Devil in Spring (The Ravenels 3)

Pandora looked up at him suspiciously, wondering if he were teasing her again. His expression was perfectly bland. “I’m sure I won’t be,” she said, and steadied herself. “I’m ready,” she said bravely. “You can do it now.”

Perversely, Gabriel made no move to kiss her right away. “You’re interested in Charles Darwin, as I recall. Have you read his latest book?”

“No.” Why was he talking about books? She was shaky with nerves, and rather annoyed that he was drawing the whole thing out like this.

“The Expression of Emotion In Man and Animals,” Gabriel continued. “Darwin writes that the custom of kissing can’t be considered an innate human behavior, as it doesn’t extend to every culture. New Zealanders, for example, rub noses in lieu of kissing. He also references an account of tribal societies in which they greet each other by blowing air softly against the face.” He gave her an innocent glance. “We could start that way, if you like.”

Pandora had no idea how to respond. “Are you mocking me?” she demanded.

Laughter danced in his eyes. “Pandora,” he chided, “don’t you know when someone is flirting with you?”

“No. All I know is that you’re looking at me as if I’m excessively amusing, like a trained monkey playing a tambourine.”

With his hand still supporting her nape, Gabriel brought his lips to her forehead and smoothed out the furrow of her frown. “Flirting is like playing. It’s a promise you may or may not keep. It could be a provocative glance . . . a smile . . . the touch of a fingertip . . . or a whisper.” His face was right over hers, so close that she could see the gold tips on his feathery dark lashes. “Should we rub noses now?” he whispered.

Pandora shook her head. She had the sudden urge to tease him, catch him off guard. Pursing her lips, she blew a soft, cool stream of air against his chin.

To her satisfaction, Gabriel reacted with a quick double-blink of surprise. A flush of color made his eyes fever-bright, the irises spangled with glints of wondering amusement. “You win at flirting,” he told her, and his hand cradled her jaw, his thumb stroking a circle over her cheek.

Pandora tensed as his mouth came to hers, as light as a brush of silk or a zephyr breeze. He was almost tentative at first, making no demands, only feeling the contours of her mouth with his. Softly, softly . . . his lips moved over hers in sensuous touches that quieted the usual chaos of her brain. Mesmerized, she answered with hesitant pressure, and he shaped her response, played with her, until she began to dissolve in the slow, endless teasing. There was no interference of thought or time, no past or future. There was only this moment, the two of them standing together in a sun-drenched path of flowering vines and sweet dry grass.

He caught gently at her lower lip, and then the upper, the tender nibbling sending vibrant shocks down to the quick of her body. Pressing deeper, he coaxed her lips to part until an unfamiliar flavor whispered across her senses, something clean and soft and stirring. She felt the tip of his tongue, an intrusion of pure heat into the private space that had always belonged only to her. Bewildered, trembling in surprise, she opened to him.

His fingers spread over the back of her head, cupping the curve of her skull, and he broke the kiss to work his way down the side of her throat. She began to breathe in gasps at the feel of his lips moving slowly over the most deliriously sensitive places, the most delicate skin. The wet velvet friction caused gooseflesh to rise all over. She lost the feel of her bones, sinking against him while pleasure pooled at the pit of her stomach like melted sun.

Reaching the joint where her neck connected with her shoulder, Gabriel lingered there, touching it with his tongue. The edges of his teeth clamped down in a soft bite, and a helpless shiver wracked her. He worked his way back up with supple, searching kisses. By the time he reached her mouth again she couldn’t hold back a mortifying whimper of eagerness. Her lips felt swollen, and the firm, savoring pressure was an exquisite relief. Clutching her arms around his neck, she pulled his head down, urging him to kiss her harder, longer. She dared to explore his mouth the way he had hers, and that drew a low pleasured sound from his throat. He was so delicious and silky that she couldn’t stop herself from putting her hands on the sides of his face and claiming him aggressively. She kissed him harder, deeper, feasting on the luscious interior of his mouth with uncontrollable greed.

With a smothered laugh, Gabriel pulled his head back and gripped a hand in her hair. Like her, he was panting for breath. “Pandora, love,” he said, his eyes brilliant with mingled heat and amusement, “you kiss like a pirate.”

She didn’t care. She needed more of him. She was throbbing in every limb, feeling too much at once, shaking with a hunger she didn’t know how to satisfy. Clutching his shoulders, she sought his mouth again and arched against the hard masculine contours of his body. Not enough . . . she wanted him to crush her, take her to the ground, and hold her there with his full weight.

Gabriel kept the kiss light, trying to gentle her. “Easy, my wild girl,” he whispered. When she refused to calm down, still shaking, he relented and gave her what she wanted, fastening his mouth over hers, siphoning pleasure from her with sweet erotic pulls.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” A woman’s exasperated voice came from several yards away, startling Pandora as if someone had just tossed a bucket of cold water on them.

It was Phoebe, who had come back along the holloway to find them. She had discarded her robe and stood there in her bathing costume, hands braced on slender hips. “Are you coming to the beach,” she asked her brother irritably, “or are you going to seduce the poor girl in the middle of the holloway?”