Sweet Madness: A Veiled Seduction Novel (19 page)

And he took her lips again. She let him. Because despite her lingering worries, right now she felt
alive.
And powerful, too. And hopeful, not only for him but for herself. She didn’t want that feeling to end until it absolutely had to.

She broke from the kiss to turn once again in his arms, her decision made. “Help me out of my stays,” she commanded, her voice gone husky.

He hesitated for a moment, as if not believing she meant to let him touch her again, but then his fingers flew over her lacings, pulling them free of their holes. When he’d finished, she turned ever so slowly, allowing him to peel the stays from her body. When she pulled her chemise over her head, it left her standing only in her stockings and slippers.

Gabriel’s eyes roamed over her hungrily, seeming to singe her skin wherever his gaze lingered. She reached out to untie his cravat, which while decidedly askew, was still knotted. For that matter, his trousers were still puddled around his ankles because the man still wore his boots. Penelope couldn’t stifle a laugh.

Gabriel glanced down at himself, then back at her, the wry half grin she was beginning to adore lifting his lips. “A ridiculous pair we make,” he said. “You in only your stockings and garters and me mostly dressed.”

“I would say we made a perfectly pleasurable pairing,” she teased, enjoying the flash of heat in his eyes. “But I do think, for comparison’s sake, we should both be naked, don’t you?”

With that, she tugged at his cravat again. Together they managed to rid each other of their remaining attire, issuing small kisses or touches as they went about the pleasurable task. Hovering over each small caress were questions and doubts, almost as if they hung in the air between them: Was she making a terrible mistake becoming Gabriel’s lover? Would she end up harming him? Or was he correct, that strengthening their bond in this way might benefit them both?

She couldn’t know. She only knew that this felt more right than anything she’d done in years.

When they were both completely bare, Penelope stretched up to kiss Gabriel once again. Dear Lord, it was ever so much better to flatten her body against his when nothing lay between them. His body was well developed. Taut skin, covered with a light dusting of hair, stretched over lean muscle. When he moved against her, gooseflesh prickled her skin—not in a cold way, but in warm, pleasurable shivers as his body brushed hers.

He let her take his lips once . . . twice . . . as he sent his hands skimming over her back, stroking lower over her bottom and then back up again. But just as she was about to deepen her kiss, he moved to tuck his face into her neck as his arms tightened around her.

“Wait, Pen,” he said, though at least his breathing was as labored as hers. “Damn me for a fool for saying this, but . . .” He pulled back so that he could see her face. His body vibrated with leashed tension. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

He could be asking so many things with that seemingly innocent question—things about them, things about the future. Whatever he meant, his concern for her feelings filled her heart with warmth. Well, she was certain of only one thing: that she wanted this—
him
—right now. And that was all that mattered. She framed his face, lightly running her fingers over his austere features as she pulled his face down to whisper, “Yes,” against his lips before she captured his mouth with her own.

Gabriel felt the dizzying rush of desire flood him, Penelope having broken through the floodgates he’d erected with that one breathy word—
yes.

Some small distant part of him was still slightly troubled, but it was drowned by the sea of undiluted pleasure coursing through him. Whatever providence had conspired to make Penelope his, if even for a moment, he would not tempt it with worries.

But he would, by God, take her properly in a bed. He ran his hand down her arm and caught her wrist, tugging her gently toward it. She came willingly, even allowing him to lift her body and place her seated on the edge of the bed, although she’d gripped his head and refused to relinquish his tongue in the process.

Not that he wished to take it back from her. Ever.

His hands slid to her knees, and he spread them just enough to step between them. Her warm, silky thighs closed around his hips as they held each other there for a moment, mouths blending and merging, her seated on the tall bed and he standing. Her arms were thrown around his neck, her hands moving in his hair in strokes that were both relaxing and arousing. His own arms were wrapped around her waist, leaving his fingers free to caress her back and hips at will.

But her delving kisses were too much, too erotic. Already lust poured through him, and he’d be damned if he would lose his control and take her quickly once again. He disengaged from her questing lips and slid one hand up to her nape, dropping his mouth to her neck and finding her rapid pulse with his tongue.

It fluttered frantically beneath her skin, a tempo matched by his own. He had to find a way to slow them both down. He was determined to savor her this time, as she’d be a fool to ever let him into her bed again.

Sweet Penelope, his at last. He leaned back to simply take in the sight of her, burning it to his memory. Her form leaned more to the fit than the voluptuous, though while her breasts were not ample, he thought them perfect. Their tips were pale and soft and pink, and he imagined they tasted like heaven. He decided to find out.

He slipped a hand beneath one of her bare breasts, enjoying the weight of it in his palm. He lifted it just enough to meet his descending mouth and opened to suckle her gently.

A small gasp reached his ear even as her nipple beaded against his tongue. Fire shot through him at this tangible taste of her desire. She was sensitive there, he realized, and so he pressed his tongue more roughly over the tight little bud. Penelope quivered in his arms, encouraging him all the more. He brought his other hand to her neglected breast, kneading and teasing it to let it know it was next on his list of pleasurable experiences.

As he continued to tease her breasts, her hands moved upon him. At first they clenched in his hair, pressing his mouth tighter to her chest as his tongue traced circles on her heated skin. But then he felt a hand sliding down his side, slipping between them. Slender fingers curled around his straining erection, and he froze with pleasure, his groan muffled by her breast.

A ragged sound escaped him as she pressed a firm stroke down his length, the skin of her palm dragging along his shaft with a friction that threatened his best intentions. He pulled himself back from her and stepped away, out of reach of her eager hands. “Christ, Pen.” He laughed. “If you keep touching me like that, it will all be over too soon.”

Her head tilted as her unfocused gaze settled on him with . . . confusion? “Isn’t that . . . ?” Her brow furrowed as she struggled to verbalize her thoughts. “Don’t you want . . . ?” she tried again, unsuccessfully.

Understanding washed over him, cooling his ardor just enough for him to be able to think properly.

He’d been a little shocked, he had to admit, by her uninhibited response to him, first in the carriage and then a few moments ago. No, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t so much her unconstrained sensuality that had surprised him. She’d been married before and obviously enjoyed the act of love. It was the speed with which she gained it.

And he realized something he should have seen before. She didn’t realize that lovemaking could be slow and sensual. It made perfect sense. Her husband had possessed a manic energy in everything that he did. That had to have spilled over into their bedchamber, resulting in quick, vigorous couplings. Penelope was like a Thoroughbred, trained to race for her pleasure the moment the gates opened.

God, he should have seen it before. But she’d driven him so very wild with lust that he’d missed the signs.

He watched her now, her lithe body breathing heavily, her nipples hard and straining, her body humming with an energy he sensed with an answering part of himself—one he ruthlessly tamped as the tantalizing possibilities unfolded before him.

Who knew what lay ahead of them . . . him, her. Who knew if he would ever be whole enough to go after what he wanted—a life with her. But he did know one thing. In this, at least, he had something to offer. He could teach her what pleasure truly was and open her mind to everything she could have in that realm.

“I very much
do
want,” he assured her. “However, all I want
you
to do is to relax and let me touch you.”

A delicate vee appeared between her brows, and the cloud of passion cleared a bit in her gaze. “I’m sorry?”

“Just trust me,” he said as he stepped back into the cradle of her thighs. He grasped her wrist when she reached for his manhood once again and moved her hand gently behind her. “I get to touch
you
,” he reminded her. “Not the other way around.”

Darling Pen tugged her lower lip between her teeth, but she nodded slowly in understanding.

Lust rocketed through him. If she only understood what he meant to do . . . He was going to take this slowly, draw out every bit of pleasure in her body until she was writhing with it. All of this before he took her. If this were the only time he got this chance, he intended for her to remember it. He raised his hand to stroke her face.

Penelope trembled at Gabriel’s light touch. There was a determined heat in his eyes that warmed her whole center. She had to clench her hands into fists to obey his dictate not to touch. Lord, how she wanted to pull him into her so he could fulfill her rising need.

But it was clear he had something else in mind entirely. He stroked the curve of her cheek with a single fingertip. Her every nerve was so sensitized with desire that she felt even that tiny stroke deep in her middle. Her breath sped as he lifted her chin, tilting her head back for his kiss.

Yes, she thought, opening for him even as she tried to press her own tongue into his. He gently pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and she understood she wasn’t even to touch him with her mouth. Penelope wanted to growl with frustration, but she ceased her foray.

Gabriel’s tongue slowed, coaxed. The tip brushed her teeth, clipped in to explore the soft lining of her cheek, the underside of her tongue, the sensitive roof of her mouth. Slow, languorous kisses that made her light-headed while at the same time ratcheted up the desire within her.

She couldn’t resist pulling his hands to her breasts in a bid to get him to touch her again. He complied but with such infuriating slowness that she arched against him with frustrated longing.

“Shhh, my love,” he crooned against her. “Be patient. I promise you it will be worth it in the end.”

Penelope groaned. Now, what did he mean by that? At this rate, she’d never last until the end.

He continued to take her mouth in long kisses that drew a strange pleasure up from her mons straight through to her mouth . . . drugging, it was. Sensuously wicked. His hands slid into her hair, massaging and caressing in a way that both soothed and set her further on edge. A harsh breath escaped him, and she knew that despite his restraint, he was closer to that same edge than he let on.

She could push him over it, she knew. She’d proven that. He might be angry with her after, but at least it would quench this burning inside. She could beg forgiveness later.

And yet . . . the slow boiling that built within her intrigued her. A part of her yearned to know exactly
what
would be worth the wait. So she kept her hands clenched by her sides.

His hands moved to her breasts again, and Penelope almost cried out with the sharp pleasure of it. Who knew those small mounds could bring her such delight? And then the devil bit down lightly on her hardened nipple, sending a bolt of electricity shooting straight to her core. She couldn’t resist clutching at him then, holding his head to her breast as he alternated suckling, nipping and tonguing her. She whimpered with pleasure, writhing in his arms.

“Lie back, love,” he whispered.

Oh, thank goodness. He would come to her now, fill her with the powerful thrusts that would drive her to completion. She dropped back to the coverlet with profound relief.

He didn’t join her on the bed, but rather tugged at her hips and slid her to the very edge of the mattress. Odd positioning, but she didn’t care if he wanted to stand, as long as he took her now.

But instead of stepping between her thighs, he spread them wider and dropped to his knees on the floor. She raised her head, but he shushed her as his fingers found her wetness and stroked the plump, silken flesh.

Her body jerked and sizzled with longing, arching off of the bed as he found the tender peak of her sex with his questing fingers. He rubbed gently, circling, tugging. “Oh!” she gasped as sensation pulled in from the rest of her body to center there.

Then he brushed the swollen bud with his thumb as he deftly slid two fingers inside of her. The sensation was so close . . . so close to what she wanted but not nearly enough. She tossed her head from side to side as her breath shortened further.

“You’re torturing me,” she accused on a groan.

“Not yet,” he breathed, and the very sound sent gooseflesh prickling over her flushed skin.

His fingers found a rhythm counterpoint to his circling thumb, and all Penelope could do was twist and writhe as the tension within her mounted. Despite his pressing digits, she felt empty inside. Why would he not just take her?

And then a shocking jolt of desire speared her as his tongue took the place of his thumb.
“Gabriel,”
she cried out as his mouth took her in a way she’d never before experienced. Her hands clenched and unclenched, twisting the counterpane mercilessly as he lashed her with his tongue—flat, hard strokes against her clitoris—and then replaced his fingers to delve inside her.

Penelope trembled as pleasure spiraled upward from her middle, pulling her into an arching tightness like an invisible string that threatened to snap and send her spinning. Gabriel was no longer touching her gently, but driving her toward release with relentless licks and strokes.