Page 32 of Scoundrel for Sale
He stood, and she tried to pull him to her. But Gabe resisted, stepping back to slip on a fresh condom before climbing up behind her on the bed. He kissed her neck, reaching around to caress her breasts as he urged her up onto her knees. “I like to watch, too,” he murmured huskily in her ear.
“Gabe?” she asked uncertainly as he guided his straining cock toward her opening. “Can we really…?”
“We can,” he said, his voice tight. He reached up to the headboard and snagged a couple of pillows, which he placed beneath Abbie’s knees to boost her up. Much better. Now he had the angle he needed…
Abbie gasped as his cock glided in and instinctively spread her thighs wider. Gabe groaned at the incandescent pleasure of her warm tightness, still slick from the pleasure he’d given her just moments before. He pressed kisses into her neck as he slowly pressed forward until he was fully seated.
Meeting her eyes in the mirror, he began to thrust. It was unbearably erotic, looking her in the eye as he made love to her. He could see his own expression, could see his heart laid bare upon his face. But that was all right, because Abbie looked much the same way. All the while, he made good use of his hands, stroking up her arms, teasing her nipples until her hips began to buck, and then stroking down over her downy stomach to once again settle between her legs.
He then proceeded to show her the real advantage of this position: the easy access it granted to that little pearl that was the center of her pleasure. She wasn’t too sensitive if the way she grabbed his wrist to hold his hand in place was any indication. Gabe was teetering on the edge of his own climax, and the erotic sight that greeted him in the mirror, of Abbie’s eyes, glassy with pleasure, did nothing to help him hold back. But his desire to give her pleasure was even stronger than his need to come, and although he would never know how he did it, he managed to suppress his own peak until Abbie began to shake in his arms.
Then he thrust with abandon, still working her sweet rosebud with fingers slick with her honey, and he cried out against her neck as the pleasure overwhelmed him.
Abbie fell limp as a ragdoll. Gabe was fairly sure he was the only thing holding her up. That was all right. He drew her gently to the head of the bed, settled her in his arms, and pulled the covers up over them.
She seemed drowsily content, and he thought she might fall asleep, but she surprised him by whispering, “This might be the happiest I’ve ever been. I just wish I was a great heiress, so I could be the one who gets to marry you.”
Gabe froze, unsure what to say. Of course, he wanted the same thing. His dreams of being with Abbie were what had sustained him through nine years on campaign.
But those had been dreams. Nothing more. Now that he was contemplating it, the thought of actually marrying Abbie was enough to make him break out in hives. That wouldn’t be merely breaking his vow to Hart. It would be flaunting it. The thought of his best friend scowling down at him from heaven was enough to make any man feel a twinge of guilt.
And besides—he was the man his own family hadn’t even wanted. He’d spent his entire life knowing that he was good for one thing, and one thing only: cannon fodder. The suggestion that he was worthy of Abbie…
It was ludicrous, is what it was. Ludicrous and incomprehensible.
She was awaiting his response, so he forced a weak chuckle. “I’m sure you could do better than the likes of me.”
He’d hoped she would let it go, but she rolled onto her stomach, propping a hand beneath her chin. Those aquamarine eyes studied him, and he had to suppress the instinct to squirm. “You don’t really think that. Do you?”
He tried to wave it off. “Of course not. I was only jesting.”
“I’m not sure I believe that.” She tilted her head to the side. “Is this because of the promise Hart forced you to make?”
He cleared his throat. “Come on, Abbie. Everyone knows I’m a scoundrel.”
“I don’t. A mere scoundrel would not have sent me such feeling letters.”
He stared at the ceiling, unable to meet her eye. “Look, tonight has been enjoyable. More than enjoyable. Let’s not ruin it.”
“Is that what I would be doing by telling you that I love you? Ruining it?”
Gabe’s good intentions of keeping his eyes fixed upon the plasterwork above him flew out the window. He searched Abbie’s face, trying to figure out if she meant those words, or if her question had been hypothetical. Part of him wanted to ask, and part of him was afraid of the answer. Not that he had much choice in the matter, as his tongue suddenly felt thick and leaden in his mouth.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, he couldn’t decide which it was—Abbie anticipated the question he couldn’t manage to form. “Because I do love you, Gabe. I always have. But recently, I’ve become surer than ever that you’re the man I want to spend my life with.”
“Because I inherited my great-uncle’s title,” Gabe blurted.
Abbie bit her lip. “I hope you don’t really believe that. I don’t give a fig about your title. I would want to marry you just as much if you were still a simple army lieutenant.” She took his hand and brushed her thumb across the back of his knuckles. “And the reason I want to marry you is because of your letters. They showed me what kind of man you really are.”
Gabe grunted and looked away. Which he knew was not the right response.
But honestly, what was he supposed to say? That he loved her, too? He did, but what did it matter? He was going to have to marry someone else regardless of how they felt about each other.
If he had any shred of decency, he would tell Abbie that he didn’t feel the same way. It might be a lie, but in the end, it would be kinder to make a clean break. She would hate him, but if it enabled her to move on and eventually find happiness with another man, a man who could marry her, wouldn’t that be better than for her to waste years longing for something neither of them could ever have?
But when she peered up at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty, and asked, “Do you love me, too, Gabe?” he couldn’t do it, couldn’t bear to be quite so cruel.
So he looked away and muttered, “I don’t want to hurt you, Abbie.”
