Rules for Reforming a Rake(119)

He would always want her.

She was everything his heart was missing.

“Sweet heaven,” she whispered, her breath soft and voice aching, “you feel so good inside me.”

He thrust and tasted and ran his hands along her warm skin, his fingers skimming across her engorged, pink nipples, and then his mouth closed over one of those hard, pink tips, licking and teasing until she was once again breathless and moaning his name. His thrusts came faster, his kisses deeper, hotter, harder until he felt her shudder and heard the soft glory of her ecstasy. Her body strained, she cried out again and begged him not to stop, not ever, and fisted her hands in his hair. He felt the thump, thump, thump of her heart against his lips, then felt and heard nothing but the slow, building roar of his release, a crashing wave of pleasure that slammed and dipped and slammed within his body, lifting him in a great, heaving motion heavenward and holding him there for an exquisite eternity until all was spent—his seed spilled and his member throbbing against Daisy’s thigh.

His voice was hoarse and raspy as he grunted his pleasure.

Daisy laughed. “Magic.”

He grunted again, rolling her atop him so that her creamy breasts molded to his hot, damp chest. So good. So perfect. He wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze. She grinned, waiting for him to agree. “Aye, sweetheart. It was magic.”

“I love you, Gabriel.”

The wind blew gently through her dark hair. He kissed her again... and again… and lower because he couldn’t get enough of her… and then his tongue found the sweet heat between her thighs. He stroked and swirled as she clutched the sheets and moaned his name. He caressed her until she throbbed and soared against his lips, her love for him a treasured memory for the harrowing months ahead.


***

Sunlight streamed through the open window and glistened off Gabriel’s gold hair. Daisy was still in his arms, floating in his arms to be precise, for she felt as light as a cloud and so happy, even though she understood this perfect moment could not last. He would leave soon. She refused to think about it. There was nothing she could do to stop him.

She absently stroked the gold hairs that glistened on his forearms, breathed in the mix of salt and musk against his hot, damp skin. They were spooned together, her back to his chest, and she savored the protective strength of his arms around her body.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, turning her so that they faced each other, her breasts once again molding to his rock hard chest. He was big and muscled and perfect. She traced the scar across his brow, then delicately traced the welt on his shoulder where the shot fired in Hyde Park had struck him. Only a graze, he’d said. Apparently, that’s all it was, though it had drawn his blood and would leave a red, puckered scar. Even his scars were perfect, not that she’d ever wanted him to suffer. But the hard years had molded him into the man he was today.

The man she desperately loved.

“I’m thinking that I’m glad Laurel and my father put a pistol to your head and made you marry me.”

He let out a deep, throaty laugh. “There was no pistol. I volunteered, if you will recall. I would have offered for you eventually, perhaps not at that moment. You know that, don’t you?” His mirth subsided and he turned serious. “I need you to know that no one forced me to marry you.”

She nodded.

Another moment passed, the two lazily nestled in each other’s arms, Gabriel running his fingers in a soft swirl against her skin. She clung to him, her hand gripping his big, muscled shoulder because she never wanted to let him go. She would have to soon. She sensed him shifting away before he spoke, and then he turned to her. “Sweetheart, I have to go.”

Her eyes misted.

“I want you to smile for me. Be brave for me... a little while longer. I couldn’t bear it if you cried.”

She nodded again, though she doubted he was convinced.

He ran a hand raggedly through his hair. An unruly lock curled over his forehead. Another curled at the nape of his neck, just below his ear. “Promise me that you’ll lead a happy life, no matter what happens or whatever you hear over the next few months.”

She did, promising all he asked because it was important for him to believe she would manage life without him.

He sat up, threw his long legs over the edge of the bed, and glanced out the window again. “You had better get dressed. Major Brandt and Ian will be back soon. How do you feel?”

She cast him a tender smile. “Splendidly aglow.”

He leaned forward and gently kissed her on the nose. “Yes, it was pretty damn fantastic. However, I meant how does your leg feel?”