Her sigh, her gasp, the hot, needy heat of her as she moved against him, whimpering, proved that thought wrong.
And all exit routes were gone. There was only her. There was only this. He moved the flimsy underwear out of his way, teased her with his hand while the other tugged at the strap of her bra. All the while watching her eyes, the way they swam into nothing but golden heat. The way her lips parted, her breath panted, moaned.
He pulled the bra fabric away, then fixed his mouth to one tight nipple. She cried out, tensing around him, tangling her hands in his hair. Vibrating through the climax he felt ripple through her, while his body raged with unspent want.
She tugged his hair so he looked up at her. She met his gaze, her eyes cloudy with desire, but direct and fierce. So damn fierce. “I’m choosing this. You’re choosing this. Take me, Gabriel. Before you leave me, my God, take me.”
Whatever last grasp on control he had was obliterated.Leave. He had to leave, but by God, he had to have her first. Just as she said.
He jerked the bra all the way down, and she laughed in breathless excitement. He didn’t bother to finesse her underwear off, just ripped it out of the way.
Then his mouth was on hers. Nothing holding him back. Only that desperate want that would be his undoing and his end. He tasted, devoured, glutted himself on the hot, delicious contours of her mouth.
She fumbled with his clothes, unbuttoning maybe two buttons before she just yanked, sending buttons flying. Then her small, slender hands were on his bare skin and he growled into her mouth, plunging his fingers into the wet, willing heat of her once more.
She moaned, wild and free. There was no timidity. Just giving. Just that same wild storm—heat and a loss of control and the desperate pull to destroy.
She would destroy him, he had no doubt, and with her body bared to him, golden and beautiful, he reveled in the destruction, in her. His hands roamed her body, tending to fires until she begged, pleaded, arched.
She worked to undo his pants, until he shoved her hands away and freed the painfully desperate erection himself. Then he lowered her onto the plush carpet beneath them, and in the same move entered the welcome heat of Evelyne. She came apart around him in one quick thrust, a glorious scream of pleasure as she pushed against him.
He gritted his teeth against the swamp of pleasure. Too much and not enough. He needed more. So much more. All.
All, all, all.
He moved inside her and she moved with him. She chanted his name, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, demanding more. Demanding thatall.
It was a storm. Perhaps it would destroy, but in the throes of it, Gabriel only felt the power, the pleasure. The rightness of plunging into her, again and again and again.
She moved against him, a wild, wanton mythical creature, too beautiful to believe she existed. She consumed him, until he felt like he was but a wave, crashing again and again against the rocky surf himself. Maybe they were nothing but wind and sea, crashing against each other, never meant to do anything but.
And he crashed into her one last time, a glorious release of everything. Disaster. Absolute glorious disaster.
When he could see again, he looked down at her. Her smile was smug and her eyes half closed, like she would just drift away into sleep, here on the living room floor in the middle of the afternoon.
But it was not over. It could not be over, because once it was…
He refused to think past that. He swept her up into his arms. He did not recognize what fueled him, what moved through him with her warm body tucked against his. It had a different tenor to everything he’d felt before, and yet he knew it was just as—if not more—destructive. It would be obsession, it would be vengeance, it would destroy.
In the moment, he wanted all that destruction. He carried her upstairs and all the way to her room. He laid her on her bed, and nothing about the smug satisfaction on her face changed him. She regarded him under dark lashes.
He stood on the side of the bed, rational thought trying to get its grip on him again. But she had other plans.
“Do you want to know what I did while you weren’t here?” she asked him, sultry and full of promise, her intent whispering through his brain so that all the warnings went silent.
She lay naked on her bed, stretched out and magical. Maybe she was a witch casting a spell on him. The spell was better than anything he’d ever experienced.
“I touched myself and wished it was you.”
His body hardened again, so easily, so powerfully. Hethrobbedwith need. But he didn’t touch. He didn’t lower himself to her once more. He met her gaze. “Show me,” he ordered.
Her mouth curved. “I dreamed of that too.” She trailed one hand down her body, cupping her own breast with the other. She did everything to her own body he wanted to do with his own hands, but he watched instead, hardening as she brought herself to a glorious, crashing climax.
Her gaze met his as her breathing came in quick bursts. “You’re better.”
He had no response to that. To her. Nothing in words anyway.
He gripped her leg, pulled her to the edge of the bed, spread her legs wide so that he could see the glorious heart of her. He waited there, watched the color rise in her cheeks, spread over her breasts. And still he waited, drawing out the moment, the anticipation.
