“Would that flame your desire?” I run my fingertips down the front of his surcoat. “Would you touch me?” When he doesn’t answer or try to push me away, I flick my nails upward, scraping them along his throat. “I wonder what that would feel like to have you stroke me.”
Lured by the wine, perhaps, I draw even closer. “Gabriel.” I lift to my tiptoes and sink my fingers into his thick hair, drawing his mouth downward. “I want to taste you.”
The warmth of his breath teases my skin as his gaze lowers to my lips. Need flares through me as I rise even higher, seeking the taste, the hint of wine, of everything he keeps from me. The moment our mouths connect, a stirring awakens deep in my belly. A stirring subdued by summers of training and denying myself.
Now, here it is very much alive and begging for more. More. More. More. Of this. Him. It doesn’t matter what he is, or who he is. Not when that stirring dives deep within me, rousing my desire.
Warmth heats my veins as he concedes, kissing me back with an intensity that drives us backward against a tree and sends need throbbing between my legs. His hands grip my hips as he clutches me tight and gives in to the fervor, the passion surging between us.
I push aside everything else. My mission. His reluctance to deepen our relationship. Our differences. Instead, I focus on just being a woman giving herself to her husband.
It doesn’t last long enough, him caving to his lust. He pulls away, leaving a rush of air between us. I stumble against the tree and shove my hair behind my shoulders.
Several breaths pass before he speaks, his tone even and not affected by our encounter. “Follow me.”
I blink at the request and jerk my gaze around me. Nobody seemed to notice our embrace, yet my skin burns as if a thousand people stare and silently judge me for giving myself so ardently.
“Follow me,” Gabriel repeats, drawing my focus to him.
Numbly, I do as he requested, following him through the throng of people. He walks so fast, I must take two steps to his one.
I glance up at him the moment we stroll in the street alone. Moonlight skims his taut features as he continues guiding me toward the cottage we share.
The Kyanite in me knows I shouldn’t have encouraged him. The mere woman tingles with thoughts of more.
“Shall you bed me now?” I ask as we step through the front door a few moments later.
Silence imbues him as he pours a goblet of wine and drinks the entire thing.
I lick my bottom lip, still tasting him. “Gabriel.”
Torchlight flares in his eyes as they settle on me. “Did you think if you kissed me, I’d change my stance?” He sets the goblet down with a thud.
“I hoped.”
“I haven’t.” He reaches for the jar of wine, refills his goblet, and downs that one too.
My brow rises. “Are you planning to get sloshed?”
“No. I just like wine.” As if silently challenging me, he lifts the jar and drinks from the terracotta pottery.
“I see. Perhaps you should grow grapes to keep up with your obsession.”
His knuckles tighten against the jar as he tips it back for a second time and drinks.
My breath hitches as reality strikes me.Hisreality. I affected him earlier.
“Gabriel.”
He lowers the pottery to the table with another forceful thump. “Don’t. Not tonight. I…” A tic forms in his jaw. “Not tonight.”
Why? Because tonight you’re teetering on the edge of your control?
What would happen if I lured him right over the edge?
The hem of my gown brushes the stone floor as I step closer to him. “Make me your wife, Gabriel.”
Those silver-blue eyes meet mine, and my pulse quickens. Fire burns in those depths. Fire for me. Fire for more. Fire for another kiss.
