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“Really? I wonder what Prince Albert used to think about? It couldn’t have been the Queen—they had nine children together.” As Pandora continued to chatter, Gabriel spread the sides of the nightgown open and kissed the tender valley between her breasts. Her fingers fidgeted at the back of his neck. “Do you suppose it was something like educational reform? Or Parliamentary procedure, or—”
“Shhh.” He found the tracery of a blue vein in the alabaster glow of her skin, and touched it with his tongue. “I want to talk about how beautiful you are. About how you smell like white flowers and open windows and spring rain. About how soft and sweet you are . . . so sweet . . .” His mouth wandered over the gentle curve of her breast, and Pandora jerked, her breath stopping. A rush of excitement flooded him as he sensed her awakening pleasure. His lips traversed her chest in a pattern of lightly grazing touches. Reaching the pink bud of a nipple, he parted his lips and drew it into the hot interior of his mouth. He circled and teased with the tip of his tongue until the peak was textured and velvety.
His mind was swimming with thoughts of the endless ways he wanted to take her, the desires he longed to satisfy. It took all his self-control to caress her slowly, deliberately, when he wanted to devour her. But everything was new to her, every intimacy unnerving, and he would be patient if it killed him. As he licked and tugged gently, he heard a frayed whimper in her throat. She touched his shoulders and chest hesitantly, as if she didn’t know where to put her hands.
Lifting his head, he found her lips and possessed them hungrily. “Pandora,” he said when the kiss broke, “you can touch me any way you’d like. You can do anything that pleases you.”
She gave him a long, wondering gaze. Her fingers went tentatively to the white necktie that hung loosely on either side of his open collar. At his lack of objection, she pulled it free and reached down to the fastenings of his low-cut silk waistcoat. He moved to help her, removing the garment and dropping it to the floor. Next she unbuttoned the placket of his shirt to where it ended mid-chest. Staring at the triangular notch at the base of his throat as if riveted, she leaned forward to kiss him there.
“Why do you like that place?” Gabriel asked, his heart slamming against his ribs as he felt the delicate lap of her tongue.
“I don’t know.” Her smile curled against his skin. “It seems made for my—” She paused. “For kissing.”
Closing his hand in her hair, he guided her to meet his gaze. “For your kisses,” he said gruffly, ceding ownership of the spot whether she wanted it or not.
Her inquisitive hands explored the contours of his torso and chest. Carefully her fingers slipped beneath the straps of the braces that went over his shoulders and eased them down. It was the most erotic torture Gabriel had ever experienced, disciplining himself to stay still while Pandora took inventory of this new masculine territory. She kissed the side of his neck and played with the hair on his chest. Finding the flat circle of a male nipple, she rubbed the pad of her thumb over it, raising a tiny aroused point. Growing bolder, she maneuvered over him in a tangle of coltish limbs, trying to press closer, until one of her knees jabbed perilously close to his groin. Hastily he reached down to grasp her hips. “Careful, love. You don’t want me to spend the rest of the evening in a sobbing heap on the sofa.”
“Did I hurt you?” Pandora asked anxiously, subsiding on his lap.
“No, but for men, that place is . . .” Gabriel broke off with a primal grunt as he felt her straddling him. The feel of it was so scorching, so exquisitely incendiary, that he found himself only a few heartbeats away from release. His hands tightened on her hips to keep her still, while he closed his eyes with a quiet curse. Any movement at all on her part, if only to lift away from him, would cause him to erupt like a stripling lad with his first woman.
“Oh,” he heard Pandora exclaim softly. Her thighs tensed on either side of his. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Hold still,” he rasped. “Sweet merciful God, don’t move. Please.”
To his vast relief, she stayed in place. He could hardly think past the insane desire, his body struggling in every muscle. He could feel how hot she was even through the fabric of his trousers. Mine, his blood screamed. He needed to have her. Mate her. Taking deep, calming breaths, he shivered and gulped, and painstakingly brought himself under control.
“Are you thinking about the Queen?” he heard Pandora ask eventually, while the engorged length of his shaft throbbed vehemently between them. “Because if you are, it’s not working.”
Gabriel’s lips twitched at the helpful observation. He replied with his eyes still closed. “With you sitting on me in that sweet little nightdress, it wouldn’t matter if the Queen were standing in this room with a contingent of guards in full uniform.”
“What if she were scolding you? What if she were pouring cold water on your feet?”
Entertained, he regarded her with a one-eyed squint. “Pandora, I have the feeling you’re trying to deflate my protrusion.”
“What if all the guards had drawn their swords and were pointing them at you?” she persisted.
“I would reassure them that the Queen was in absolutely no danger from me.”
“Am I in danger?” Pandora asked hesitantly, which certainly wasn’t an inappropriate question for a virgin sitting on a half-naked man to be asking.
“Of course not,” Gabriel said, although he wasn’t certain either of them found that entirely convincing. “The safest place in the world for you is in my arms.” Sliding his arms around her, he eased her closer. As she leaned forward, the swollen ridge of his erection aligned with her soft cleft, and she caught her breath. He patted her hip reassuringly. “Does it make you nervous to feel how much I want you? The only purpose of this”—he nudged upward gently—“is to give you pleasure.”