On Thin Ice (14 page)

Her mind shouted that she was flirting with disaster, playing with a more dangerous fire than she could imagine, but she had never felt this strong, this alive, so she ignored it. She didn’t want to think. In the morning she would think. Tonight . . . tonight was for emotions, and she gave herself freely to the erotic sensations buffeting her.

Shifting their position, Devlin lay almost fully on top of her, the weight of his body a seduction in itself, and her legs parted to hold him intimately against her. It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s heavy weight, felt a man’s desire for her.

He lifted his head and gazed at her. “Tell me no, Gabrielle. Stop me now, or I won’t stop until I’m so deep inside you that neither of us will be able to think or breathe.”

Her heart somersaulted, and Gabrielle knew if she hadn’t been lost before, she was now. The hard ridge of his arousal pressed at the softness of her thighs, a promise of passion still to come. She breathed in his scent, and her senses swam with longing. He wanted her to
stop
him? Nothing short of an atom bomb would stop them from making love this time.

She didn’t trust herself to speak, but worked his knit shirt from his jeans, her eyes never leaving his. He sat back as she rose, until they were side by side on the couch and his shirttail hung free. Her hands slipped underneath, gliding over the bare skin of his chest as she pushed the shirt higher, until she had stripped him of it. Her breath caught deep in her throat as she stared at him.

His shoulders were broad, his arms and his chest well-toned but not bulky. Underneath the smooth golden tanned skin, his muscles rippled as she spread her hands over his chest in a wonder of discovery. A light sprinkling of blond hair ran down the center of his chest, growing heavier the lower her gaze reached, until it disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. Though she’d guessed that his clothes hid a beautiful body, she hadn’t known just how intoxicating that bare expanse of flesh stretched taut over muscle and sinew would be until she saw it. Until she touched the warm, naked skin and felt him quiver in response to her.

They stared at each other in silence, then she guided his hands underneath her top, halting only when they covered her breasts. “Make love with me, Devlin,” she said, wondering if that could really be her voice sounding so husky, so inviting.

His eyes flared bright with passion. He pushed her top up, stripping her as she had stripped him moments earlier. As he gazed at her breasts, covered by a white French bra made mostly of lace, he smiled, a slow, wicked smile of promise.

“Pretty,” he said, and flicked the bra open with a deft twist of his wrist. Spreading the wisps of fabric, he covered her breasts with warm palms, and she gasped at the exquisite feel of his hands on her bare skin. “But these—” he squeezed her breasts gently and rubbed his palms over her nipples “—are beautiful.” Then he bent his head and fastened his mouth over one taut crest.

Fiery shivers of sensation shot from her breast to the heat pooling between her legs. Her back arched, and her head fell back. She buried her fingers in the thick, silky strands of his hair and clung to him. His mouth clamped hard on her other nipple, then he rolled his tongue around it, taunting, teasing while he bore her down onto the couch. He continued to torment her, alternately sucking her nipples and laving her breasts with warm moisture. Her blood hummed, spreading the sweet agony to every part of her body. His
hand slid between her thighs and cupped her through her jeans. Her hips jerked, and she gave a strangled groan when he unzipped her pants and worked his hand inside the denim to caress her through her satin panties.

Muttering something—a curse, a prayer—Devlin shoved the narrow strip of satin aside and stroked his fingers over her bare flesh. “God.” He groaned. “You feel like heaven.” Another stroke, then he thrust his finger inside her, slid out, and thrust inside again. “Sweet, hot heaven.”

Her muscles clenched, tightening around his finger. Was it possible to die from pleasure? She saw him watching her. Watching the movements of his hand and her reaction to him. She couldn’t help but lift her hips and moan his name in supplication.

“Let go, Gabrielle. I want to see you.”

His words as much as the tormenting action of his thumb on her center of pleasure sent her spiraling. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have halted the release that swept over her like heat shimmering in the desert. He gave her no time to recover, but continued the blissful torture until he’d pushed her to the brink again. “Devlin, I want you now,” she said, choking off the last word when he slipped another finger inside her.

“Shh,” he said, kissing her mouth while he continued the motions of his hand. “Slow down.”

“I can’t. Now. I want you now,” she whispered, and placed her hand over his erection. Boldly, she caressed him, but soon the denim interfered with her exploration. She tore open the button of his jeans eagerly, but the strength of his arousal forced her to go much more slowly when she lowered his zipper.

He covered her hand, pressing it against him for a moment before he groaned and moved it away. “Later,” he said, hooking his hands in her jeans and jerking them down, along with her panties. “We’ll go slow later.” He stood and shoved his own jeans down over his hips while she watched, sprawled on the couch and feeling more wanton than she ever imagined.

When he stood naked before her she whispered, “Oh, Lord,” and stretched out a hand to touch him. He smiled, but as she stroked him, her caresses growing bolder, his expression tightened. Impatiently, he brushed her hands aside to lie between her thighs, his sex warm and heavy against hers. He took her face between his hands and gazed into her eyes, then kissed her deeply, his tongue mimicking the slow, rocking rhythm of his hips against hers. Long moments later, he heaved a tortured groan, and she felt him shift. His hand dropped away from her face to dangle off the couch.

“What’s wrong?” Was that her voice? That breathless, achy sound?

“Nothing. If I can just find—” He stretched his arm farther back just as she rose to see what he was doing, and they tumbled onto the rug with a thud.

“Damn!” Devlin swore.

“What happened?” Lucky for her, she’d landed on top of him. His stifled groan made her wonder if he’d smacked his head against the table, or it could have been her elbow that had landed in his stomach.

“We fell off the couch.” Moving her aside, he grabbed his jeans and pulled his wallet from the hip pocket. “Here.” He handed her a foil packet and glared at the coffee table butting up against them. “This has got to go,” he said, and shoved it back several feet. It teetered, the glass top shaking, but then settled into place without turning over.

Gabrielle bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling and fumbled with the condom. Her fingers wouldn’t cooperate, and she looked up at him apologetically. “I can’t get it—”

He grabbed the small package from her and ripped it open. “I can,” he said, and took care of it while his smoldering gaze lingered on her body like a touch.

Suddenly shy, Gabrielle closed her legs together. It was crazy, after what they’d been doing to each other leading to this moment, but actually making love seemed such a final step.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling beside her. “Change your mind
?”
His large, warm hand slipped between her legs, gently urging them apart. He waited, his hand covering her, caressing the core of her desire.

“Um—” She could hardly breathe, let alone talk. “No.”

“Good,” he said, and kissed her.

Seconds later, his shaft pressed against her heated flesh, against the ache raging within, then he slid into her slowly, letting her feel each spectacular inch of his entry until he was imbedded deeply inside her. He buried his face in her neck, and she heard his ragged breathing, felt the tenseness of his muscles as he waited for her to adjust to him. A tenderness she couldn’t explain stole over her, and she wrapped her arms tighter around him, fighting the emotion that threatened to engulf her.

He pulled out of her, waited a heart-stopping beat, and surged back inside. Gabrielle dug her nails into his back, lifting her hips to meet his and tightening her legs around him. The tempo of his thrusts quickened, then slowed, then quickened again until she felt the storm peak, the moment before all hell, or heaven, breaks loose. Wave after wave of excitement swept her up, tumbling her over and over, then her climax rolled through her hard, fast, and shattering. Devlin moaned her name. His name broke on her sigh. His release shuddered through him as he spent himself deep inside her. Lost in love, she held tight while their last tremors died away.

Exactly when had he lost his mind?
Devlin wondered some time later. They lay on the rug, too lazy to move, with Gabrielle snuggled in the curve of his arm. He was spent, satisfied, and dammit, he wanted her again. Every moment they made love he’d been intensely aware that it was Gabrielle he held, Gabrielle he kissed, Gabrielle who responded so ardently to his touch. Gabrielle who touched him, kissed him, made love to him. It hadn’t been just fantastic sex. It had been fantastic because it was Gabrielle.

What lunacy had come over him? He’d not only committed the ultimate folly of falling in love with her, but he’d
told
her about it. Opened his mouth and let out the riskiest confession of his life. Devlin knew what women did with that kind of knowledge. They used it, and God help the man who gave them the edge.

He looked down at her hand resting trustingly on his chest. She wasn’t like that, he thought, caressing her bare back and hip. Or was that just wishful thinking?

She chose that moment to raise up on her elbow and look at him. “Regrets?” she asked softly.

Her dark hair hung down, the ends brushing against his chest with a soft, ticklish feeling. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her eyes slumberous. She looked like a woman who’d just been well loved. And she was so beautiful, it almost hurt him to look at her. “I think that’s my line,” he said huskily. “But no. No regrets.”

“You look awfully serious.”

He picked up her hand and kissed each knuckle. God, he had it bad. “What about you?”

Her eyes softened even more. She seemed as bemused as he was. “No.” She shook her head. “No regrets.”

“Good.” He slid his hand through her hair to the back of her head, bringing her mouth down to his. “Because I want you again.” He kissed her, pulling her naked body on top of his, and she flowed over him like a sigh, a whisper, a dream.