Devil in Spring (The Ravenels #3)(72)

Pandora lifted her arms around his neck, and tilted her head back as he kissed her throat. “What should I do?” she asked breathlessly.

Gabriel let out a quiet groan, his forehead drawn as if he were in pain. “Just hold me,” he said hoarsely. “Keep all the pieces of me together. My God—I’ve never—” He broke off and thrust deep, and shuddered until she felt his rough tremors at her core, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him with every part of herself.

After a long time, he stopped shivering and collapsed in weary satisfaction, moving partially to the side to keep from crushing her.

Pandora played with the damp locks of his hair at the back of his neck, and traced the neat shape of his ear. “Your lovemaking,” she informed him, “is a gift.”

And she felt the curve of his smile against her shoulder.





Chapter 16




“I’ve never spent so much time in bed,” Pandora said four days later, as late-morning light stole in through a crack in the draperies. “Not even when I was sick.” Other than a handful of outings, such as a walking excursion to view ancient Saxon statues, and taking afternoon tea in the hotel’s outside gardens—they had stayed in the privacy of their suite. “I need to do something productive.”

A lazy masculine arm curved around her front, pulling her back against a hard, furry chest. Gabriel’s voice was like dark velvet against her ear. “I, for one, have been exceptionally productive.”

“I meant something useful.”

“You have been useful.” His palm smoothed over her naked hip.

“Doing what?”

“Satisfying my needs.”

“Not very well, it seems, or I wouldn’t have to keep doing it.” Pandora began to crawl across the mattress as if to escape the bed, and giggled as he pounced on her.

“You do it too well. It makes me want you all the more.” Gabriel settled over her, pinning her in place. His mouth lowered to her shoulder for a brief, soft bite. “You obsess me, with your sweet mouth and clever little hands . . . your beautiful back . . . and legs . . .”

“You need a hobby,” Pandora said severely as she felt his erection against her bottom. “Have you ever tried writing poetry? Building a ship in a bottle?”

“You’re my hobby.” He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, having discovered it was a particularly sensitive place.

Gabriel was a tender and passionate lover, exploring every inch of her with ruthless patience. He taught her about the slow build of anticipation, about the infinite ways to heighten desire. For languid hours he would guide her from one erotic sensation to the next, until she was overcome with shuddering waves of pleasure. At other times, he played rough-and-tumble, teasing her into a state of wildness and satisfying her with deep, powerful thrusts. She was always a little disoriented afterward, euphoric and shaky, but he would hold and caress her until she relaxed into a dreamless sleep. She’d never slept like this in her life, all through the night and late into the morning.

When evening approached, they would order dinner up to their suite. A pair of hotel stewards, both wearing noiseless slippers, would come to the sitting room to cover the round table with spotless white linen, and arrange place settings of china, silver, and crystal. They would set out little bowls of water, each topped with a perfect sprig of lemon verbena, for rinsing one’s fingers between courses. After bringing trays of steaming silver-covered dishes, the stewards would leave to allow them to serve themselves in privacy.

During dinner, Gabriel was an entertaining companion, amusing her with an endless supply of stories. He was willing to discuss any subject, and encouraged her to speak frankly and ask as many questions as she liked. Whenever she jumped from one topic to another seemingly unrelated one, it didn’t appear to bother him. It seemed that no matter what her faults were, he was willing to accept her for who she was, and who she was not.

At the end of the meal, the house stewards would return to remove the dishes, and bring tiny cups of Turkish coffee, a plate of French cheese, and a tray of bottled liqueurs. Pandora loved the jewel-colored liqueurs, which were served in miniature crystal glasses shaped like thimbles with flared rims. However, they were deceptively strong, as she discovered one evening when she made the mistake of trying three different kinds. As she tried to rise from her chair, her legs wobbled dangerously, and Gabriel quickly reached out to pull her into his lap.

“My balance is off,” she said in befuddlement.

Gabriel smiled. “I suspect it was that extra glass of Crème de Noyaux.”

Pandora twisted to cast a perplexed glance at the half-filled glass of almond cream liqueur. “But I didn’t even finish it.” With effort, she leaned over to grasp it, downed the rest in a gulp, and set the empty glass on the table. “There, that’s better,” she said in satisfaction. Spying Gabriel’s liqueur, which he had barely sipped from, she began to reach for that one as well, but he hauled her back with a smothered laugh.

“No, sweet, you don’t want a headache in the morning.”

Pandora looped her arms around his neck and stared at him with owlish concern. “Have I had too many? Is that why I feel so swignorant?” As Gabriel began to reply, she interrupted him with her mouth and wrapped herself around him passionately.