“And you’re not? You’re constantly trying to temp me.”
I squeeze my fingers together. “Well, you won then. I am thoroughly inflamed. And I have never once invoked desire in you.”
“Is that what you think?” He lowers his hand to the bulge between his legs. “I am hard every night I lie next to you.”
“Then act on it. Bed me.” I remove my surcoat and chemise.
Those eyes heat, lock on me, then rock over my body. Every inch of my skin tingles in anticipation.
He doesn’t reach for me.
“Gabriel, please. Nobody will care if you bed me.”
A vein throbs in his forehead as he allows another slower pass before ripping his gaze free. “Put something on.”
Stubbornness prompts my answer. “I will not.”
Frustration flares across his features. “Well, you cannot sleep like that.”
I most certainly could.
I walk to where he sits and stop when my thighs brush the mattress. “The only way I’m putting on a nightdress is if you finish what you started.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw as he works to swallow. “Put your nigh—”
“—no.” I climb on the mattress and sit, straddling his lap. “Finish what you started.” This time, I am the one leaving no room for objecting.
Boldly, I dive my fingers into his hair, feeling those soft strands beneath my fingertips. I should have touched him sooner.
He grips my hips and shifts me to his thighs. “I have never met a woman who is as bold as you are.”
“That’s because I am a Kyanite.”
He allows his fingers a slow trail down my hips, over my thighs, and back up. “Do you want to finish?” he asks in a husky voice, one thick with need.
“Yes.”
As soon as the word leaves my mouth, he rotates me until I’m lying on my back. He spreads my legs wide and trails his fingertips up my thighs. “Then we do it my way.”
“Your way?” I ask, my voice a breathless whisper.
He allows his fingers another lighter pass, his touch teasing my skin and awakening the throbbing in my core.
“You don’t join. Don’t speak. Don’t move.”
“W—”
He presses his fingers against my mouth, silencing my question. “I said don’t speak.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, keeping myself from talking as he touches me between my legs. Slowly, purposefully, skillfully, he teases me. Awakens the passion. Takes me to the edge of my summit. Only after I teeter there does he allow me to soar.
I tighten my fingers around my bedcovers, relishing in the pleasure coursing through me. It’s the first time anyone has made me reach my completion. It leaves me wanting more of him. His heat. His touch. His body inside mine.
I don’t voice any of it as he frees me and rolls to his back. It’s more than I thought he would give me yesterday, and I cannot be selfish.
As Gabriel’s breathing evens beside me, my mind whirls. Especially with how close I came to warranting Malachi’s death. One slip of the tongue, and he would have been dead. The Bloodstone people would show a spy no mercy. Surely, there’s no other reason that would have brought Malachi here.
Speaking to Malachi sparked old memories. He was the only person who cared, who promised me a future after Mother died.
