Bound By Marriage(16)

His lips met the curve of her neck even as the hardness of his arousal  thrust against her, further electrifying senses saturated almost past  bearing. "Gabe."

It was a plea.

He ran his lips along the shell of one ear. "Hold your dress for me."

Once again, she knew she shouldn't obey, shouldn't give in to him. He'd  destroy her defenses when she needed them so desperately tonight. But  her hands were moving before the thought ended, her body a stranger to  her will. Letting her take over the task, he ran his hands up along her  sides and then, to her surprise, pulled back.

Feeling oddly ambivalent about the reprieve, she motioned to drop the  hem. He pressed against her once more. "Hold it." A soft command coated  with the authority of a man used to giving them.

She scowled. "Why?"

"Because I'm otherwise occupied." He nudged her gently forward until she stood in front of the mirror.

"What-?"

"This." He strung something cool and beautiful around her neck.

"Gabe!" The glitter of the teardrop emerald flickered in the mirror, its  brightness cradled by the soft darkness of the valley between her  breasts.

Closing the clasp, Gabe stroked his fingers along the gold of the  necklace to pick up the emerald. His knuckles brushed the upper curve of  her breast, causing her to hold her breath until he replaced the  pendant in the valley for which it seemed tailor-made.

"Beautiful." One of his hands came to rest on her hip.

"I can't-" she began, stunned at the expensive gift.

"No arguments." Moving around her, he leaned his body against the vanity and pulled her into the vee of his thighs.

She finally dropped the hem. "Why? We're fighting." Her hand drifted to the cool beauty of the emerald.

In response, he ran his own hands up under her dress, shocking a short,  ultimately feminine sound out of her. Releasing the emerald, she braced  herself against his shoulders.

"You're my wife," he said, as if that was reason enough.

"But you've-"

He kissed the words from her lips, his hands sliding around the back of  her thighs to cup her bottom. His hold was incredibly intimate and when  he pulled her closer, she went, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His fingers traced the edge of her panties. "What color?" he asked against her mouth.

"Black." Her heart slammed into her ribs with punishing force. There was  something very possessive in Gabriel's eyes tonight, something untamed  and wild and all the more exhilarating for it. Her next words came from a  part of her that she hadn't known existed until this moment. "And so is  the bra. A matching set."                       
       
           



       

He smiled and it was so slow and satisfied, her stomach tumbled.  "Jessica darling, are you trying to make us late to the party? Your way  of winning our little stand-off?"

In truth, she'd forgotten about it. "You're the one who interrupted me."  She was blindingly conscious of one of his hands moving to the front of  her body.





Chapter 10





"So I did," he murmured, reclaiming her lips even as his hand pushed  aside the gusset of her panties to thrust two fingers deep into a body  more than primed by the slow seduction. Pleasure erupted inside her  almost instantaneously. Pulling away from the ravaging fury of his  mouth, she threw back her head and rode his fingers, feeling herself  clench and unclench with vicious strength. She was on the verge of an  explosive climax when he withdrew them.

Dazed, she swayed on her feet as he switched position to stand behind her.

Instinct made her brace her hands on the vanity, her hair a tumbling  mess around her face. When she raised her hand to push it back, she  caught sight of the primal intensity driving Gabe-her husband was not in  control tonight. That was all the warning she got before he shoved up  her dress and slid inside her.

Crying out, she tried to move with him, but his rhythm was too fast for  her to follow. "Please, please, please." The whimpers were so needy she  couldn't believe they were her own.

Gabe's arm came around her waist and his teeth scraped lightly over the sensitive skin of her neck. "Now, Jess. Now!"

She fractured under the command, everything female in her glorying in  the wildness of that harsh masculine voice. At the last second, their  eyes met in the mirror and Jess knew they'd crossed a line. The question  was, what lay on the other side?

They were forty minutes late to the party. Jess's dress had been  wrinkled beyond repair, so after a quick shower shared with a  surprisingly playful Gabe, she'd put on a fitting pencil skirt and thin  V-neck cardigan, both in black. The pendant glowed against her flushed  skin. Gabe had insisted she put her stockings back on and she'd  acquiesced-she liked the idea of him thinking her sexy, especially since  Sylvie was going to be around.

Gabe's shirt, on the other hand, had emerged magically unscathed and  he'd pulled it back on. It was only as they were walking through  Sylvie's door that Jess realized the color almost perfectly matched his  eyes. She scowled. Gabe might be wealthy and powerful, but he was also a  man's man-fashion was not in his repertoire. The fact that he'd chosen  something with that much care for Sylvie's party, stuck in her craw,  dispelling what remained of the sensual afterglow.

The birthday girl beamed at Gabe, giving him a kiss on the cheek in  return for his gift of a bottle of premier wine. "That green does  wonderful things for your eyes, darling."

Jess wondered if it would be catty to ask why she didn't deserve a  welcome kiss, too. Amused by the thought, she leaned into Gabe's hold.  Sylvie's eyes went straight to the emerald. She covered it well but Jess  glimpsed a definite spark of anger. And no matter how petty it was,  that reaction made her very happy.

"I can't take any of the credit. Jess is the one responsible."

Jess was so startled by Gabe's comment she couldn't say a word.

"I didn't know you had such a good eye." Sylvie gave her a bright smile  that could have cut glass. "You're always so … simply dressed."

"I prefer to leave things to the imagination." Jess smiled and pointedly  avoided glancing at the plunging neckline of her rival's very short  black dress. The irritating thing was that Sylvie looked sexy when  anyone else wearing that outfit would have crossed the line into trashy.

Thankfully, another late arrival entered behind them and they were able to move on.

"What did you mean about me being responsible?" she asked the second they were out of earshot.

He raised an eyebrow. "Last year, my birthday."

"Oh." Now she remembered sending him that spontaneous gift. "I wasn't sure I got the size right." Or that he'd even like it.

He ran his knuckles down her cheek. "Obviously you were keeping an eye on my body long before you left."

Blushing, she couldn't help but recall their wild encounter in front of  her mirror. Gabe smiled and reached over to pick up two flutes of wine  from the tray of a passing waiter.

Jess found her wits quickly. "Actually, can I have juice?"

He switched her drink and handed it over. "I thought you liked white wine."

"I don't feel like it tonight," she lied, wondering how long it would  take him to figure out why she didn't want to drink. Gabe had a mind  more efficient than many a computer but maybe this one time he'd be  blind for a little while longer.                       
       
           



       

At that moment, a landowner Jess knew only vaguely walked over. "Gabriel, I've been wanting to talk to you."

Smiling at the man's wife, Jess made small talk for a few minutes before  another couple joined them and picked up the conversational ball. It  left her free to observe and the foremost thing she noticed was that she  was standing in the midst of the most powerful people in the room.

The second was that even the older ones looked to Gabe for advice, their  respect for him far deeper than she'd ever realized. For the first  time, she had a misgiving about their marriage unconnected to Gabe's  inability to offer the slightest crumb of tenderness.

Although she'd grown up on a station, it had been a very small one and  her father had never taught her the business side of things. Neither was  she an accomplished hostess or conversationalist, when it was patent  that Gabe needed all those things in his wife. She wouldn't go so far as  to call herself a country bumpkin, but she was moving in social circles  way beyond her own.

"Everything all right here?" Sylvie slid into the group on Gabe's other side.

"It's a fabulous party," one of the older women exclaimed. "The perfect mix of people."