“Are you trying to tell me that I have the power to actually
make you behave a little impetuously?” She tried to mock.
He didn’t smile. “Yes. Impetuously. Rashly. Impulsively. I’m
not normally an impulsive man, Samantha. But around you… “
She shook her head, watching him from beneath her lashes. “You’d
probably hate me in the morning then. I don’t want emotions to cloud our
business arrangements.”
“I can’t seem to think as far ahead as tomorrow morning,” he
muttered thickly, cradling her head close against his shoulder. He used one
square hand to push her head down to the sweater, and although the caress was
gentle enough, Samantha realized there was no way on earth she could move from
where he held her. “Samantha, I don’t want to talk about how or what I’ll feel
tomorrow. Right now all I can think about is… “ The sentence was halted
abruptly, and Samantha moved uneasily against him.
“All you can think about is getting me into bed?” she finished
for him, whispering the words into his sweater.
“That’s a relatively polite way of saying it, I suppose,” he
agreed heavily. Yes, getting you into bed his own thoughts echoed, making you
mine, hearing you call my name in passion, making you respond to me, learning what
it feels like to have you lying beneath me. “What it comes down to, Samantha,”
he said finally, “is that I want you, and I don’t care how much it’s going to
cost me.”
She froze. “I’m not for sale, Gabriel!”
“I’m not talking about money, damn it,” he breathed, catching
her chin in the cup of his hand and lifting her face so that she could see the
burning intensity in his eyes. “Leave the money out of this!”
He bent his head again, and Samantha stumbled slightly as he
thrust his foot heavily between hers, forcing her weight against him. He sensed
the shiver that went through her and immediately tightened his hold.
“Samantha, Samantha . “ The masculine groan was half plea;
half command.
She felt herself slipping into his sensual trap, her instincts
responding to the uncanny pull he was exerting. She had never known a man who
made love with this fundamental honesty. With Drew it had been a dance of
sophisticated passion, a fantasy of being in tune intellectually and
emotionally with the right man. Since the disaster which had ensued in the wake
of that affair, Samantha had remained aloof from men. She had not needed one,
had not particularly wanted one in any other role than that of casual escort.
It had proven easy enough to keep men at a distance, and Samantha thought she
at last learned the lesson Vera Maitland had tried to teach. There were far
more important matters in life than an ongoing relationship with a man.
Someday, she had promised herself, she would take the lesson the rest of the
way and allow herself the occasional brief affair. Vera was the last person on
earth to suggest that a woman deny herself the physical pleasures of a man-woman
association.
But tonight Samantha couldn’t seem to think properly. There
was something new and different in the charged atmosphere which was enveloping
herself and Gabriel. She wanted to fully experience the powerful feelings this
man was capable of arousing within her. She wanted to explore the depths of
this man’s passion. There was nothing wrong with experimentation and discovery,
she reminded herself. There was nothing wrong with taking a few risks. So long
as one did not surrender completely to the fantasy that was love.
Love. The word flickered in and out of her brain, and instantly
she felt more certain of her rationalizing thoughts. There was no love involved
here. As long as she acknowledged that, she was safe. Perhaps the time had come
to allow herself to venture once more into the waters of sensual fulfillment.
As a woman she was entitled to experience the pleasures of a physical
relationship. As an intelligent, thinking woman she could do that without
courting disaster. All she had to do was keep things in perspective.
As if he sensed her internal decision, Gabriel dragged his
mouth off hers. Without a word he pinned her to his side, his arm tightly
anchored around her shoulders, and led her back across the sand toward the
beachfront home.
He was aware of the trembling in his own hands as he guided
her silently through the night. She was going to give him what he needed
tonight. A part of him could hardly believe it, and another side of him
insisted that there could have been no other outcome. He had to have her.
Deliberately he stopped trying to analyze the conflicting emotions.
She was coming home with him. That was all that mattered tonight. With this
woman he was learning the real meaning of reckless passion, he tried to tell
himself humorously. But it was too close to being reality to elicit even a
slight smile. True impulsiveness was something you laughed or cried over after
the fact, not during the experience.
Samantha blindly pushed aside her own thoughts. The details
could be sorted out in the morning. Right now she only wanted to learn what lay
in store for her in an angel’s arms. She, too, winced a bit at the faint trembling
in her fingertips, and then she forgot about it as Gabriel urged her down the
carpeted hall to his bedroom.
He got her through the door and then he folded her into his
arms as if he couldn’t wait an instant longer. She was fleetingly aware of the
uncluttered simplicity of the room, knew that the windows faced the ocean, but all
she could concentrate on was the feel of his hands as they went unhesitatingly
to the buttons of her black leather jacket.
Holding her mouth damply with his own, Gabriel slipped the
leather from her shoulders. A moment later his hands flattened along the
slender line of her back and then moved slowly around her waist until they rested
just beneath the small weight of her breasts. The thin cotton fabric of her
shirt conducted the heat of his palms with startling efficiency. Samantha could
feel it burning into her flesh, and she whispered his name helplessly into his
throat.
“I want to see you the way I saw you this afternoon,” he
growled gently, “soft and naked and waiting for me.” He buried his lips in her
hair, nuzzling the sweet place behind her ear as he worked carefully to undo
the tiny buttons of her shirt.
He was a precise, step-by-step sort of man, Samantha reminded
herself wonderingly as she submitted meekly to the slow, deliberate undressing.
Who would have thought that there could be such mounting excitement to be had
simply from being undressed so precisely?
He took his time and did it right. Each button down the
front of the shirt and then the ones at the cuffs were carefully undone before
he eased the material off and set the garment down on top of the leather jacket
which had been placed on a nearby chair.
She had worn no bra, and when he turned back to her,
Samantha’s breasts were bathed in moonlight. “You fit my palm perfectly,” he
breathed, reaching out to
cup
the soft weight of one
breast in his fingers. “When I first saw you on that massage table, I wanted to
pull that towel off of you, turn you over on your back, and just look at you.”
Samantha inhaled sharply, her body reacting unbelievably as
he lowered his head and curled his tongue lingeringly around each nipple in
turn. She felt the round, dark peaks being coaxed forth into an aching tautness
that sent echoing ripples of sensation down into her thighs. Slowly Gabriel
tasted and cajoled and urged with his tongue and lips until he seemed
reluctantly satisfied with the effect he’d had on her body.
“Tell me you want me,” he muttered deeply, lifting his head
again and taking one of her hands in his. “Tell me that this is a sign of
wanting.”
Before she quite realized what he intended, Gabriel gently
forced her fingertips to her breast, making her fully aware of the ruby-hard
evidence of her own desire. Samantha gasped, strangely astounded, even a little
alarmed at the incredibly erotic effect the caress had on her. She had thought
herself as much in tune with her own body as any other woman, but never before
had she been made to touch it under the guidance of a man.
“Gabriel, please,” she moaned, putting her face into his
solid shoulder to hide the flame in her cheeks. She tried to tug her hand away
from his, but he held it to her breast a moment longer.
“Tell me,” he urged thickly.
“I want you.” The words came in a little relieved rush. It
was the truth. There was nothing wrong with wanting a man, she told herself
again and again. Nothing at all. But that knowledge didn’t cancel the odd fear she
experienced when she realized just how much she desired Gabriel Sinclair.
He dropped her hand, and she hastily wound both arms around
his neck as he murmured the words of need into her ear. Then she felt the clasp
of her jeans being undone, and the denim was peeled away from her hips. A
moment later she stood naked in the shadowy room, pressing close as Gabriel
slid his large hands hungrily up and down her spine. The rough texture of his
sweater teased the already inflamed nipples.
Slowly he rocked her from side to side against his body,
brushing her hips with exciting roughness along the outline of the waiting
hardness beneath his jeans.
Of their own accord her fingers moved down his shoulders and
up under the dark blue sweater to find the bare, warm skin underneath. “You
could drive me crazy tonight, do you know that?” he demanded fiercely.
“Have you ever been crazy?”
“Not until I met you.”
With shaking hands she got his sweater off, dumping it
heedlessly to the floor rather than folding it carefully and stacking it on the
chair as he had done with her things. “Angel hair,” she drawled deliciously,
spreading her fingertips through the curling mass on his chest.
“If you like the hair, you’ll love the feathers.” Gabriel flinched
at his own poor joke. He rarely made jokes of any kind, least of all when he
was making love to a woman. Carefully he put out a hand and removed her glasses,
setting them aside with grave precision.
“Feathers?” Samantha looked up at him through her lashes.
“On my back. Where the wings are, of course.”
“I can’t wait.” With a soft sigh she leaned her cheek against
his bare shoulder and trailed her nails down across the flat, masculine nipple.
When the caress made him suck in his breath, she continued it boldly, probing at
the waistband of his jeans.
“Finish undressing me, Samantha,” he rasped, taking hold of
both of her palms and fitting them to his waist. He nibbled hungrily at the tip
of her ear and along the line of her jaw as she obediently began pushing the rough
denim down the flat planes of his hips.
She realized abruptly that just as she hadn’t taken the time
to pull on underwear before sliding into her jeans earlier, neither had Gabriel
bothered with a pair of shorts. With alarming swiftness the full, surging
heaviness of his manhood was revealed, his arousal somehow a challenge and a
threat.
As his jeans fell to the floor at his feet, Samantha stepped
back reflexively, but he clamped his fingers into the curve of her buttocks and
dragged her close again, eyes gleaming. I want you, Samantha. So badly I can’t
even think straight. Touch me, honey.
Touch
me!”
She moaned, fluttering her hands down to rest on the solid,
strong line of his thighs. Gabriel shivered in reaction, and his response gave
her the courage to continue the bold caress. With tingling lightness she traced
the outline of body hair from below his navel to the thrusting shape of his
masculinity.
Unsatisfied with the delicate touch, Gabriel pushed himself
deeply into her warm palm, urging her to caress him more forcefully.
Simultaneously he let his fingers slide tantalizingly into the curve of her
buttocks.
“Oh, my God! Gabriel, I … I’m going to lose my balance.”
She panted, releasing him to sink her fingertips helplessly into his shoulders
as she sought to steady herself Her eyes were half-closed and glazed with a passion
she didn’t fully comprehend.
She felt the throbbing triumph in him as he wordlessly scooped
her up into his arms and carried her across to the bed. When she sprawled
languidly down on the sheets, he leaned over to cage her possessively between his
arms.
“I keep telling myself that we’ve got the rest of the night,”
he whispered huskily, “but I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
“Is that a warning?”
“A statement of fact.”
She smiled tremulously up at him with ancient, feminine provocation,
holding out her arms. His rocklike weight came down to half-cover her body in a
wave of elemental force.
“Oh, Gabriel!” Samantha’s eyes squeezed shut against the
unexpected rushes of pleasure he began eliciting as his hands wandered over her
body, bringing each part of her
pulsatingly
alive.
Her legs shifted on the cool sheets, seeking to entwine him, and the crystallized
copper of her nails left tiny marks in his bronzed skin as she began to cling
to him more and more demandingly.
“Tell me again how much you want me,” he ordered against the
soft curve of her breast just before his teeth closed over one rigid nipple. “I
need to hear the words.”
“I want you, Gabriel. I need you. I have to feel you inside
of me.” Could he hear the bewilderment she felt beneath her haze of passion? Nothing
had prepared her for her response to this man. The pleasure in her body had
turned into compulsion. When his heated kisses reached her stomach, she arched
her lower body in reaction. “Now, Gabriel, please, now!”
“Not yet, honey. Not yet.”
There would be no pushing him, she realized finally. Gabriel
Sinclair did everything carefully and thoroughly. When his fingers slid between
her thighs, she closed her legs quickly, needing the feel of him there to help ease
the growing pressure. Her muscles could not remain locked against the
persuasive biting kisses he began to trail through the curling hair which
marked the delta of her thighs, however.