He propped himself on one elbow. “What made you come to my chamber tonight?” He took a lock of her hair and let it slip through his fingers. “What gave you the strength to be bold?”
Even wrapped in confidence, there was something cautious in his voice, a need to know she had chosen this for herself.
“It was when you mentioned your grandmother’s motto. While showing me her portrait.”
She remembered the subtle tremor in his voice, thelonging he hadn’t meant her to hear. It stayed with her, refusing to fade. And when he’d kissed her afterwards, and it almost hurt to let go, she’d realised how desperately she wanted this man.
“That the precious things aren't made of diamonds?”
“That life is fleeting, and not to waste another second.”
He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek, his breath a sensual sigh. “That’s the only reason? The wise words of a woman who saw the joy in everything?”
She dropped her gaze, but he caught her chin, urging her to look at him, to let him hear her confession.
“You want the truth?”
“Always.”
Her mouth was dry, but she owed him this.
“I can’t think when I’m with you. I just need to feel, feel your mouth on mine, your hands on my skin. The fire that burns through every thought until there’s nothing left but us.”
She had never felt more alive than in those passionate moments.
“But I’m afraid, Gabriel.”
“Afraid?” His voice gentled. “I told you, I’ll be mindful?—”
“Not about making love.” She touched his chest, trailing her fingers through the dark hair there. He was remarkable in every regard. The strength beneath her hand was tempered by absolute control, every muscle honed, every breath measured. “I know you’ll be kind and gentle.”
“Then what? You fear the men hunting your father’s secrets?”
“No. I’m afraid I’ll wake in the morning and realise this was all a wonderful dream.” Worse than that. “Or that you’ll wake and think this—us—was a dreadful mistake.”
His hand skimmed the curve of her hip, drawing her against him. “Let me prove every part of this is real. Let me show you why it could never be a mistake.”
The first kiss was slow. Tentative.
Their breath mingled, lips brushing, as if neither dared move too fast. He deepened it by degrees, and the warmth between them bloomed. Her moan spilled into him as he crushed her closer, their bodies pressing tight, the kiss turning fierce. What began as hesitation unfurled into hunger, mouths parting, thoughts dissolving, until breathless pants became a wordless plea.
“God, woman,” he growled, fisting her hair and holding her mouth to his. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
Arousal slid through her, potent as a drug. He couldn’t kiss her deeply enough. Each long sweep of his tongue tightened her belly, the pull sharpening until her breasts felt heavy and tender, desperate for his touch.
They were so in tune he seemed to read her mind. He rolled her onto her back, pressing her into the mattress, every hard plane of him moulded to hers.
“I do nothing by halves, Olivia.” His smooth baritone sent tingles down her spine. “Not when it comes to you. I have to touch you, every part of you, with my hands, my mouth. If it’s too much, if I’m too much, you must tell me.”
She looked up at him, the candlelight carving shadows over his chest and shoulders. He was all power and purpose, dark hair falling over his brow, tension rippling beneath every muscle. He smelled of spice and wood and something wilder, of distant forests and midnight rain. A peaceful place. Her place.
But it wasn’t his strength that held her still. It was his eyes, dark as obsidian, dangerous to most yet heaven to her.
“You could never be too much.” She cupped his cheek. He would never hurt her, she knew, and that frightened her all the more. Because to trust him was to risk loving him.
“But do you want me? All of me?”
All of him? The notion proved a little startling. “I thought that was obvious. Do you know the strength it took to come to your room?”
