”
A swear word ripped itself from his lips, and Anastasia found herself on a couch as he angled her body to fit his sideways. Tugging her leg over his hip, Gabriel grasped her behind and kissed her again, sucking on her lips before dropping a line of fiery kisses down her sensitive neck. Capturing the skin over her pulse point, he sucked fiercely.
“Ga-Gabriel—” she gasped. “You’ll leave a mark!”
“Good,” he growled. “Then they will know you aremine.”
Sliding a hand up her thigh, he slipped it under her dress, and all protests fled her mind. “I am going to touch you, sweetheart; do not be quiet; do not bite your lips or swallow your sounds. I want them all.”
“I—”
Then came the sensual glide of his hand over her skin, making a jolt run up her spine. His mouth kept teasing her throat, sucking on her earlobe, teasing her skin mercilessly.
The sweet ache that had trembled low in her belly twice before resurged as did the previous, mortifying wetness. The heated press of his fingers between her thighs, inching to the secret heart of her womanhood had her breath freezing in her lungs.
“If only I could speak to you how I would wish,” he murmured. “Words can be as arousing as a touch.”
Anastasia did not doubt it; his voice in her ear was making her head spin. His fingertips brushed—lightly, gently—along her center, and she gasped while her awareness narrowed to that sweet, pulsing pleasure between her thighs.
