Gabriel's Mate

“I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

She seemed to breathe easier as he pressed her heated body to his. She appeared hotter than when he’d held her only minutes earlier. The doctor was right, if he didn’t satisfy her, she would burn up.

He wouldn’t undress her in order to leave her as much dignity as possible under the circumstances. And he wouldn’t take any of his clothes off either so he could maintain a semblance of distance. Only his hand would touch her under cover of her nightgown. He wouldn’t look at her naked body, only touch her. That way she would understand that he’d had no choice and that he’d tried everything not to take advantage of her.

Gabriel tipped her chin up with his hand and brought his lips to hers for a feather light kiss. They tasted of salt and woman, fertile and willing. He knew he shouldn’t kiss her, but when he inhaled her scent, his body shut down his brain, and all he could do was react to the age-old knowledge of the mating call.

How he knew she was his, he couldn’t explain, but his instinct told him that the woman in his arms was perfect for him. He’d never felt the same way for anybody else, not even for Jane, the wife who’d left him after their wedding night. He’d never felt the connection he felt to Maya, like their lifelines were interlinked, one only complete with the other.

The more he inhaled her scent the deeper he felt the connection to her life force. When her lips parted under his, he invaded her and captured her tongue with his, stroking and licking, dancing and withdrawing. His saliva mingled with hers, and the taste of their combined fluids drugged him. He knew then that something was happening between them that couldn’t be explained by mere lust and attraction. He would talk to the doctor about it, but not now. Now, he had to save the woman he loved.

Loved?

The realization jolted him. And then it soothed him.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, then trailed his mouth along her neck to kiss her heated skin. He smelled the enticing scent of her blood coming from her plump vein and growled. His fangs lengthened and pushed passed his lips.

He jerked away from her. No, he couldn’t bite her, couldn’t allow himself to perform the highly intimate act of drinking from his woman if she hadn’t permitted it. His, yes, he called her his, because for right now that’s what she was: his.

His gaze swept over her trembling body and the blood-red nightgown she wore. A nightgown that barely covered her to mid-thigh, the fabric so thin, he could clearly see the outline of her hard nipples sitting on top of her plump breasts. The gown’s spaghetti straps moved whenever her body twisted, and eventually they would drop from her shoulders and release the fabric covering her perfectly round globes.

Gabriel’s hand slid to those breasts and cupped one of them. It filled his hand, the hard nipple rubbing against the center of his palm. His thumb explored her, caressed her flesh through the silk and grazed her nipple.

Her tossing stopped, and she arched into his touch. Without thinking, he pulled on the fabric, dislodged the strap and freed the beautiful mound he was fondling. Her skin was soft and smooth. Dropping his head, he licked his tongue over the nipple. He realized instantly that despite her semiconscious state she felt what he was doing: her hand slid onto the back of his neck to hold him to her breast.

“Yes,” she mumbled, her voice sounding relieved as if she’d waited for a long time for this to happen. Did she want him? Did she know it was him who touched her?

Gabriel sucked the beautiful flesh deeper into his mouth and continued circling his tongue over the captured nipple while at the same time kneading her breast in his palm. He couldn’t get enough of the feel of her, the texture of her skin, the scent of it.

He felt his pants constrict as his cock rapidly pumped full with blood and went hard in anticipation. Only, it would be in vain. The message that he wouldn’t fuck her had obviously not reached his rampant cock.

He trailed his fingers down over her stomach, the thin silk bunching under her breasts. Going past her thighs he reached underneath her nightgown, reversed his travels and moved back north. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he touched her panties. Instantly, she moaned and arched her back off the bed.

Maya’s panties were soaked with her arousal, a scent so intense it nearly robbed him of all reason. Trying to tamp down his lust, he stroked his fingers against the wet fabric and clearly felt her warm female flesh underneath.

“Oh, God, Maya,” he despaired, not knowing how to hold himself back, how not to ravish her when every cell in his body screamed for him to take her.

Despite the fact that he’d promised himself not to look at her naked skin—well, he’d already broken that promise by exposing her breasts—he pulled down her panties and laid her bare. Her dark curls were trimmed in a slim bikini line, pointing down toward the core of her body. As if he needed any further directions.