Page 89 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
He stared at her.
She deflated a little. “You don’t like the idea?”
“I . . . I think it’s a grand idea.” Suddenly he swooped at her and swept her up into his arms. He turned her in circles until she laughed and grew dizzy. “I thinkyouare grand.”
He plopped down on the settee, carrying her with him. “Every time I start to worry, or to entertain doubts and fears, there you are. Reaching for me, pulling me out, propping me up.”
She squirmed until she was straddling him. Taking his face between her hands, she kissed him fiercely. “That is because you are always racing to rescue everyone else. It’s my job to rescue you.”
He ran a finger over her bottom lip, but it was the vulnerability in his eyes that speared her to the core. “Don’t ever stop,” he whispered.
Her heart swelled. She kissed him again, slowly this time, trying to convey everything he made her feel. He was so large beneath her, all firm, masculine strength. She felt small and feminine, perched atop him, but also powerful with the knowledge that he felt the same desire and wrenching hunger that wracked her. She sank her fingers into his thick, dark hair and could not suppress a shiver of satisfaction.
His tongue teased hers, deepening the kiss slowly, degree by hot and voluptuous degree. The sweet ache of yearning spooled through her. She pulled away, pressing soft kisses along his jaw. Her position shifted and he groaned as she moved against the hard ridge between her thighs. He buried his face in her bodice and his fingers went to her buttons.
“Take me upstairs,” she whispered.
“Shut the door, instead,” he retorted. He gave an experimental bounce on the settee. “Are you sure this furniture was here before? I don’t recall it being so soft and inviting.” His gaze twinkled wickedly. “There is plenty of room here for what I have in mind.”
“Gabriel!” She was scandalized.
His teeth grazed her earlobe and her head fell to the side.
“We cannot,” she insisted.
He sighed in resignation. “Very well.” He shifted her position and stood, cradling her in his arms once more.
She protested as he headed for the door. “Gabriel! Put me down. The servants will see!”
“They will,” he agreed. “If I put you down, then one of them will approach, needing something urgently from you, or perhaps from me. But if I carry you up the stairs, intent on having my wicked way with you, none of them will dare to interrupt us.”
“Well, then.” She tightened her grip around his neck. “If you put it that way.”
Still, she buried her face in his neck as they went, to keep from glimpsing any shocked faces, but also to keep him from witnessing all that she was feeling right now.
It seemed a very different view, from his arms. She had worked to bring this about—this intimacy and growing trust. This sharing of sorrow and worry, but also laughter. She breathed in the wonderful scent of him, thinking that there was so much she couldn’t have known. It was so much better, so muchmore, than she’d expected. She felt new and raw—and so unutterably grateful for the new life they were building and becoming together.
He carried her to his rooms and locked the doors before he tossed her on the bed. They quickly undressed each other—they were growing skilled at such things. And then he was stretched out on top of her. She reveled in the excitement of his weight pressing her down, of the feel of his hard body and masculine flesh pressing against her. The hair on his chest felt crisp against her nipples, teasing them and sending jolts of heat and desire shooting to her womb.
His mouth closed over a nipple and his fingers were at his core, stroking and gliding against her, where she was already slick with heat and moisture.
He grinned down at her. “Come now, Charlotte, don’t you wish to finish what you started downstairs?”
She gazed blankly up at him.
He rolled over, carrying her with him until she straddled him. She blinked. Her legs were spread wide over his thighs, leaving her open and exposed. Her head fell back as he reached his hand down to touch her. Her breathing quickened. His fingers danced over her, slid inside of her, and withdrew to revolve slowly around her hidden peak.
She sucked in a breath, taut with anticipation. He teased her, stroking and circling, but always gentling or pulling back when her body threatened to tumble over the edge.
“Gabriel, please,” she breathed.
He rose to kiss her hard, then lay back and pulled her higher up along his body. “Take what you want, Charlotte. Take me inside of you.”
His manhood was hard against her. He moved, angling until the broad head of his erection pressed against her hot, aching entrance.
She was wild with wanting him. Arching her back, she took him in. “Yes,” she moaned, easing further and further still, until he was completely seated inside her.
He groaned. Silently, she echoed the sound in her head. She was so full. The pressure felt different this way. Higher. Deeper. More. She could feel her inner channel stretching and throbbing against the tightness.
