“It’s quite all right. I can walk, you know,” she murmured, more amused than annoyed.
“I know. But I enjoy holding you in my arms.”
Gabriel retrieved his key from his pocket and unlocked the front door, ushering her in before following her and locking the door behind them.
“Where’s your butler?” she asked, looking around the empty foyer.
“I have no butler.”
“Footmen? Maids?”
“No. I have no live-in servants in London.”
Her eyes widened at this information. No doubt the situation was unthinkable to her, as used to aristocratic privilege as she was.
“But how do you manage?”
“I have a cook and a maid who come during the day,” he said, stepping behind her. “Here, I’ll take your cloak.”
“But this enormous house—”
He interrupted her with an openmouthed kiss to her neck. He had absolutely no interest in the subject of his domestic affairs at the moment. Not when her creamy flesh presented such a delicious temptation, and her alluring perfume teased his nostrils. Her gasp of surprise mingled with desire was gratifying. At least he wasn’t the only one going mad with desire.
His arms embraced her from behind as he unfastened her cloak with deft fingers and lifted it from her shoulders. He would have turned to hang it on a perch by the front door, but sheleaned back against him, her soft form coming to rest against his hard and aroused body.
A grunt of satisfaction escaped him as his arms tightened around her. The cloak lay undone and forgotten between their bodies as his mouth skated over her neck, nibbling her ear. Her moan spurred him to take more liberties. His hands came up to cup her breasts. Damn her corset and all the layers of clothing that didn’t let him feel the soft flesh underneath. Soon.
Soon he would peel away all the layers of clothing covering her until she lay naked on his bed. The image had his cock weeping with pre-cum.
Forgetting their outerwear, he lifted her in his arms again and marched to the staircase. If he didn’t, he feared he would end up taking her in the entrance hall, and he hadn’t refrained all this time to lose control at the last moment, when he finally had her in his home.
He strode through the darkened corridors he knew by heart. Thank goodness the door to his bedchamber didn’t require a key. He shouldered his way in with her still securely in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. His room was illuminated only by soft moonlight. And cold. Damn it, he would need to set her down to light the fire. Another disadvantage of not having servants.
He thought he had planned everything. He had the sheets changed and sprinkled with lavender water. Had ordered a vase of hothouse flowers to adorn the spartan masculinity of the room. Had even left a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice for this moment. But a fire was too dangerous to leave burning. With a sigh of deep reluctance, he set her down on his bed.
“I’ll just be a moment. Need to light the fire.”
She didn’t reply, but settled on her side, her elbow bent and her face resting on her hand. He felt her gaze on his back as hediscarded his overcoat and set to light the fireplace. At least the fire had been laid out, so he only needed to set it ablaze, stoking it to a conflagration. The room wasn’t freezing, but he suspected it was because of the desire burning between them that rivaled the flames of the fire. For what he intended, he needed the room to be comfortably warm, because soon neither one of them would wear a stitch of clothing.
HANNAH WATCHED GABRIEL’Sfluid movements with undisguised admiration. In the low light of the room, his shoulders and back were a sleek mass of hard muscles and elegant contours. The fire limned his figure with golden light, as if even the elements conspired to lovingly caress him.
He stood and turned to her. Backlit by the flames, his face was in shadows, but not for long. He went around the room, closing the drapes, lighting several lamps and candles. She realized they had been strategically positioned to provide a soft glow. To dispel the deepest shadows but not invade the room with harsh light. The illumination, as with everything else, evoked sensuality.
She didn’t know whether to feel flattered or alarmed at his obvious experience with seduction, but the next second she stopped thinking altogether as he stood in front of the bed, looking straight at her. She shivered.
“Are you cold?” His brow furrowed.
She shook her head. She wasn’t. Her shiver had another cause altogether. His nearness. The intensity of his gaze. Awareness of what they were about to do...
“The room should warm up soon,” he reassured her, regardless. “Would you like something to drink? Champagne, wine, cognac?”
She shook her head again, sitting on the bed. “Only you.”
His gaze sharpened, focused on her lips, while his mouth curved to one side. “Oh, you have me, love. All of me. Shall I undress?”
Her quick nod elicited a warm smile from him.
“Would you like to help?”
