Page 22 of The Wolf and his Witch

She chuckled. “I don’t think I can move.”

The night was still young. Gabriel wasn’t done with her yet. He didn’t think he’d ever be done, but tonight… Tonight was all about making up for lost time. For those three agonizing years they’d spent apart.

He eased out of her and got to his feet. Scooping her up, he cradled her in his arms, as he padded across the room and up the floating staircase to the master suite.

There, he laid her on the bed. “Stay,” he growled. “We’re not finished here, Belle.”

Chapter Ten

Annabelle stayed. She had no intention of moving, her body pleasantly limp and satiated. Finally. Since the moment she’d stood across from him in Aunt Marjory’s study, the craving to have him had plagued her. Now it was satisfied. For the moment, at least.

Her gaze followed Gabriel’s taut ass as he disappeared into the bathroom. She closed her eyes and languished on the lush comforter, her body still tingling from two mind-blowing orgasms. There would be more. Gabriel always had had the stamina of a prize bull. It made perfect sense now. Shifter genes and all that.

She frowned. In the heat of the moment, she’d trusted him when he’d said they didn’t need to use a condom. They’d used them in Paris. Every single time. They’d blown through so many packets of the damn things she should have bought stocks in the company. Were they simply a part of his deception? Keeping his true nature from her?

She pushed herself up on her elbows. He’d said he couldn’t procreate with humans. Wasthatwhy he’d left? And what had he meant by the wolves of Langeais were werewolves in the true sense of the word? In what way were they different from other shifters? Other than their supposed inability to not get humans pregnant. She needed to look into that. Maybe Aunt Marjory knew something. Or one of the shifter packs known to the coven.

“You’re thinking very hard there,ma chérie.”Gabriel leaned against the doorway, a wet cloth in his hands.

Lord, the man was a piece of art. A Michaelangelo sculpture in the flesh. Six feet four inches of gorgeous, chiseled flesh. Her stomach fluttered. Once with Gabriel would never be enough. After tonight, would she be able to walk away?

“Just thinking about the mission,” she lied.

“Mmm.” He pushed off from the door frame and propped on the edge of the bed. Dipping the warm, flannel between her legs, with gentle strokes he cleaned her. “If you say so.”

Annabelle flopped back on the bed, surrendering to his ministrations and his gentle steady hands. With the flannel over his thumb, he rubbed against her clit and her body came alive again, arching into his hand.

“Gabe.” The word was little more than a breathless entreaty.

“I hear you,bebe.”

The cloth disappeared and his bare hands settled on her thighs, trailing down her legs to her boots.

“Putain, j’adore ces bottes.I think I’ll have you wear them every time we have sex.”

Laughter bubbled up in her chest. They were her favorite boots, too, and she had worn them with Gabriel in mind. She’d wanted to tempt him, wave in front of him what he’d chosen to discard. She’d planned to show him what was no longer his, and when she had him eating out of the palm of her hand, walk away from him with a sashay of her hips and a jaunt in her step. Yeah, that had worked out well.

Gabriel moved to the end of the bed, grasped her ankles and tugged until her naked ass was on the very edge. Then he sunk to his knees, spread her thighs and draped her legs over his shoulders.

God, the sight of him between her legs, his dark eyes fixated on her core… Could she orgasm from a simple look?

“Sexy boots, pretty pussy.” His hot breath puffed against her swollen lips.

She just might.

“All mine.”

Then he put his mouth on her, and Annabelle knew the true meaning of the word ecstasy.

* * * *

Tucked against him, her breathing soft and steady, his mate slept, worn out by their marathon of sex. Her face, her expression soft in repose. No stubborn jutting of her chin, or flash of defiance in her eyes. He loved her sass, her independence and determination. He trailed a hand down her arm, and she stirred, murmuring in her sleep before settling again. But it was moments like these he truly treasured, where she lay soft and pliant in his arms. It was only here, in the bedroom, she let him take care of her. Where she dropped her guard, revealing a different side to the feisty Annabelle she showed the rest of the world.

He pressed a soft kiss on her head and she rolled over, her eyes fluttering open. With his large hand, he cupped her cheek, touching his lips to the top of her nose. Her gaze drifted to his leather wrist cuff, and her eyebrows dipped into a frown.

Annabelle placed her hand over his and leaned into his palm. “What if they’re right, Gabriel?”

Cornflower-blue eyes met his, full of uncertainty, and he swore vengeance on the person who’d put it there. “Right about what,mon amour?”

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