A Night with the Bride(17)

“Have you ever tried? To stop them, I mean,” she said. “My uncle had something similar, I believe, and he was able to manage—”

He stopped his pacing and turned to her. “Gabriella, listen to me. I cannot be cured.” She wanted to save him, but it was important for her to know he could not be saved. If his mother couldn’t be saved, then there was no hope for him, either.

Gabriella rose from the bed and walked over to him. On her tiptoes, she pressed a chaste kiss to his nose. “I accept you exactly as you are.”

His chest tightened. “Think about what you are saying.”

“I have,” she said. “You are not alone, Nicholas. I am here with you.”

He swallowed back the emotion those words conjured. Fear had prevented him from allowing anyone close to his heart. For thirty years, he’d struggled alone in silence. But in the span of two days, Gabriella had managed to shoulder past his barriers and into his heart.

Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he murmured, “Well, you’ve certainly earned your kiss now, haven’t you?”

Tilting her chin up, he captured her lips in a deep, soul-gripping kiss. She moaned sweetly as his tongue stroked the inside of her mouth, exploring her, drinking her in. She tasted like decadence and hot, passionate desire.

Rubbing her little minx body against his, the tempo of their kiss intensified, feeding his hunger. He burned for her. Only her. He needed to be inside her, pumping his hot seed into her sweet little body, claiming her in the most primal, elemental way possible.

Biting her lower lip, he pulled away. “I need to be inside you, Gabriella.”

“Yes.” Her eyes shimmered with emotion. “I need it, too.”

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His eyes met hers, and that familiar swirl of heat began to build in her chest, then outward to her limbs. He was intoxicating. Just being near him was dangerously alluring. “But, Gabriella, I can’t take this without—”

“—marriage,” she finished for him. In all her years, she’d never expected it to come quite like this. She’d always imagined something wildly romantic—at a ball, on the terrace, beneath a pearl-white moon, the gentleman would get down on one knee and declare his love for her…

He lifted her chin and forced her to look at him. “My name. My fortune.” With his thumb, he brushed her lower lip, gentle, reverent. “My soul, Gabriella. I’m offering them all to you. Marry me.”

And just like that, she melted for him. The simple, soft-spoken words curled around her heart and squeezed, taking root in her soul. More than anything, she wanted to give herself over to him, belong to him. It was the most certain she’d felt about anything in her life.

“Yes.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Yes, I will marry you.”

He smiled and leaned in, his lips hovering over hers. “You are so beautiful, and you’re mine.” He nipped her lower lip. “Say you are mine, Gabriella.” One hand settled on her breast; the other curved over her hip and settled on her backside. “Say it.” His tone was low, commanding.

Heat pooled low in her belly and spread through her limbs. “I’m yours, Nicholas.”

Within a breath, his lips were devouring hers. Swept away by Nicholas’s hot, passionate kiss, her legs nearly buckled beneath her. He supported her with his strength, kissing, squeezing, unleashing a torrent of want and desire that threatened to consume her.

He released her mouth and spread kisses along her jawline, down the column of her throat, to the high neckline. Without pause, he grasped the fabric and ripped her nightgown open, to her navel. The remnants slithered down her hips, over her thighs, and pooled at her feet.

Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her breasts. Embarrassment flooded her, and suddenly every flaw, every blemish, was magnified in her mind.

“Lower your arms,” he said, his tone dark, dripping with command. “I want to see you. All of you.”

She licked her lips and let her arms fall to her sides. His hungry gaze raked over her, from head to foot, settling on the V between her thighs. “I’m going to fuck you, Gabriella. And once I’m inside you, I won’t stop. So tell me now if this isn’t what you want.”

“It’s what I want.” She met his gaze. “You are what I want.”

His lips quirked up into a mischievous half smile as he untied his cravat. “Do you trust me?”

She swallowed. What a question to ask at this particular moment. “Of course I do.”

He unwound the cravat from his neck, snapping the length of fabric as it pulled free. “Good.” He flicked his chin in the direction of the huge, four-poster bed. “Get back on the bed.”