Page 24 of My Darling Rogue
Bending slightly, Gabriel scooped Celia up, inwardly amused when she gave a muffled cry of surprise. She never stopped kissing him, however, not even when he stalked to a chair by the window and gently deposited her in it.
Only when he straightened did their lips finally part. Harsh pants for breaths hung suspended between them as Gabriel stared down at her. He must commit to memory this moment. The moment when this lovely creature gazed at him as if he’d hung the moon and presented her with all the stars in the sky as gifts. He would, too, if it were possible to accomplish such a fanciful notion.
“Gabriel,” Celia’s whisper was one of longing.
It was the first time she’d used his given name. By God, Gabriel decided he would happily give the Devil his soul if it meant hearing her say it again while he was deep inside her.
“Shhh,” he murmured. Looking around, he found the matching footstool and dragged it closer with the toe of his boot. “Let me see the extent of your injury.”
Celia peered up at him, then, with a deep sigh, nodded her consent. She watched as he pulled the low, upholstered stool in front of her and sank upon it. Very carefully, he lifted her leg and placed her foot in his lap. He slipped off her shoe, then after a moment of hesitation, dispensed with the other as well.
His hands traveled over her ankle beneath the mound of her skirts, gently skimming the network of bones and tendons under her silk stockings. When he glanced up at her, she was watching him with an expression of dazed sensuality.
“May I remove your stockings, Celia?”
He promised himself he would stop if she asked, but she simply nodded her head and said, “Yes.”
His hands trembled as they slid up until he reached her knee. A banding of ribbon held the stockings in place, and he expertly dispensed with the flimsy garments before she could change her mind. Pulling her injured ankle up so that her foot rested in his lap, he examined it. The bruises were turning an awful color, but there was relatively little swelling.
Gabriel’s eyes met hers. “You did this trying to get away from me today, isn’t that so?”
There was a flash of rebellion in her dark gaze, but her head moved in a quick jerk of agreement.
For several minutes, he stroked the softness of her skin, marveling over the fineness of it until Celia drifted into a state of drowsy acceptance.
“I’m sorry I stole your horse,” she mumbled, eyes half closed.
“Arion lived up to his name, I think.” Gabriel’s lips tugged upward with amusement at her slight frown of confusion. “He carried you swiftly away from danger, did he not?”
She was silent then said, “That depends on whether or notyouare the danger.”
“You know the answer to that, Celia.”
A slow smile curved her lips. “Then I shall adjust my opinion of Arion’s abilities.”
“You like the danger, my prickly sugarplum.” Gabriel kept her gaze captive as his head bent, and her eyes widened slightly. “Don’t you? Answer me.”
“Yes.” The reluctant murmur seemed torn from her. She bit down on her lip with the admission.
“And this is dangerous for us both, isn’t it?” he asked.
Celia nodded, eyes closing as though that simple act would make it easier to avoid the truth. The scent of her fear, and her arousal, tickled his nose. He was more than likely doomed to hell, but he thought it was the most intoxicating aroma he’d ever encountered. He forced himself not to breathe too deeply of it, certain it would make him do drastic, stupid things.
Gabriel’s lips pressed against the worst of the bruising, soothing any lingering hurt she might have felt. When his mouth gently explored her ankle bone, she moaned. A slow lick of his tongue across the fine bones of the top of her foot pulled a strangled curse from her lips.
“Will you let me show you more, Celia?” His mouth moved over the paper-thin skin stretching across the arch of her foot. He bit down just hard enough, his teeth scoring the sensitive skin until she gasped in mortified pleasure.
“Y-yes,” she surrendered with a low cry.
He hummed his approval against her flesh, his mouth moving higher. From the arch of her foot. To the demarcation of her ankle. Along the smoothness of her calf. His lips were at her knee now, her skirts crushed and shoved upward as his mouth traveled a leisurely path of sin. “There’s my good girl. I’ll show you everything, if you allow me.”
Celia’s palm cupped Gabriel’s cheek, momentarily stealing his attention away from the mysteriously sweet flesh of her inner knees. From his lower position on the footstool, he glanced up at the interruption.
“Who are you, Gabriel Rose? How have you captured me under your spell so easily?”
Celia’s gaze bored into Gabriel’s. Her beautiful dark eyes were shadowed with passion and that twinge of fear he’d sensed before. Indeed, they were nearly black, her lashes casting ebony smudges on her upper cheeks as she watched him. He never wanted her afraid of him, but he could admit her apprehension left him ravenous
“Who am I? I am a man possessed, Celia. A man determined to taste you.”
