Perfect Strangers (29 page)

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 again 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.

His attention traveled slowly up the soft, lush, naked length of her body.

Her attention started downward.

Their gazes met and held for one throbbing heartbeat.

"Wh-what are you doin—?"

His head dipped, and suddenly Gabrielle had no breath with which to finish the question.

The first stroke of his tongue was intimate and quick; the contact surged through her like a bolt of lightning. Her hands were on his shoulders; they lifted, her fingers curling around handfuls of his thick black hair. She'd thought the feel of his breath arousing as it wafted over her naked belly, yet the sensation was nothing compared to the feel of where his breath caressed her now.

She moaned, low and deep. Her hips came up off the ground.

Seizing the advantage, Connor slipped his hands beneath her, his palms cupping her bottom, his strong fingers kneading her pliant softness as he levered her up.

The strokes of his tongue became longer, fast, bolder.

"Dear God," Gabrielle rasped, her lower body moving in time to the rhythm his devouring mouth set.

It was happening too fast. Gabrielle longed somehow to slow down the frenzied pace of their lovemaking, to prolong and to enjoy to its sweet fullness each fiery sensation. Yet the exquisite things Connor was doing to her with his mouth and hands prevented that. His darting tongue was persistent, driving her insane, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Like a fragilely built dam threatened by a tumultuous flood, weakened and ready to explode, the now familiar feelings quickened in Gabrielle's loins, hot and insistent, demanding a natural, breathless culmination. She tried to resist, tried to hold back, tried to make the moment last, but it was no use. She might as well try to make her heart stop pounding, she'd have equally as much luck. In mere seconds, the tidal wave was upon her.

"Connor!" Gabrielle cried out as the pleasure overtook her, spasmodic surges of release washing all through her body, tightening her muscles in pulsating tides that carried her under and away on the deep, blissful undertow of raw sensation.

Connor gritted his teeth. With effort he trapped a rough groan in his throat. Her knees were bent, and the inside of her thighs cupped his ears, blotting out the sounds of the night blotting out everything except the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

The oh so sweet smell of her, the potently unique taste of her, the moist feminine heat of her surrounded him, engulfed him, threatened to drown him. His resilience was tested in a nerve-shattering way it had never been tested before. His scalp burned from the way she tightly fisted his hair, holding his mouth to her as though afraid he would divert his attention elsewhere. The sensation served to heighten his desire. It was all he could do not to surrender to the urge to cover her body with his, to thrust himself inside her, possess her.

And then, over the din of his heartbeat echoing in his ears, he heard her call out his name and his mouth and tongue felt her body convulse with the first spasms of release... and he knew he could not hold back a second longer.

Lowering her writhing hips to the ground, he eased his body on top of hers. The tip of his hard, throbbing shaft did not have to search long before finding its mark.

As one, their hips pushed forward simultaneously. A shudder rippled through Connor when he felt himself gloved by her gloriously tight, wet heat.

He stilled instantly, suddenly afraid to move. He wanted the moment to last for an eternity, yet if he moved now, it would be to plunge into that abyss of fulfillment. Dear God, nay, not yet!

Again, one palm slipped under her bottom, only this time it was to hold her to him as his other hand cradled the small of her back. He shifted, rolled, until it was he whose back was cradled against the leaf-strewn forest floor.

Her legs straddled his hips. Her full, ripe breasts were plastered to his chest; he was aware of every voluptuous curve of her. How could he not be? His fingers trembled as one of his hands slipped downward, the other up. Cradling the sides of her hips, he used his thumbs to lever her up until she sat atop him.

As he watched, her lips parted in an unspoken "Oh!" Her lashes flickered upward, her green eyes narrow and dazed with passion as her gaze met and held his.

Slowly, slowly, he guided her hips forward and back, lifted her gently, then pulled her down on top of him with a wee bit more force. She was an apt pupil; she learned the rhythm well and quickly put it to use by increasing the speed and variance to a dizzying pitch.

Connor swallowed hard. Had he really thought this position would delay his own release? More the fool he; he should have known better. Not only did it increase his own pleasure, but rekindled hers as well. Gabrielle had soon set a pace that had him gritting his teeth against the flood of sensations that rushed through him.

A fine sweat beaded on his brow and upper lip. More moistened the thatch of hair pelting his chest. His hips rose when hers came down, and he buried himself inside her as deeply as he could go.

Again.

And again.

And again.

One of them groaned, the sound deep and feral. Connor thought the sound came from himself, but truth to tell he had no time to analyze its whereabouts.

His skin tingled as her hands swept over his chest, down his arms. Her fingers opened, entwining with his as she moved frantically atop him.

The fringe of her long inky hair tickled his upper thighs as she tossed her head back, exposing the creamy expanse of her neck. Her breathing came hard and fast, the ragged give and take matched by his own as he again felt the ripples deep inside her that signaled another, stronger release.

She moaned something, the words slurred and her English accent so thick as to make them momentarily unintelligible.

He was lost. His fingers gripped her hips, pulling her down on top of him, guiding her hips in breath-snatching circles as he arched up into her, finally allowing himself to surrender to his own hot surge of completion.

The contractions went on and on, longer than he could remember them ever lasting before. They drained him dry, leaving him weak and depleted, as though he'd spilled not only his seed into her, but his very lifeforce.

Weakly, Gabrielle collapsed atop him.

And then Connor found himself again doing something he'd never done with a woman before.

He wrapped his arms about her and, cradling her close, their bodies still intimately joined, he eased them onto their sides, facing each other. Her right leg draped his naked hip, her hand rode the slight indentation of his waist. At another time, he might have found the gesture one of entrapment. Now, he did not.

Her head nestled perfectly in the crook that nature had carved between his neck and shoulder. Dark, fragrant curls teased his neck, their texture and scent a cool, soothing balm to his passion-burnt nerves. Breathing a sigh of raw contentment, he let his eyes flicker shut.

Connor knew the exact moment she fell asleep. It was the instant when her choppy breathing leveled out, when the muscles beneath his palms loosened. Although their lovemaking had left him equally depleted and drowsy, it took much longer for him to surrender to the heavy tug of sleep.

Instead, his mind played over and over the words Gabrielle had murmured at the moment of her release. Without passion driving him hard, blotting out everything else, he could now remember and understand exactly what it was she'd said.

She'd whispered huskily, "Connor, I love you..."

The words both shocked Connor to the core, and pleased him immensely. A strong surge of...
something
sparked in his blood, a need to shelter and protect that, oddly enough, did not stem from physical desire, but from something infinitely stronger and more enduring.

By her own uncoerced admission, Gabrielle Carelton had lost her heart to him.

And, sweet Jesus, but that changed
everything!

Chapter 14

"He was looking at ye again, lass," Ella said as she sidled her mare up close to Gabrielle's. "Should I ask what transpired between ye last night when ye both left camp? Or do I already ken the answer?"

Gabrielle's attention had been focused on the craggy ground that passed beneath her mare's hooves. At Ella's words, her gaze lifted, shifting forward, past the swaying backs of the two prisoners tied securely into the saddles of the pair of mounts positioned in front of her and Ella and behind Connor. The bits of both captives' horses had been tethered to Connor's saddle with a thick length of roughly hewn rope.

Connor's back was straight and proud, his attention focused determinedly forward. The ends of his hair brushed the broad shelf of his shoulder with each jostling stride of his horse. If he'd glanced back at her, as Ella seemed to think he had, there was no sign.

Shifting her attention, Gabrielle frowned at the girl. Perhaps she had meant one of the other men? "What are you talking about? Who is looking at me?"

"Connor," Ella answered promptly and honestly. A sly grin tugged at her mouth. "Who else?" A frown creased the creamy skin between her coppery brows. "I've been thinking on the matter, ye ken, and I cannot remember a time when I've seen me cousin look so... aye, confused. 'Tis the emotion I see in his eyes whene'er he glances at ye. If I dinny ken better, I'd think ye've bewitched him."

"I could say the same for you and Roy Maxwell. The man has barely taken his eyes off you all morning."