by Judith James
CHAPTER
17
Sarah waited, anxious and eager to have Gabriel to herself. He had said he loved her, she’d replied in kind, and now everything had changed. There was no pretending they were only friends anymore. She had missed him, missed his body, warm and solid beside her at night. She had missed his voice, tender and seductive as he teased her, and she had missed his lazy kisses, sweet and deep, curling her toes and melting her insides. She longed for, and dreaded, his touch, knowing it would take her past all restraint, to a place from which there was no turning back.
It was becoming harder and harder for her to tell the difference between right and wrong, what she feared and what she desired. The more she wanted him, the more she feared that if they crossed that tempting border, there would be heartache on the other side. She worried that what he needed was a friend, not a lover, and feared he would come to see her as another in a long line of people who had used him. She feared their friendship would be destroyed, and where there’d been something lovely, there would be only bitterness, disillusionment, and regret.
She’d also been struck, seeing him at the docks, tanned and fit, his dark hair streaked with sunlight and his eyes sparkling with excitement, at how beautiful he was. He could have any woman he wanted. If his life had been different, would he have ever chosen someone like her; a disreputable, opinionated, eccentric widow; large boned, far too tall, and careless of her appearance? It hardly seemed likely.
Her musings were interrupted by his appearance on her balcony. He stood, framed in the moonlight. An early spring breeze teased his hair, and his eyes sparked with heat and hunger. His shirt was open and her gaze traveled from his eyes, to his mouth, to his torso, taut and sleek, his stomach ridged with muscle, his skin alabaster in the moonlight. He looked like a Greek statue brought to life. She groaned in frustration. No woman should be so tempted. No woman could resist. He grinned, and stepped into the room. Seeing that his sleeves were rolled up and he wore the wrist guards, she returned his grin with a happy one of her own.
He crossed to her bed without a word, and slid in beside her, gathering her into his arms. He’d meant to tell her he loved her. He’d meant to thank her for the gift, but the moment her arms reached around his neck he forgot all his carefully planned words, and lowered his mouth to hers in a feverish kiss. Growling with pleasure and need, he grasped her bottom, pulling her hard against his length. He rolled on top of her, his knee deep between her thighs as his tongue sucked and stroked, thrusting against hers in a dance as ancient as time.
Sarah clutched his hair, pulling him close, deepening her kiss, as he swept her into a whirlwind of passion and pleasure. She moaned when he pulled his lips away, then shivered in anticipation as his fingertips began to trace her collarbone, sending delicious frissons of pleasure singing along her nerves, swelling her breasts, stiffening her nipples, and making her feel swollen and moist between her thighs. She gasped in white-hot pleasure when his lazy tongue rasped wet and hot against her nipple, moistening it through the cotton of her nightdress, sending waves of sensation thrilling to her core. He looked straight into her eyes, the question clear.
She closed her eyes, trying to gather her tattered wits, stunned by the riotous feelings coursing through her. She’d known no pleasure from her husband, and felt overwhelmed by the wild sensations she was experiencing now. It was too powerful. It was happening too fast. Shifting her weight, she pushed him away. “Enough, Gabriel, please. We … I … I think we should stop.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, drawing back. “I thought … clearly, I misunderstood.”
Stricken by the look of hurt in his eyes, she reached out to pull him back, but he was already up, preparing to leave. “Gabriel, don’t!”
“Don’t what? Don’t kiss you? Don’t touch you? I can’t help it, Sarah. I think about it all the time. Christ! I can’t keep doing this!”
“Please, just listen. Try to understand.”
“I do understand. I’ve just reminded you of what I am, a jaded, greedy whore. You’ve been kind to me, indulged me, though I cannot imagine why, but there are limits. The idea of being touched by me that way, knowing what I am, must disgust you.”
“Stop it! I hate when you speak like that! That’s not at all what I meant!”
“My apologies,” he said, his voice flat and cold. He turned to go, but she leapt from the bed, blocking his path.
“Gabriel, wait, please! For all the times I’ve listened to you, will you not hear me out?”
The look he gave her was resentful and cold, but he ceded her the door and went to sprawl ungraciously on the window seat. “I am listening, mignonne,” he said, his voice remote.
“I’m just so confused, Gabriel. I’m trying to do the right thing, and I don’t know what that is anymore. It’s not that I don’t want you. I do! I dream about you. I imagine … Look, you call yourself a whore, as if that’s who you are. How can I show you how wrong you are? How can I truly be your friend if I use you as everyone else has? Damn it, Gabe, you’re such an innocent!”
“Innocent!” He was so shocked his mouth hung slack and open.
“And now you look just like Ross,” she snapped.
“How can you call me that, Sarah? You know me better than anyone does. You’re the only one who really knows.”
“But you are, you know. You’ve known nothing of love, Gabriel. How could you? You have no way of arming or protecting yourself. You know how to deal with physical pain,” her gaze flicked toward his wrists, “but I’m so afraid that I might hurt you, Gabe, and I never want to do that.”
“Jesus,” he said with a shaky laugh, “one would never have guessed. You seem to delight in torturing me.”
“I’m also afraid that you might hurt me.”
He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. How could she think that of him? Didn’t she know him at all? “It’s been very foolish of you to have me alone in your room this way then, hasn’t it, mignonne?” he said coolly.
“Oh, hush! You know I don’t mean it like that! But I’ve watched you with Davey and his crew. You’re one of them. Anyone can see it. The sea will call you and you’ll answer. You’ll go adventuring. You won’t be content to stay here, even if you think so now, nor should you. You’ll meet people. You don’t seem to realize it yet, but you could have any woman you wanted.”
“I’ve had many women, Sarah. The only one I’ve wanted is you.”
She lifted her gaze to his, struck dumb by the torment in his eyes. Loneliness, uncertainty, and stark need were there for her to see, but what broke her heart was the tentative, desperate hope. It was impossible not to love him, impossible not to want him, and to hurt him was unthinkable. She knew what she wanted. Her resistance evaporated and a slow smile lit her face. She held out her hand. “Come, then.”
It was salvation. He was a greedy fool, a selfish fool, indeed an unworthy and witless fool, but not fool enough to refuse.
She pulled him up, stronger than she looked, and led him back to the warm bed he’d spent so many nights imagining, the past three weeks at sea. She brushed back his hair with her fingers and trailing soft kisses down his jaw pushed him gently back onto her bed. Following him down, she lowered herself against him, enveloping him in softness, warmth, and Sarah. “There,” she sighed contentedly, kissing his brow and giving him a possessive hug, “you’re back where you belong. “Now tell me, Gabe, do you truly believe I think so little of you?”
“I know you care, Sarah. I’m not a fool. You could have any man you wanted, but you choose me. You’ve given me your trust and friendship. You’ve welcomed me into your home, your life, even your bed.” He curled alongside her, cradling her in his arms. “You breathe life into me. I go to sleep wanting to know what will happen tomorrow. I look at the sky and see mystery and magic. I feel the sword dance in my hand and I feel alive. It’s all you, Sarah. When I’m with you, I feel like I’ve been born into another life, where I have friends and a future, and a
sweetheart who makes me drunk and wild with kisses she saves only for me. I feel healthy and happy and at peace. I never dared dream of such things. I know I act the fool at times and try your patience. It’s just that, every time I look in your eyes, I can see the man that you see, and I can’t believe he’s really me. I’m so afraid of disappointing you.”
“Oh, Gabe!” she murmured, tears in her eyes. “Trust me. You are the man I see. You’ve lived inside yourself so long you’ve lost perspective. I know you’re not perfect. Neither am I. You can be very arrogant and difficult, particularly when you’re angry.” Warming to the topic, she began to enumerate with her fingers. “Sometimes, when you drink too much, you lie snoring with your mouth agape. It’s very unattractive. Sometimes you can be positively missish—”
“Missish!”
“Oh, yes, you’re as bad as Ross sometimes. You can also be prickly, and you’re over-quick to take offense. Sometimes you’re very rude, and Lord knows you can be moody. You use very bad, very foul language, and I swear—mmmphhh—”
He held his fingers over her mouth to stop her. “Enough,” he said dryly, “I take your point.”
“Well, I’m certain there are things about me that you must find annoying.”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“Come now, Gabe, there’s no need to be diplomatic. I will survive it. Do try. There must be something.”
He furrowed his brow, honestly flummoxed. “I swear, Sarah … no … wait … Yes! Your nightgown! I hate that god-awful thing! It’s horrendous, frightful, appalling.”
“What? But it’s very comfortable!”
“It looks like something an ancient crone would wear. When I see you in it and find myself lusting after you, it makes me decidedly uncomfortable. It should be burned!”
“Hmph!”
“Well, you insisted. Now you know.” He lay back, gazing at the ceiling with her head nestled against his shoulder. Caught up in his own worries, fears, and desires, he hadn’t spared a thought for how the changes in their relationship might be affecting her. She must be as anxious and as confused as he was. He’d been a selfish idiot, and he was fortunate, indeed, she was such a patient woman.
“Better now?”
He gifted her with a lazy smile, his eyes warm and tender. “Much … go to sleep now, Sarah.”
“But I don’t want to go to sleep,” she protested, her fingers tracing his lips.
He pulled her close. “Nothing needs to change, mignonne. I’m sorry. I behaved like a child, a selfish ass. As you said, arrogant, and quick to take offense, and—”
“Shhh! Gabriel,” she interrupted. “Kiss me, please.”
He looked into eyes filled with invitation, warm with promise. “Sarah, no, sweetheart. So much has happened … Christ, I—”
Sarah leaned forward, breathing soft against his skin, trailing fluttering kisses, hungry and sweet along his bristled jaw, his cheekbones, and the lobe of his ear. Her fingers trailed through his hair, untangling it, and then curled around the back of his neck, drawing him forward into a searching kiss. “Let me love you, Gabe,” she whispered.
He gasped as she trailed her fingers across his chest, brushing his nipples as she reached for his shirt, tugging at it.
“I want to touch you.”
He moaned low in his throat, and shifted awkwardly, heart hammering, as she pulled it off his shoulders.
Her hands roamed his chest as she’d been longing to do for months, soft smooth skin stretched taut over iron-hard bands of muscle. “I want to taste you.” She kissed his shoulder and ran her tongue along his collarbone and throat as he shuddered beneath her. “I want to please you.” When she brushed his abdomen, his whole body jerked beneath her.
“Enough, mignonne,” he said hoarsely, reaching for her hands and shifting her to his side. He was raging with need, erect and throbbing, aching for her touch. “Jesus, sweetheart, have mercy. I’m only a man. We can’t play this game. I can’t play this game.”
“It’s not a game, Gabriel. I love you. I want you, and I want to make love with you. I thought you wanted that, too.”
“I did … I do … You don’t know. You don’t understand … Jesus, Sarah! I’ve never made love with a woman. I just … I have sex … It’s not the same. You deserve so much better than that.”
“Well, I expect it will come to you, much like kissing did. You turned out to be wonderful at that.”
“I don’t know if I want to do this with you, mignonne.” Christ, what a hypocrite he was! He’d lusted after her for months, taking her in his dreams over and over again. He’d practically begged her earlier, thrown a tantrum when she’d hesitated, and now the moment was here, he was afraid. All of his sexual interactions had been forced, or bought and paid for. He was afraid she would finally see him for the whore he really was. Afraid he would become one, right in front of her eyes. “Sarah, I don’t know how.”
“Then let me show you, Gabriel. Trust me as I trust you.” Cool fingers traced his jaw, soothing, stroking, and turning him toward her kiss. He shuddered as she moved her hot mouth over the column of his throat, her tongue feeling his pulse as her curious fingers skimmed featherlight across his chest, brushing his nipples. Lips followed fingers. Using the same principles she’d earlier applied to kissing, Sarah tugged gently at his nipple with her teeth, and then stroked it with her tongue.
He’d been trained to give exquisite pleasure to others. No one had ever paid to pleasure him, and Sarah was introducing him to feelings and sensations he’d not known he possessed. He struggled to stay still, struggled not to weep as her exploration continued with teeth and tongue, silken lips and wicked fingers, stroking and soothing, teasing and gentle. He hissed when her fingers brushed against his belly, and almost jerked off the bed when, clumsy and uncertain, they brushed the erection straining against his breeches as she sought to work on the fastenings.
“Merde, woman, you will unman me,” he snapped, hurriedly twisting and tugging to release himself.
Her eyes widened when his organ sprang free. It was huge, potent, nestled in a thicket of dark wiry hair, veined and bulging and straining wildly. She had only seen her husband’s, flaccid and puny, but still capable of causing her humiliation and pain. She held her hand out to touch it, looking into his eyes, asking permission. He nodded, his breath held tight. She tapped it experimentally and smiled when it leapt to her touch. She ran her fingers along its length, up and down, stroking and squeezing, feeling him shudder beneath her hands. He moaned as if in pain.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered shyly, “soft and strong, smooth and hard, all at the same time.” She bent to kiss him.
Gabriel felt as if he would shatter under her touch. It thrilled him with an intensity he’d never known. He jerked his pelvis, desperate for contact, wanting her lips and tongue, at the same time remembering other hands, other mouths, other nights. He felt a sharp and acrid twist of shame before he mastered himself, prepared to perform. She would not find him lacking.
“Take off your gown, mignonne,” he ordered, voice low and seductive, eyes glazed with lust. She looked at him, wary of something in his voice, but she reached down and pulled her much-maligned nightgown over her head, blushing as she knelt on the bed, naked between his legs. He captured her head between his hands and pulled her to him, guiding her back to his swollen penis. Uncomfortable, sensing something different about him, she pulled away.
Letting her go with a knowing smile, he lowered his hands, a predatory glint in his eyes, and brushed her nipples with his fingers. Catching them between fingers and palm he began to roll them gently, squeezing and tugging as she leaned into him, moaning with pleasure. “You like that, chère, do you not? You are hot and wet and for me, yes?” He moved a hand between her legs, stroking the throbbing entrance between her thighs with skillful fingers as she writhed and squirmed, blushing in embarrassment and pleasure. She cried out when he gripped her nub between his thumb and forefinger, tugging it with one hand a
s his other continued to tug at her nipple. “Tell me what you want, chère,” he whispered. “Tell me what to do. I’m here to please you.”
She sensed his absence, knew he was far away. She had felt the metamorphosis when he had changed, no longer her Gabriel, but the other. She wanted to reach into him somehow, find him and pull him back. Pushing his hands away, she trapped his jaw and leaned in for a kiss. When his lips touched hers, she grasped a hank of his hair and tugged. “Stay with me, Gabriel! I can feel it when you leave.” His eyes cleared and he pulled her close. He didn’t pretend not to understand.
“If you’re going to make love to me, you have to stay with me, Gabe,” she said gently.
“I don’t know if I can, Sarah. I told you, I know how to fuck, not how to make love.”
“Well, you were doing just fine until a moment ago. If you don’t like what I’m doing, just tell me to stop. Don’t leave me there all by myself.”
“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Did I … was I … Did I offend you?”
“No, you were wicked and wonderful. It’s just that your voice was odd, and your eyes were … well, you just seemed so far away.”
Relieved, he sank back into the pillows, then clutched for the covers, red-faced as he realized that he was more than half-naked, shirtless, with his still-erect member bulging from his open breeches.
She reached out quickly and snatched the blanket away from him. “Come now, Gabriel, that’s not fair! I’m here naked as the day I was born. If I am, you should be, as well.”
“Or you could dress yourself, mignonne.”
“I don’t want to dress myself.” she said with a playful pout, trailing her fingers back and forth across his chest. “I’m curious. I’ve never seen a man completely naked. If you truly cared for me you would satisfy my curiosity.”
