Tempting Fate Read online

  His gaze upon her was a strange medley of reverent and carnal, and she lifted onto the tips of her toes to offer a kiss.

  He still had to bend a little to grant it, and she smiled against his lips when he did.

  Relentless in their quest, her fingers slid between them, drawing past the corrugations of his abdomen, and the bandage at his side, to where she knew a delightful trail of dark hair led down to his sex.

  “No.” He tore his mouth from hers, levering his hips out of reach.

  She pulled her hand away, as if she had been branded. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Smoothing a rough palm down her hair, he quickly replied, “Never, mon coeur. But I am so… if you touch me. I might… I might come.”

  “That’s all right. I don’t mind.”

  “I mind.” His brows drew together.

  “I’d like to know what it feels like,” she admitted. “I’d like to see before…” She ducked her head into his shoulder, her fingers finding a tender, especially smooth spot of skin where his hip met his thigh.

  Nodding, he closed his eyes.

  Her name escaped his lips on a strangled whisper as she found the barrel of his erection with her smooth, cool fingers.

  The heat of it stunned her the most. Though his entire body was flush and warming from the firelight, his cock was like a branding iron, pulsing with warmth.

  Clutching her to him, he buried his head into her hair as she explored his sex with careful fingertips and breaths of wonder. Upon finding a large vein beneath, she was delighted to discover that when she fondled it, the entire organ flexed and throbbed, and made a man of his size whimper. She traced the smooth ridge of the head, finding a bead of moisture at the tip, as slick as her own body’s response.

  When she palmed him, his hips rolled forward with an instinctive glide, thrusting deeper into the circle of her hand.

  A moan of agony vibrated against her ear.

  Squeezing, testing, she let him slide against her grip, feeling the intimate skin move like velvet over heated steel.

  After only a few thrusts, his body tensed, trembled, and he made the most helpless sound. Something exceptionally low and almost plaintive. His shoulders bunched and arms flexed, though he was careful not to clench her too hard as the flesh in her hand thickened, throbbed, and then released warm and slick pulses against her belly.

  He nearly collapsed when she let him go, but he caught himself and shocked her by immediately bending and finding his discarded towel to wipe her skin clean and dry.

  After, he plucked her close for a searing kiss, one that tilted the world on its very axis, or so she thought until she felt the familiar softness of her coverlet beneath her shoulder blades.

  He’d lowered them to the ground and levered to his side next to her, cradling her head on his arm, leaving his other hand free to mount an expedition of his own.

  First, he relieved her of her spectacles, discarding them to the hearth behind him.

  Something about the care he took with them touched her in an altogether different way than his fingers did.

  “My God,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed as his fingertips dipped from her jaw to her neck and down to stroke into the divot of her clavicle. “I knew women were soft, but I never… I never could have imagined.”

  His words pleased her, and yet she felt so exposed like this. So vulnerable and— well— naked. “Is there… Should I be doing something?”

  His eyes never opened wider than half-mast as his chuckle rumbled over her like the purr of a lion. “You’ve done enough, mon coeur. Allow me.”

  It hadn’t ever occurred to Felicity that a gaze could feel as intense as a caress, until he dragged it to her breasts, the flesh quivering beneath the taut peaks.

  Slowly, his hands followed, trailing down the expanse of her chest. His fingers splayed as they climbed one side of the mound, brushed over the sensitive bud one at a time, and descended down the thin skin beneath.

  Felicity tossed her head back and closed her eyes, gasping each time a finger found her nipple, clenching as the sensation traveled from her breast, down her nerves, and landed in her loins.

  “Do you like this?” he queried.

  She nodded, too attenuated by his motions to form a reply.

  Reluctantly, he left her breasts to graze her ribs, lifting goose pimples over her entire body as he tentatively spanned her waist, testing its shape. At the soft curve of her belly, he paused, spreading his palm flat beneath her navel.

  Over her womb.

  All hesitancy abandoned his gaze then, as a fierce expression overtook his features. One that called to the very primal place inside of her that had responded to him from the very first.

  This was a man who would have drawn her desire in any time. If he’d have captained a galleon. Or have been a fearsome knight. Or have donned primitive linens and used rudimentary spears to keep the wolves from their door.

  Ages ago, when he could have claimed her as his wife by simply dragging her into his hut and breeding with her. When she could have been expected to be nothing but grateful to find a man capable of protecting her from the brutal elements and the whims of other beasts.

  In the days when size and strength was revered over birth and breeding, Gabriel Sauvageau would have been a king.

  He’d have been worshiped as a god.

  If everything that made their connection complicated to the point of impossible didn’t exist, Felicity knew in that moment, he’d not hesitate to plant a child in that place beneath his hand.

  An empty yearning opened a chasm there, and her hips undulated restlessly of their own accord.

  His gaze snapped to her sex. And stayed there, captured by whatever he saw.

  Biting her lip, Felicity fought the urge to squirm as she stared up into his hard, unreadable expression. Was he unimpressed?

  “Open for me.”

  At his whispered, terse command, her thighs parted of their own accord.

  The uncontested ferocity in his gaze stole her breath as he glimpsed her intimate flesh for the first time. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and a flood of arousal drew a soft sound from her throat.

  It was all the encouragement he needed.

  Erotic sparks shimmered through every inch of her body as his curious fingers petted through the dusting of gold hair, and slid into the passion-soaked folds of her sex.

  If Felicity had thought to be embarrassed by the abundant moisture he found there, the dark, ardent sound he made deep in his throat dispelled her of that notion.

  It was what he did to her, after all.

  Gabriel Sauvageau liquified her with every gentle, clever discovery of his roughened fingers as they parted the seam of her sex, sliding over the pliant ruffles of flesh that protected the entrance to her body.

  Instantly, he found the swollen nub at her center and pressed it, causing her to jump and squirm away from an almost painful, electric jolt.

  He froze, his eyes going wide with panic. “I hurt you.”

  “No— that is… it was a touch too strong.”

  “Should I stop?”

  She smoothed at his brow and shook her head, lifting her hips to meet his hand. Cautiously, he resumed his soft strokes and lazy explorations, watching her every expression so intently, she thought she might die from the tenderness he evoked in her chest.

  From the agonizing ache he conjured in her core.

  They both learned her pleasure was found if teased around the nub, skipping over it with whisper-soft strokes and shivering thrums.

  Felicity felt as if she’d become intoxicated, the world spinning behind her eyes when they closed, drowning in the heat and pure liquid pleasure of the moment.

  She’d read about le petite mort. The little death. The culmination of sexual pleasure he’d only just found in her hands. And still, as something potent and powerful spun toward her like a whirlwind, threatening to drag her away from herself, she was ashamed to find she panicked a littl
e.

  Gripping his shoulders, she gasped his name, which escaped as a question.

  “I’m here, mon amour,” he murmured, nuzzling at her, pressing gentle, tender kisses against her mouth as she writhed and ground against his hand.

  He kissed down her neck, her chest, and found her bare breasts with an appreciative groan, reveled there for a moment, dragging his tongue around the puckered flesh of her areola, doing his utmost to keep his stubble from abrading the sensitive nerves.

  “Who is your God, Felicity? You are too fucking beautiful to be made of the same clay and dust as the rest of us.” His blasphemy was beautiful, and it sang in her bones as he closed his hot mouth around her nipple and laved it with his tongue.

  A moan hummed from between her lips as her thighs fell wider of their own accord. His fingers had found the perfect rhythm, and pulled the pinnacle of pleasure from the deepest parts of her.

  The spasms engulfed her in wonderous waves of delight, culminating in her core and then spreading through her veins in sparkling surges. Very far away, someone made the most pathetic of noises, mewls and pants and pleas. She barely heard them as the glorious sensations intensified. Her body bowed and arched, pulsing with a pleasure so acute, she worried her muscles might strain to the point of snapping.

  Eventually, her body became one raw nerve, and she collapsed, folding her knees up, seeking escape from an abundance of ecstasy.

  Only when she returned to herself, did she realize those sounds had been ripped from her own throat.

  Feeling more than a little vulnerable, she reared up to tug at him, needing warmth and weight and comfort.

  He complied, immediately, cautiously rolling to cover her with agonizing deliberation, draping himself over her, but never settling his weight fully.

  Beneath him she melted like a candle that’d spent its entire wick, a puddle of pliant warmth.

  It was too easy to luxuriate in his tender care of her as he stroked her hair, dropping featherlight kisses on her brow, her eyelids, her nose. Her cheekbones. The corners of her mouth.

  She loved this. Being spread beneath him, her thighs obliged wider to accept his bulk.

  And every part that’d been relaxed and released went instantly rigid as the hot brand of his hard sex pressed against her.

  He was ready… again.

  * * *

  Everything that made Gabriel a man rippled beneath his skin at the electrifying contact of his sex and hers. He squeezed his eyes shut in half a wince and half an expression of wonder.

  To spend in her hand had been a blessing, as she’d not only released a torrent of the most powerful pleasure he’d yet known, but she’d also released the hold his overwhelming lust had on his brain and body.

  But when she’d parted her lovely slim thighs, unveiling the secrets of her body to him, his cock had become painfully full again.

  Felicity wasn’t the first woman he’d seen in the nude. So much of his business had been done in crude places and alleys where ladies exposed themselves for money, or serviced a man outside with only the shadows to conceal them.

  It was good, he supposed, not for the sake of comparison, but because if he’d not had at least a general idea of what existed beneath a woman’s dress, the sight of her bare ass when he’d walked into the room might have killed him.

  Let alone the rest of her. The alabaster perfection of her peach-tipped breasts. The flush of her smooth skin…

  Her sex. Pink, pretty flesh nestled in a feather dusting of dark gold curls.

  If he did nothing in his life to be proud of, her pleasure was enough to make him feel like a god. The arch of her sinuous body, the lithe movements of her hips as she rode the waves of her climax.

  A climax he’d provided.

  He’d meant to keep the evidence of his desire away from her, but his body betrayed him, seeking the warmth only she could provide.

  Their gazes clashed when the barrel of his cock settled against the heat of her core. He could still feel the little pulses of her pleasure throbbing in time to the increasing heartbeat surging through his shaft.

  Not daring to move, he schooled the need out of his features. He could think of nothing other than drilling into her like the base and perverse animal he was, but the need was tempered by his regard for her.

  His love.

  Her eyes had gone heavy and sleepy after she’d come, and her need for his closeness broke his heart into tender shards.

  If this was all they did tonight, he was satisfied.

  Well… satisfied was too strong a word. But he recognized with unquestionable thoroughness just how bloody fortunate he was to have done what they did.

  It would never be enough.

  Felicity slid her hands around to his back and scorched little paths of fire over the thick bands of muscle. Muscle he was glad he possessed if only to use it in service of her. To keep and protect her. To perform the labor she physically could not, and have the strength and stamina to provide her pleasure.

  To keep from crushing her now as her hips pressed gently upward, pressing his cock against that marvelous, pliant skin unique to her sex. Coating him in the slick leavings of her desire. The moisture he’d need to make his way inside of her.

  He gazed down at her angelic face, suffused with sheer, incredible wonder.

  How did a woman like this exist? How was it possible that he’d not only found her but somehow events had unfolded in such a way, that she was now beneath him, legs spreading wider in unmistakable invitation.

  Lowering onto his elbows, he framed her head with his forearms, plunging his fingers into her hair and cradling her scalp from the hard floor beneath the coverlet.

  Arching his hips back slightly, it didn’t surprise him that the crown of his cock found the entrance to her body without aid, nudging against the moist kiss of taut skin there.

  He watched every twitch, every tiny change or tightening in her lovely features. Examined her for fear or pity or any long-suffering.

  Not trusting what he found.

  The pillows of her lips were plush and red, swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were dark and gleamed with a passion that went beyond permission and into the realm of demand. The color in her cheeks was high and the barest sheen of moisture glinted at her hairline.

  I love you.

  He wanted to say it as he entered her.

  But men in bed were often men in love, and he worried the sincerity would be lost.

  It would be cruel to tell her if he was still expected to leave her. If she still needed to marry another in order to fulfil her responsibilities.

  That didn’t change the truth, however, so he allowed the words to flood him as he pressed forward, breaching her body in slow, excruciating increments.

  Encountering a barrier almost immediately, her gasp paralyzed him, as did the shadow of pain pinching her features.

  When he would have withdrawn, she seized him, wrapping her arms around his torso and visibly bracing herself. “No. No. Just… ignore my pain.”

  “I could never ignore your pain,” he contended. “We don’t have to—”

  She stopped him with a kiss so tender and certain, he forgot any doubt, until the connection of their bodies was the only sensation he could feel.

  “I was made for this,” she reminded him, adjusting the angle of her body in a way that pressed the breath from his lungs. “My body is crafted to accept a man. You. I’m asking you not to prolong either of our discomfort. Please. Just—”

  Her voice broke on a sob as he thrust forward, impaling her as deep as he could, which seemed to be barely over halfway.

  A sweltering slew of expletives burst from him as he held himself utterly still with trembling limbs. He cursed the cruel God who made this the most incredible bliss he could have possibly experienced…

  And a terrible sort of discomfort for her.

  Her nails bit into his back, and he welcomed the pain, wishing he could take it all from her. Because pain had become his
friend over the years. Had often been the only way he’d known he was still alive.

  But it didn’t belong in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to hers.

  She said nothing, only breathed with him as he’d once taught her to do until he could feel the gradual give of her intimate muscles as her body accepted him inside.

  In Gabriel’s experience, desire and privation had been his only drive. An emptiness he tried to fill with a fortune nearly consumed him, because with every acquisition, every time he reached for a fantasy… the reality always left him disappointed.

  But this. This. Her.

  Even though her body only sheathed half of him, the sensations suffusing him were far superior to anything he conjured on the lonely nights he’d spent dreaming of exactly this moment.

  With her gentle sigh of relief, her muscles released further, welcoming more of him inside.

  “Try again,” she urged softly.

  He withdrew, gasping at the hot ripples of her intimate flesh as it gripped at his retreating cock, as if reluctant to let him go. He sank in again, gaining a bit more ground. Then again. And once more, until he’d seated himself as far as she seemed to be able to take.

  After only those handful of motions, they were both panting and sweating, their chests heaving against the other.

  He was inside her. A part of her. Locked within her body and her embrace.

  Never in his life had he dared to hope. Christ… He wanted to savor the moment, but a drive as ancient as humanity itself, took his body away from his heart.

  Ecstasy overtook pleasure as he found a slow, rippling rhythm with his hips, not withdrawing much at all, merely rocking against her.

  Her lips moved with words he couldn’t hear over the roaring in his ears, so he dropped his head to her shoulder, releasing a shuddering breath. Fighting the rapture already clawing up his spine.

  Her soundless whispers of encouragement never permeated the words that created a percussion to his every thrust.