Yes. There. Her. She tasted like coming home. Like safety and comfort tangled with the thrill of a furious gallop. Hungry, relentless, he kissed her, and she sighed and kissed him in return, sliding one hand under his arm and up across his back.
Their tongues danced. He pressed her tight against his bulging erection and covered her breast with one hand. The other grabbed a hold of her skirts and began to inch them higher.
“Gabriel, wait,” she gasped. “You need to understand. I’m negotiating for—” She paused and ran a searching gaze over him.
“For what?”
“For everything,” she blurted. “I want it all. I want to sleep with you and wake up with you. Stay with you. I want to help with your search for Hurley and the jewels. I’ve already made some sketches of him you can use,” she said hurriedly. “I want to know your sister and I want you to know my siblings, too.” Reaching up, she placed a hand on his jaw. “I want to laugh and cry with you. Fight and make up. I want it all. A real family.”
He swallowed. It sounded wonderful—and impossible.
“You have to at least try, Gabriel,” she whispered.
He knew she was right. She wanted him. All the saints knew, he wanted her. There was nothing blocking them except his own doubts and disbeliefs.
They were a damned poor substitute for the woman before him.
She was right. He had to try.
Nodding, he swept her into his embrace again. Claimed her with his mouth. Stole her breath. Opened wider and demanded more, pushing the kiss deeper.
She gave him everything and made demands of her own. Of course, she did. He should have expected nothing less. Her hands ran over him, and his skin heated in their wake. He touched and stroked her, and she copied his urgency. He was sparking, coming alive under her touch and he could not wait to feel her, skin to skin.
A knock sounded on the door. It started to open. Whiddon pulled away and snarled. “Later!”
Eyes wide, Old Alf snapped the door shut again.
Reaching down, Whiddon lifted Charlotte’s skirts and hoisted her to his waist. With a gasp and a laugh, she clutched him tight and wrapped her legs around him. He kissed her again as he carried her across the room. When he reached the door, he pressed her into it and leaned in, holding her there while he turned the latch and buried his face in the curve of her neck.
Their tongues played, crossing like blades as he let her feet drift to the floor. He busied his fingers with the buttons at the back of her gown. When they were all loose, he gently freed her of those flimsy sleeves and eased her bodice down. He made short work of the tapes of her stays—and her glorious bosom was laid bare before him.
He knelt and it felt only proper as he thumbed one nipple into a taut peak and licked the other with short, stabbing strokes of his tongue.
Her breath hitched and her hips gave a short, jerking thrust.
Grinning, he doubled his efforts, sucking and rolling first one nipple, then the other. Her head tilted back. Goosebumps rippled across her flesh. She began to tremble, just a little. “Gabriel?” she whispered.
He let her nipple slide out of his mouth. “Charlotte?”
“There’s another door.” She gave an ineffectual wave of her hand toward the door that connected her rooms.
“So there is.” Mouth quirking, he stood and hoisted her up again, setting out across the room. Every step was delicious torture as her heated core rubbed against his erection. When they reached the door, he locked it and set her on her feet again before sending his hands delving beneath her skirts. His cock throbbed and she jumped when his fingers traveled past her knee to stroke the soft skin of her inner thigh.
“Gabriel?” There was a wealth of questions buried in the syllables of his name.
“Charlotte.” All the answers to every question lived in hers.
“What are you . . ?”
“You asked for everything.” What she’d asked for was all of him. She’d asked him to try. It went against his every instinct, to share so much of himself. He’d felt safe for a long time, behind his wall of irreverent humor, nonchalance, and general disdain. If he didn’t care, it couldn’t hurt. It was the mantra that protected him, made him feel impenetrable and unassailable. And very much alone.
Now she asked him to care. How could he refuse when she did it so easily? So thoroughly? Every time she offered him understanding, or did something thoughtful, he lapped it up and wanted more. She’d pushed and prodded him into a state of craving and the only reason he could even contemplate her request was because she’d always been there, offering what he needed. She’d awakened oceans of hunger in him, undying waves of yearning. But he trusted her. The thought gave him a jolt, but it rang of truth. He wasn’t alone. There were two of them, now. Together, they could brave the onslaught, ride out the storm, find the calm.
“I can’t give you everything all at once, not in one night. But we can find our way together.”
Her gaze softened. She understood all that he meant. “Yes,” she breathed.
“I mean to start right here, with your pleasure, and with mine.”
