"And now?" he asked as he caught her nipple between his index finger and thumb and gently rolled it back and forth.
She clenched her teeth together hard, completely without words. She knew she wouldn't have been able to utter a syllable even if she could think of anything to say. Lucid thought was beyond her right now. It simply wasn't possible to think of anything beyond Connor Douglas's rough caress, beyond the hard warmth of his body pressing her down upon the ground.
He scoured her nipple with his battle-calloused palm.
Her back came up off the forest floor. A moan, breathless and husky and fervent beyond reason, rushed past her lips. She turned her head, trying to bury the sound in her throat, but already it was too late. Worse, she was beyond caring. While the knowledge that her response was wanton in the extreme played in a small corner of her mind, the knowledge that she wouldn't stop him for the world so long as he continued to make her feel so magnificent was stronger still.
Oh, nay. She wasn't so fickle or so short of memory that she'd forgotten last night. It was a memory that would follow her to the grave!
The fact of the matter remained that it was their lovemaking that had decided her fate. What good would resisting Connor now do, aside prove that she could? And even then, to what end? What could she possibly hope to gain but leave them both filled with frustrated desire and sharp longing? The damage, after all, was done. It had been done last night and, truth to tell, Gabrielle doubted if, even given the impossible chance, she would change it now if she could.
Body and soul.
The words echoed through her mind.
Last night Connor Douglas had claimed her as his own, body and soul, and she'd given herself, all of herself, to him freely.
The balladeers may have labeled this man a devil, but he made love like an angel. One kiss, one touch, and her senses soared until she could think of naught but the here and now, of forgetting who he was, who she was, and of only laying in his arms...
Ah, yes, forever.
How could she think of aught else when he held her this way, caressing her just so, his touch lingering, teasing, promising still more intimacy. He'd learned her body well, as though he'd mapped her curves and valleys and now knew them equally, if not better, than he knew the craggy landscape beyond the night-inkened forest. His hands were sure and skillful; he knew the exact spots to stroke, the exact pressure to apply, for her ultimate pleasure. Effortlessly, he aroused within her a deluge of white-hot tumultuous sensations... sensations that until last night, were beyond anything she'd imagined, unlike anything she'd dared to dream existed.
His hand left her. A slice of disappointment stabbed through her. Cool night air washed over her passion-fevered skin. The chill lasted but a second; Connor's fingers were soon replaced by the delicious, moist heat of his mouth.
Gabrielle sucked in a ragged gasp. Her body shuddered violently. Her lashes flickered down. Fingers convulsing reflexively, she gripped his sinewy upper arms, clinging to him blindly. Her back arched as she strained up, up, up into the intimacy that made her body melt and her thoughts scatter.
Or was it the feel of his open mouth covering her nipple—the sizzlingly erotic pressure he applied as he suckled the sensitive bead of flesh into his mouth, circled it with his tongue, teased it with his teeth—that made her senses spin?
...ye've no objection to me doing this... tonight and all the nights after?
The words tumbled through her desire-fogged mind. She'd meant every word she'd said; she truly had no objection. What Gabrielle hadn't said, what she indeed had trouble acknowledging even to herself, was that she could not in her wildest dreams imagine another man touching her the way Connor Douglas did. She didn't even want to imagine it.
The last time she'd felt desire build inside her like this she hadn't known the emotion, had been so stunned by the force of it she'd been frightened. She knew what it was now, knew the throbbing ache deep inside her was nothing to be afraid of, that Connor would know exactly how to ease it, and when he did, she'd experience sensations equal to none.
Gabrielle wanted to feel those sensations again. She wanted to feel them again now, with an intensity that knocked the very breath from her.
Her hands slipped up his thickly muscled arms, over the broad width of his shoulders. He tensed beneath her touch as she stroked a sizzling path down his back. Her fingers curled into white-knuckled fists as he tugged at the coarse material of her tunic.
Gabrielle aided him to pull the garment up over her head by shifting her weight from one arm to the other. She tossed it aside, her hands once ag
ain hungrily caressing his back and waist before the cloth could flutter to the ground.
He lowered himself atop her.
Gabrielle pulled in a shaky breath and released it in a long, slow, gratifying sigh. Ah, yes, this was what she'd wanted, this was exactly the feeling she'd been searching for. His bare flesh against hers was shockingly wonderful. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pushed up against him, wriggled, luxuriated in the unique feel of his hot, naked skin rubbing against hers.
The throbbing between her legs magnified, piercing her to the core, then quickly whirlwinding throughout the rest of her body. Need built, focused. Tunneled down to an all-consuming, driving ache that begged satisfactionqw.
She whimpered softly when his mouth left her breast. He shifted attention, sipping at the full undercurve, dipping lower.
Lower.
Lower still.
His teeth nibbled the soft skin of her stomach. Hot and wet, his tongue circled the nook of her navel. Her fingers curled inward, the nails raking the tender flesh on his back as his mouth slipped lower still.
Gabrielle stilled, and her breath wedged painfully in her throat when she felt first his chin, then lips, graze the triangular nest of thick, silky black curls between her legs. The muscles in her arms and legs pulled taut with anticipation as he eased her thighs open.