Page 17 of Scoundrel for Sale
“You are.” He brought his lips up to lave her ear. “Believe me, you are.”
Her eyes had taken on a mischievous glint. When she spoke, her voice was husky. “But I’ll bet I could tease you even more.”
She scooted back, which caused him to whimper in protest. God, how his hands itched to cup those full, round, perfect breasts. “Please, Abbie—”
He wasn’t sure what he was going to ask her to do, but it didn’t matter. The words died on his lips as he realized what she intended.
Her hands had reached down to the front of his pantaloons. Her fingers were fumbling with the buttons of his falls.
The pads of her fingers rubbed the head of his cock as she worked the button directly on top of it, and his head fell back on a moan.
Abbie froze, misinterpreting the feral sound he had made. “Is—is that all right?”
“It’s more than all right,” he hastened to reassure her.
“You like that, then?” she asked, abandoning the button and instead stroking her sweet little hand up and down his length, caressing him through his pantaloons.
His thoughts turned to scrambled eggs because Gabe knew his body well enough to realize that he was seconds away from spending right in his trousers. The pleasure was exquisite, and he wanted to come desperately, but—but—
His hand shot out and grasped Abbie’s around the wrist, pulling her hand away from his straining cock.
This was not how he wanted it to be.
When he came, he wanted to be inside her.
They both stared at their joined hands, reveling in the significance that he had broken, that he had touched her.
He was breathing hard, but he managed to get a few words out. “Shift off. On the bed. Now.”
Chapter 7
Abbie had never been naked in front of a man before.
It was a strange thing for a woman who had been married and widowed, but it was true. When she’d lain with Dulson, it had usually been dark, and mostly he just drew her shift up rather than undress her fully.
The hotel suite, on the other hand, was bright with beeswax candles. As she knelt on the bed, Abbie felt a pang of nerves, wondering if Gabe would find her attractive. But she forced herself to meet his eye as she drew her shift up over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her in nothing but black silk stockings held up by black ribboned garters.
He froze, and the heat in his eyes as his gaze raked up and down her body helped her to relax a fraction. He stalked over to the bed, not even tearing his eyes from her as he kicked off his boots. “On your back,” he growled.
Abbie sank back onto the plush white counterpane, and—merciful heavens—Gabe crawled right on top of her. Her body jolted at the delicious feeling of all his satiny, golden skin brushing against hers.
To say that he kissed her next would be the most pallid sort of understatement. He did not kiss so much as devour. This was the moment Abbie determined that Gabe’s reputation as the most skillful lover in all of England wasn’t mere hyperbole. Never had she imagined that a mere kiss could produce such exquisite sensations, but within seconds, he had her desperate for him, clinging to his shoulders and making sounds she hadn’t realized herself capable of. Her heart began to pound, and her thighs began to tremble, and then her heart began to pound between her thighs, which didn’t even make sense, except it was happening.
All the while, Gabe’s hands remained fisted in the bedclothes, his grip so tight that veins stood out along his forearms.
He ripped his lips from hers with a growl and began kissing his way down her neck.
“G-Gabe!” she gasped. “I—I need…”
Abbie broke off, as she wasn’t actually sure what she needed, but Gabe made soothing sounds as he pressed his lips against her clavicle, then trailed them lower, over the upper swell of her breast. “Don’t worry, darling. I know what you need.”
He brushed a gentle kiss against her nipple, which was wonderful, but then he pulled back, which was excruciating. Abbie cried out in frustration. He proceeded to torture her, kissing every inch of her breast other than the spot where she wanted his lips most desperately.
At last, when he teased the edge of her areola for the third time, she grabbed him by the back of his head and pressed her nipple into his mouth. He made a sound of approval as he gave her the strong suction she’d been craving, and she cried out, her hips bucking upon the bed.
Unthinkingly, he reached a hand out to cup her other breast, then froze, realizing what he’d been about to do. His wrist flexed in midair, and his chest turned to iron above her as he struggled for control.
As he started to return his trembling hand to the counterpane, Abbie caught him by the wrist. “No, Gabe.”
