He’d taught himself to ignore her beauty.
Only watching Abby as she was now, laughing with Hughie, he couldn’t help but notice. Her smile, her dimples, her sparkling eyes, the grace and fluidity of movement that were as much a part of her as were her arms and legs.
He’d kept her at a distance this last fortnight, and he’d been glad. As if every day that passed without more than an occasional civility, a brief greeting, proved that he was up to the challenge of being married to Abigail and not capitalising on the chemistry that flashed between them.
Hughie’s face was animated. He said something low and Abby had to lean closer to hear it properly. Her body, wrapped in one of the coats he’d bought her, made Gabe’s pulse throb. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her expression serious as she concentrated on what Hughie said, and then she laughed again, reaching a hand out and touching his forearm. Their eyes met and Hughie’s look of admiration was obvious.
Gabe swore into his office and dragged a hand through his hair.
She was serious now, her expression almost haunted, her eyes focused on the house, and Gabe’s heart shifted in his chest. She was beautiful when she laughed, and enigmatic when she was sombre. Both emotions seemed to call to him in a way he utterly resented.
Just the sight of another man looking at Abby like Hughie was stirred a dark, possessive lust within Gabe’s bones.
She was the mother of his child, the woman who’d given her virginity to him. She was his in so many ways… He just had to remind her of that.
* * *
‘Where do you want it?’ Hughie asked, straightening the tree as though it were simply a bunch of flowers.
‘I suppose the study?’ Abby murmured, thinking of the room that had the comfortable leather lounges and a view of the alps.
‘The study is nice,’ Hughie said. ‘But it’s out of the way, and I’m not sure this beast you’ve chosen will fit. It might have to be the entrance hall.’
He was right. Here at the house, without the other enormous trees dwarfing it, Abby could see the tree she’d chosen was actually quite large.
‘Okay.’ She nodded in agreement, equally pleased with the idea of the tree being set in the midst of the beautiful armchairs and sofa that sat in the foyer.
‘Abigail?’ There was a coldness in Gabe’s voice. She turned to face him slowly, marshalling her expression into one of dispassionate curiosity, ignoring the kaleidoscope of butterflies that had begun to beat against her insides.
Why did he have to be so handsome? Even now, wearing dark jeans and a black pullover, he looked like a piece of art.
‘I need you for a moment.’
‘Oh.’ Abby chewed on her lip. ‘We were just about to set up the tree…’
‘I can see that,’ Gabe responded with barely suppressed anger.
‘You’re all right, Abby,’ Hughie interrupted with a grin. ‘I can wrangle this monster on my own.’
She was sure he could, but that wasn’t the point. She’d been looking forward to helping. She shot Gabe a look of impatience but when she saw the dark, almost tortured emotions in the lines around his eyes, her own emotions ebbed. Had something serious happened?
‘Okay.’ She had a sense of urgency about her now. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
When she was level with Gabe on the stairs, he began to move upwards and she did her utmost to remain as far away from him as possible.
When they reached the landing though, he put a hand in the small of her back and steered her down the hallway at speed.
‘I can walk just fine by myself, thank you,’ she said tersely.
He threw her a fulminating glare.
‘What the heck is going on?’ she asked, coming to a stop halfway down the corridor.
‘I would prefer to discuss it in private.’ He nodded pointedly towards a door and, curiosity growing, she went with him.
‘Fine, we’re in private now,’ she said once they were ensconced in her bedroom. She determinedly tried to ignore the presence of the bed.
Gabe shut the door.
‘You tell me you’re worried about rumours of infidelity, but at the first chance you get you’re out there flaunting yourself for all the world to see.’
Abby froze. ‘What?’
‘You were practically fawning over Hughie just now.’
She gaped, speechless, lost for words.
He prowled towards her. ‘You actually think sleeping with a member of our household staff is appropriate?’
‘He’s not “our” household staff, he’s yours,’ she snapped.
‘An unimportant distinction.’
‘And I’m not sleeping with him,’ she denied hotly. ‘I like him, okay? He’s nice to me and we speak the same language. He’s the only other person I’ve actually been able to talk to since I moved to Italy. He’s nice to me, unlike a certain other someone I could mention and, newsflash, Gabe, it’s refreshing to spend time with someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m dirt on the sole of their shoe.’
He glared at her, his expression darker, if possible. ‘I don’t care that he’s nice to you,’ Gabe snapped. ‘He’s off-limits. I don’t want to see you talking to him again.’
She made a scoffing sound. ‘You can’t click your fingers and just forbid me from having a friend.’
‘No? But I can fire him,’ Gabe responded, taking another step towards her, his expression mutinous.
‘Don’t you dare.’ Abby pushed at his chest but he caught her hands, holding them in place, and when her eyes met his now, sparks of another variety flew, like their own localised fireworks display, erupting between their chests.
‘Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m not going to have you carrying on with whoever you decide you want…’
‘Oh, grow up,’ she said, pushing at his chest again. He pulled her hands down, holding them by her side, his breath heavy. ‘I’m not sleeping with your gardener. I’m not sleeping with anyone! I haven’t slept with anyone since you, so you can just go to hell with all your stupid accusations.’
Gabe’s expression shifted momentarily and then it was fiercely intense and, before Abby knew what was happening, he was kissing her.
No, it wasn’t a kiss, it was so much more. It was a mark of utter, unquestionable possession. It was a raging, desperate connection. His lips mashed to hers, his tongue slid inside her mouth and she made a noise of surprise and then surrender, low in her throat, her hands pulling free of his grip and reaching under his shirt, connecting with his bare chest, skin she remembered so intimately.
It had been over a year since they’d done this and yet it felt as if no time had passed. Or was it that they—this—existed outside the bounds of time and space?
‘You won’t be with anyone else,’ he grunted, ripping his shirt over his head so she could marvel at his naked chest. He crushed her to him, kissing her desperately once more, his hands lifting to her hair and tangling in its length. It was still cold from her time in the snow and perhaps that reminded him of what they’d been fighting about, because he made another darkly guttural noise before stepping out of his trousers and pants so that he was completely naked.
‘You are mine,’ he said, pushing her shirt off, his expression deadly serious.
‘I’m not yours,’ she snapped. ‘How can I be? You don’t even speak to me. You don’t look at me. I’m not yours.’
‘I’m looking at you now.’ He pushed at her jeans at the same time she stepped out of them. She wasn’t his, but she was sure as hell desperate for him.
There was a vital difference, she told herself.
‘I don’t want you to just look at me,’ she said boldly.
His laugh was hoarse. ‘That’s just as well.’
He ran his hands over her back, his fingertips gliding trails of goosebumps over her skin.
>
‘You are too beautiful for your own good,’ he groaned. His mouth came down on her breast, taking a nipple deep in his mouth, rolling it with his tongue, teasing it between his teeth so that shards of pleasure and pain shot through her body like little lightning bolts. His fingers toyed with her other breast, his palm wrapping around her, holding her weight, his thumb and forefinger rubbing over her nipple until she was crying out, moaning his name over and over again.
‘You want me?’ he asked, something grim in the question.
‘Yes.’ She wasn’t afraid to admit that; she was afraid of what would happen if she didn’t. She was afraid of this coming to an end when she needed Gabe, in that moment, more than she’d ever needed anything from anyone.
‘Good,’ he growled. ‘Because I intend to make your body so desperate for mine that you cannot go a day without feeling me inside of you.’
She gasped at the promise, excitement flooding her veins.
‘I thought you didn’t want to touch me.’
‘Apparently, I was wrong,’ he admitted, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. His arousal was so hard and so close to her that she tried to push down, to take him deep inside her but he made a tsking noise. ‘Be patient, tempesta.’
He placed her on the bed, his kiss pushing her back so that his weight was on top of her. He disappeared, but only for a moment, and when he returned it was with a foil square in his hands. He sheathed himself and she held her breath, needing so desperately to feel him.
‘Is this what you want?’ he asked, pressing his arousal to her womanhood gently, teasing, so that she nodded, her brow fevered, her eyes hungry.
‘Say please,’ he commanded.
‘Please,’ she whimpered, arching her back.
‘Tell me again that I am the only man you’ve slept with,’ he demanded, pushing himself a little deeper inside her, so that she groaned softly.
‘Yes, yes.’ She lifted her hands over her head.
He pulled out completely. ‘Say it.’
Her eyes jerked open but she nodded. ‘I haven’t been with anyone since you.’
His smile was grim but he gave her what she needed, thrusting deeper into her feminine core. Still not deep enough, but she let out a low, soft moan as pleasure rippled through her.
Her fingernails dug deep into his back, scoring his shoulders as she lifted her legs, needing to wrap around his waist, to hold him closer, but he caught her knees and held her apart, kept her at a distance, his control and mastery of her body absolute.
‘Please,’ she cried out, desperate for release, for pleasure, for Gabe.
He dropped his mouth to her breast and flicked her nipple with his tongue, then ran his mouth down her body, over her flat stomach, across the dip of her navel and the apex of her thighs.
She gasped when his mouth connected with her most intimate flesh. ‘Has a man ever touched you here?’
She whimpered and shook her head, digging her fingernails into the bed sheets.
His tongue ran across her seam and perspiration dampened her brow, her nipples pushed hard into the air, her whole body covered in goosebumps.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he said against her, his fingers running over her hips, finding her thighs and spreading them, giving him greater access.
‘What about?’ The question was panted, the words husky.
‘I want you in my bed every night. Like this. Begging for me.’
She arched her back, her brain unable to engage and function, her mind non-existent.
‘I need you,’ she cried out.
‘Then say you agree,’ he said, his tongue dipping inside her so that she lost the ability to speak as well as to think. She was incandescent with desire, so completely overcome by the consuming need of him, so fully in the moment that she couldn’t respond at all.
He lifted away from her and she let out a guttural noise of impatience.
‘This is torture,’ she snapped, pushing up on her elbows, panting, her long hair across her face.
He nodded. ‘Yes.’ He brought his body back to hers, his weight pleasing, his absence from her body not. ‘I will torture you until you admit to me what you want.’
‘I have,’ she groaned, wrapping her legs around his waist.
As with before, he pushed her knees downward, shaking his head. ‘I’m not having a wife who runs around with a gardener, or anyone else. Not when we make such sense together in bed.’
Through the fog of sensual desire, the words pushed into her brain. He was acknowledging that this was special, different and addictive, for him as well.
‘Well,’ she said, the word husky, thick, angry. ‘That goes both ways. I won’t have a husband who runs around with anyone.’
His eyes sparkled with something like an acknowledgement and he nodded, bringing his hard, firm arousal back to her feminine core. ‘Deal,’ he said, sliding inside her, thrusting hard, so that she let out a cry of relief when he finally took possession of her, his body everything she remembered and so much more.
His fingers laced through hers, pushing them above her head, and he kissed her, his possession absolute. He stoked flames in her she hadn’t known existent, his body was, in that instant, her reason for being. Every movement, every thrust, every touch, every kiss, sent her closer and closer towards the edge of sanity until she was crying out, pleasure like a single point of bright light in her brain, blinding her utterly.
‘Gabe.’ She whispered his name and he broke the kiss to look at her. ‘Is this normal?’
She had no experience outside of what they’d shared, but if sex was like this—enough to tear you apart at your cosmic core—then how did people ever get anything done?
In answer, he pulled out of her, something like iron in his expression, his desertion intense, but then he thrust into her anew so that she bucked her hips hard, meeting his demands—more than meeting them, conquering them.
‘No, tempesta.’ The admission seemed ripped from the depths of his being. ‘Nothing about this is normal.’
Among the desire, the longing, the pleasure and the delicious, sensual heat, Abby knew she felt relief at that. She was glad this was different, even for him. She wanted to ask more, to ask him if he’d ever felt this, if he’d felt this the first time they were together, if he could tell her why it was so incredible between them.
But then he kissed her again and she surrendered to the moment completely, lost to the pleasure of their connection and the power of his body.
Pleasure began to spin in her gut, slow and insistent, before bursting through her whole body, promising delight and release, and she called his name over and over, arching her back, welcoming his every movement, taking him in deep, kissing him as though her life depended on it.
His hands sought her breasts, palming them, moving over them, and her release didn’t abate, she was building anew, wave after wave of pleasure dousing her until she almost couldn’t bear it.
At the moment she began to fall apart, he joined her, swearing under his breath as he thrust into her so deep and hard that it tipped her completely over the edge. She wasn’t conscious of how loud she was being until he laughed, a choked sound, and pressed his lips to hers. Not a kiss of passion so much as to silence her.
Their breathing was in unison, just the inhalation and exhalation of two bodies that had been torn apart by sensual heat.
It had been the most intense pleasure of her life. Abby only realised now that he had been gentle with her in New York. That he had taken her innocence slowly, softly, subjugating his own desires to meet her own, initiating her into the way of lovemaking and desire in a way that would enable her to feel maximum pleasure.
But now?
No-holds-barred sex, and it had rocked her world to the core.
‘That was amazing,’ she sighed.
His bo
dy was still heavy on hers, his breathing deep, and she wondered if he’d fallen asleep until he shifted and his eyes met hers. ‘You are mine,’ he said darkly, seriously, reminding her of the argument they’d had before they’d slept together. ‘I do not want to see you talking to Hughie again, as though he is your lover…’
‘Gabe—’ Abby smiled, trying to hold onto the threads of what they’d just shared, needing to be enveloped by intimacy for a little longer ‘—how can you think about anyone else after that? How can you think I am?’
‘You forget, Abigail, that I know what you’re capable of. That I have no reason to think the best of you.’
And the desire that had made her body so warm gave way to ice-cold regret. Remorse.
She pulled away from him, pushing him off her at the same time she jack-knifed off the bed, her face pale, her expression mutinous.
‘How dare you throw insults at me after what we just shared?’ she demanded through teeth that were chattering.
‘We just shared sex,’ he said with a nonchalant shrug. ‘Albeit fantastic sex, but it doesn’t change who you are.’
Abby shifted away from him, her eyes seeking her clothes, needing, desperately, to shield herself from him. ‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she said, finding her underpants first and sliding them up her shaking legs, grateful for the modesty they afforded.
His short, sharp laugh was a dismissal that twisted her heart painfully in her chest. ‘I know everything I need to know,’ he corrected.
‘Oh? Enlighten me,’ she demanded, finding her jeans and turning them so they were the right side out.
‘I don’t need to enlighten you. You’re not stupid.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad that’s not something you can fault me for.’
Gabe frowned, his expression one of true bemusement. ‘After the way we met, I cannot change how I feel about you, nor what I think you are. But this—’ he gestured to the bed ‘—this is a silver lining.’
‘God—’ she reached for her jumper, holding it in the palm of her hand ‘—you’re such a bastard! You’re cold and ruthless and heartless and so, so cruel. How can you think this marriage will ever work when you speak to me like that?’
Bound by Their Christmas Baby Page 10
