Chapter Twenty-five
Sara stood in Gabriel’s living room as he closed the door behind them. He said he was mortal. How was that possible? How was it possible that he had ever been anything but? She felt the tightness of tears in her eyes, not of sadness or of happiness, but of emotional confusion, of uncertainty.
Where did they go from here?
But then he set Anne’s ashes down on the piano and turned to her.
The look on his face made her forget any questions she had, any fears or worries she had been about to voice. He was staring at her, intensely, but with a peace, a calm, a relief, that she had never seen from him.
She stood still as he walked up to her, sensing that he was going to touch her.
He did.
His hands touched her shoulders, his thumbs brushing her hair back, before he slid up her neck, to her jaw, her chin, then cupped her cheeks in both of his hands. Sara closed her eyes, sighing at the pleasure of his warmth so close to her, his long fingers and masculine hands holding her so gently, as if she were precious.
“I’m going to make love to you,” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her. “As a man.”
Sara shivered, her arousal immediate and powerful. He was going to touch her. Something she’d thought she would never have. Her knees actually trembled, and she reached out to wrap her arms around him, to mold their bodies together, but he pushed her hands down by her side.
“Just let me feel you for a minute,” he said, his nose brushing over her cheek, his lips tasting the corner of her mouth.
Her eyes drifted closed again and she stood still, overwhelmed by the simple pleasure of his exploratory kiss, his hands caressing her hair, her neck, her clavicle. His legs surrounded hers, and his waist, erection, brushed against her but shifted and moved, never coming in full contact, a soft whisper of what to expect, but a reminder that this needed to happen slowly.
Then his mouth was on hers, in a slow, devotional kiss that took her breath away. Sara sighed, her fingers reaching out and grasping the belt loops of his jeans so she wouldn’t stumble. It felt so good, so pure, so warm and lovely and sensual, to finally feel his mouth again, to taste his lips and know that he was hers. He kissed her again and again, with no hurry, with no destination in mind, but with slow and easy and worshipful presses that had her breath catching, her body aching.
“Gabriel,” she whispered.
His eyes were bright and shiny, a rich chocolate brown, as they trailed all over her face, as if he were memorizing her features. His fingers followed his gaze, chin to jaw to cheekbone, lingering on her bottom lip, slipping into the divot above her top lip. He tucked her unruly hair behind her ears, even touching the lobes briefly before brushing the backs of his thumbs over her eyelashes.
The warmth of his breath, the feel of his chest just barely touching hers, his fingers exploring, left her trembling, wanting more, all of him, yet at the same time ultimately satisfied. She was getting more than she had ever expected Gabriel would be able to give, and she felt it, understood it. Knew that connection people talked about, that feeling she had waited for and had never experienced until him, that conviction that the two of them were destined to be together, their feelings strong and amazing and deep.
That they had seen each other’s soul and found where they belonged.
“You feel so good,” he murmured. “Sara.”
She had never thought her name was anything particularly special, but when he said it, when his deep voice washed over her with such devotion, such respect, such longing, she thought she would never get tired of hearing it.
And when his forehead rested briefly on hers, his hand cupping the back of her neck, she sighed again. Her body was impatient, wanting more, but at the same time she wanted the moment to stretch and last, to make up for all the weeks of being without him.
Gabriel kissed her, a press, then a pull back, again and again, quick but passionate touches that tossed over her earlier conviction. She did want more. The kisses were so intense, so teasing, so fleeting, so filled with intensity, and she tried to hold them, tried to take more, but he pulled back over and over. Her breathing hitched, her inner thighs ached, her ni**les tightened painfully against her T-shirt. She clung to his jeans, her grip tightening, and she gave up trying to follow his mouth.
His hands went everywhere, lingering briefly with the barest of touches on her neck, her head, her back, her waist, while he took her mouth so fully, so completely, that she lost track of time, lost track of anything but the possession of her lips by his. Her eyes couldn’t stay open, her head couldn’t stay up, as she gave herself up to being taken by him, slowly and tauntingly. Worshipfully.
When his tongue finally invaded her mouth and touched hers, she squeezed his waist, rocking back involuntarily at the pleasure. But again, he didn’t take hard and fast, but he explored with a control that amazed her, that left her weak, clinging to him, body humming, heart full. She could feel his erection pressing against her, but he ignored it, never attempting to grind against her, his hands staying above her waist. His tongue took hers, mimicking sex until she thought she couldn’t take another second, not one more kiss or slide or suck.
He pulled entirely back, his eyes hot and dark. “You taste so good I want to eat you,” he said, and leaned forward and nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth.
Sara sucked in a breath as the bite shot an ache of desire through her. “So eat me.”
“Oh, I will. But I’m going to take my time.” He ran his finger along the neckline of her T-shirt, then across her bottom lip. “I never thought I would have this, never thought I would have you. I want to enjoy you.”
She wanted to be enjoyed.
Sara reached out and buried her fingers in his soft hair and kissed him the way he had been kissing her, with love and longing and wonder, before pulling back.
He gave her a Gabriel smile, the kind where only the corner of his mouth tilted up, while his lips stayed together, like he had a private thought that amused and pleased him. “I love you,” he said, his mouth forming the words, but no sound coming out.
Sara felt the tears again, and she wondered why she fought them. There was no shame in her emotions, no reason to apologize for the intensity of what she felt, for the feeling that this was forever, that this man, this moment, had changed her life. That she was in love. Deeply and joyfully in love, and that was worth a tear or two.
So she let a drop slide down each cheek unencumbered as she studied Gabriel, the straight line of his jaw, the whiskers that had snuck up onto his chin in the last few hours. She couldn’t resist touching him, running her fingers over and down his cheekbones and his lips, before cupping his cheeks the way he had with her.