This was new. This was…exciting.
Until Gabe smiled at her before lowering his head to her breast. And suddenly, it was so much more than exciting. It was thrilling.
Stunned, Maggie watched him as he took her nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue over the sensitive tip. She arched her back and moaned gently, surprising herself with the helpless sound.
He lifted his head long enough to look at her and murmur, "Easy, Maggie. Just enjoy. Feel." And then he tipped his head again and went back to his ministrations. Maggie clutched at his shoulders, holding on for dear life to keep from sliding off a suddenly wildly tilting world. Again and again, she arched into him, helpless to hold off the swirling sensations crowding her body and mind. And then he suckled her and Maggie knew she would die from pure pleasure.
Drawing, tugging, pulling at her body, it was as though he was trying to take her inside him. When that thought presented itself, Maggie groaned again, giving in to the needs erupting within. She reached for him and held his head to her breast, loving the feel of his mouth on her. His tongue. His hot breath dusting her skin. If she could have, she would have kept him there forever, intimately linked with her, loving her.
Her body hummed with a frantic need.
He redoubled his efforts when she touched him and his fierce loving brought a new rush of sensation that seemed to be pooling at her center. She lifted her hips and as though he heard her silent plea, Gabe slid one of his hands down, across her abdomen, past the soft triangle of hair to the juncture of her thighs.
Maggie gasped, lifting her hips into his touch. He smiled against her breast and continued to suckle her as his fingers delved into her warmth. In and out of her heat he went, sending her higher and higher with every stroke.
She didn't know what to do. Her hands moved over his head and shoulders, as if searching for purchase. Her hips rocked of their own accord as she instinctively reacted to his intimate caresses. Her body tightened. Her breath caught and held in her lungs, making her lightheaded.
She stared blindly up at the twilight ceiling overhead. Her heartbeat jumped erratically. Mouth dry, throat closed, she yearned for something she didn't recognize. It was waiting for her. Just out of reach, it hovered so closely she could almost see it. Feel it. Never had she known anything like this. Never. The wonder. The fire of it.
His thumb rubbed an especially sensitive piece of flesh and Maggie's body jerked as she gasped his name aloud.
"Gabe," she whispered brokenly. "Help me. Oh, God." Her hips rocked. Her body reached. "Please. Help me.”
He lifted his head from her breast, looked down into her face and smiled gently. "Let go, Maggie."
"I can't," she told him, almost paralyzed with the fear of the unknown. What if she gave in to this overwhelming sensation and her mind shattered? What then?
"Trust me, Maggie," he said softly and bent to give her a quick, hard kiss. "Trust me, and let go."
"Gabe…?" It seemed she had no choice. Her body overruled her mind. She dug her short fingernails into his shoulders, lifted her hips again, and as his fingers dipped inside her one more time, felt an explosion detonate deep within her. Bright light filled her. A pulsing shimmer of sensation coursed through her body over and over again like waves pounding onto the shore. She trembled with the force of it, moaned his name again, and held on tightly as the tremors continued to wrack her body.
And as the last of it faded, Gabe moved, peeled off his trousers, and knelt between her thighs. She looked up at him and, through dazed eyes, watched him join his body to hers.
Gabe pushed himself home and paused long enough to enjoy the rightness of being within her. Still pulsing with the last of her release, her body closed around his, and the tight, close feel of her was almost enough to spark his own climax.
But he wanted more. He knew he'd given her something tonight that she'd never known. He'd shown her what a man and a woman could find together. But along with Maggie's discovery, Gabe had discovered something himself. Making love was so much more than simple pleasure. When it was the right woman, the right time, "joy" wasn't a big enough word to describe what happened between them.
"Gabe,” she said and limply reached for him.
He leaned over her, loving the feel of her arms coming around him. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest and he felt her shiver as he moved within her.
"Now you," she whispered, catching his face in her hands. Pulling him down for a kiss, she said, “I want you to feel what I just felt."
He turned his head to plant a kiss on her palm before saying, "I felt everything you did, Maggie. And more."
It was the truth. He'd never experienced anything like it before. He was a man who had always believed in sharing the pleasure of lovemaking. But not once before tonight had he ever taken such joy out of simply watching a woman experience a soul-shattering release.
His life before this night, this woman, had been an empty thing. And it was finding this treasure trove of feeling that underlined that simple truth. Here in this place, with this woman, Gabe had discovered what wonders life could offer.
And there was a part of him still rational enough to know he'd found it too late.
But tomorrow would be soon enough to mourn what he could never have for his own. Tonight was a time to be thankful that he'd found her at all.
Staring down into her liquid brown eyes, Gabe felt a rush of warmth rise up and take over. He wanted to give her so much. He wanted to be with her. Be a part of her life.
She gave him a languid smile and trailed her fingertips across his back. Gabe shuddered and surrendered to his most immediate need. He needed to find the end of his own desire. He needed to empty himself into her warmth and feel the slow slide into oblivion.
Desire simmered inside him, urging him on. He rocked his hips against her then, pushing himself even deeper inside her. Her body cradled his in a gentle, tight grasp. Maggie moaned, tipped her head back and sighed as he moved again, increasing the rhythm of the dance.
His blood roaring in his ears, Gabe gave himself up to the joy to be found with Maggie.
She locked her legs around his hips, holding him to her. Her hands gripped at his shoulders, and as the end came near, Gabe bent his head and took her mouth in a soul-searing kiss that bound them together even as the world around them splintered in a sea of light and magic.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabe collapsed atop her and used the last of his strength to brace some of his weight on his hands, at either side of her head. But Maggie had other ideas and, wrapping her arms around his middle, pulled him fully atop her.
“I’m too heavy for you, Maggie," he said and brushed a kiss along her neck.
"It's a good weight," she told him quietly. "And I’m not ready to let you up just yet.”
Truth be told, he wasn't any more ready to disengage himself from her. He liked things just as they were, thanks. "Whatever you say, ma'am," he said and rested his head in the crook of her neck.
"Besides," she added, "if you move right now, I think I might shatter."
He knew just what she meant.
"Gabe." she said, what could have been minutes or hours later. He wasn't sure which. And didn't care, either.
“Mm-hmm?"
"What was that?”
"What was what?” he asked, though he knew damn well what she was talking about. No matter what happened to him in the coming eternity, he would never forget the rush of stunned pleasure that had crossed her face.
"What I felt," she said. "It was almost like dying and then coming back to life again.”
There he'd argue. It was nothing like dying. He knew. "That," he murmured, "was something you should have felt long before tonight, Maggie."
"You mean," she asked, still a little breathlessly, “that's supposed to happen every time?"
He smiled to himself and, groaning quietly, pushed himself up onto one elbow so he could look down into her face. “Ah, Maggie," he said and reached to brush he
r paint-spattered hair back from her face. “Making love should be a pleasure to both people."
"Pleasure," she repeated and shook her head gently. "Seems a small word for such a huge…" Her voice faded off, as she gave up trying to find a word to describe what they had shared.
"Yeah, I know."
"And I used to wonder why Kersey enjoyed himself so much." She shook her head and shot him a look. "So, it's like that for a man every time?”
She almost sounded outraged on behalf of her gender. And a part of him didn't blame her. A half-smile curved one corner of his mouth. "It's good," he admitted, then confessed, "but for me, tonight was different. Better."
"How?”
He grinned at her. "Fishing for compliments?”
"Maybe," she said and lifted one hand to stroke her fingertips along his chest.
He sucked in a breath, shifted position, and Maggie gasped, her body still sensitive. Going perfectly still, Gabe looked down at her and said softly, "Hard to move, just yet.”
"Then don't.”
"All right." He'd just as soon stay right where he was, anyway. Actually, he'd prefer staying this way until forever ended.
“Tell me," she said softly as she ran her palms up and down his back. "Have you always felt that… amazing?"
"No," Gabe told her honestly. "Like I said, tonight was special. It was better this time, because of you."
"Good." She smiled. "That's what I wanted to hear!”
“It's true."
"I believe you. It was special." She shifted slightly and practically purred. "Well, Gabriel Donovan, you can do that to me anytime."
Anytime.
Her words hit him unexpectedly hard. His features tightened and he did a slow roll to one side, carefully separating his body from hers. She moved into the curl of his arm and cuddled close to his side.
Anytime? There was no time for them. His last remaining weeks on earth were winding down faster than he would have thought possible. All too soon, he'd be separated from her forever. And suddenly, forever sounded a damn sight longer than it had a couple of months ago.
“Gabe?” she asked. "What's wrong?"
What wasn't wrong? he asked himself silently. Jesus, what had he been thinking? He lifted one hand, pushed his hair back from his face, and stared up at the glittering, quartz-starred ceiling. But he wasn't seeing Maggie's creation. He was seeing the face of the Devil he knew was expecting him in less than a month.
Damn it, how could he have forgotten even for a moment that he didn't have the right to lie with Maggie?
How could he have given in to his own desires at her expense? God, what if she was pregnant? Then what? She'd be forced to carry the child of yet another man who'd abandoned her. A hard, short laugh shot from his throat. And he'd called her late husband all kinds of a bastard for hurting her?
Hell, compared to him, Kersey Benson was a damned saint.
At least he'd married her before bedding her.
Shame rippled through him with the realization that maybe the Devil wasn't all wrong about him after all. Hell, this was pretty damned low. He'd taken a good woman he cared about without thought for what the future would bring her.
And as long as he was silently admitting to being a bastard, he had to admit that most of his life had been led the same way. Selfish pursuits had guided him, always. What he wanted. When he wanted. He'd never gone out of his way to help a living soul. No worse than most of the men he'd known, he was certainly no better either.
Gabe had slid through life, never touching anything real. He'd existed only in smoky bars and whorehouses. His friends were those on the wrong side of the law. His enemies…or marks…the very people he should have admired. At least they worked and sweated and prayed and tried to do the right thing.
Not like him. When he died, there'd be no one to mourn him. And the world would go on nicely with one less cardsharp. There'd be no sign that Gabe Donovan had passed this way. He'd never made a mark on the world to show that he'd lived.
Never once loving and taking a stand.
All at once a flicker of a wild-haired, completely insane idea jumped to life from some dark corner of his brain. And as soon as it did, Gabe knew it was the only thing to do. The one thing he could do for Maggie to protect her after he was gone. And maybe, just maybe, it might be enough to wipe away some of the shame of how he'd frittered his life away.
“Gabe!" She went up on one elbow, stared down at him and gave his chest a slap with the palm of her hand.
"Huh?" Pulled abruptly from the whirling thoughts spinning through his mind, he blinked and looked up at her.
“What's going on? What's the matter?"
"Never mind, Maggie," he said quickly and grabbed her upper arm. "There's something more important we have to talk about. I want you to marry me. Soon. This week. Hell, tomorrow."
She stared at him blankly for a long moment and he watched several different emotions cross her features.
Excitement, joy, confusion, and finally, regret.
"Don't say no," he warned her before she could speak the doubts obviously plaguing her.
"Of course I'm going to say no," she said.
“Damn it, Maggie.”
"I'm not going to marry you," she told him. "I hardly know you.”
"You just got to know me pretty damned well," he reminded her. Damn it, she couldn't turn him down. Not when he'd finally found a way to make amends. Not only for what he'd done to her, but for what he'd done most of his life.
"That was different," she said and whipped her hair behind her shoulder.
“How is that different?" he demanded and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "You slept with me. So marry me."
"No."
Dumbfound he stared at her. He'd never considered for a minute that she might turn down his proposal. What sane woman would have? Hell, any woman in her right mind would say yes to a marriage proposal from the man who'd just made love to her.
“What do you mean, no?”
“Why are you so suddenly set on marriage?"
"Jesus!" He threw his arms wide and glared at her. "How can you ask me that after what just happened?"
Not to be outdone, Maggie sat up, too, and matched him glare for glare. “Excuse me," she said, "but aren't you the man who not so long ago told me to stop worrying about what other people think? To be who I am? To do what I thought best?"
Now she listens to him? "I was talking about your painting and not trying to be a cook when you're so obviously not."
"There's no reason to be insulting."
"I was not talking about your carrying a child that didn't have a father."
She blanched slightly and he knew he'd struck a nerve.
"That's right," he said, his voice low and hard, demanding to be heard. “Think about it, Maggie. A baby. And you unmarried."
"I'm probably not pregnant," she said, though her tone lacked conviction.
"Yeah. And I wonder just how many women have said that over the centuries." He cocked his head. "Don't you?"
"Some of them were right"
“Most of 'em were wrong," he reminded her. "You feeling lucky?"
She inched backward on the floor and stretched out one hand until she found her nightgown. Then she grabbed it up and yanked it on over her head. Shoving her arms through the sleeves, she said, "Fine. You want to get married. Does this mean you love me?”
He rubbed one hand across the back of his neck. "I care for you."
"Well, you certainly know how to sweet-talk a girl."
“Damn it Maggie," he complained, still rubbing his neck.
She pointed at him. "I've noticed that you do that a lot when you're trying not to lose your temper."
He let his hand drop to his side, looked at her and snapped, "Well, it's not working."
"Uh-huh,” Maggie said. Shoving her long sleeves up to her elbows, she stood up, planted her hands on her hips, then looked down at him. "So. You want to marry me and you don't lov
e me."
"Yes," he said, then paused "I mean, no. At least—“
"I know,” she interrupted. "You care for me."
She made it sound like nothing. Well, it was a damn sight more than he'd ever felt for any other woman in his life.
"Yes. I do."
"Uh-huh." She folded her arms across her chest. "And if we get married, does this mean you'll be staying in Regret?"
Shit.
A moment ticked by. Then two. Images of the Devil waiting on him flooded his mind. He thought seriously about lying, but then figured if he lied to get her to marry him, that would pretty much take all the good out of what he was trying to do.
"No," he said tightly. "I can't stay.”
Buttoning up the collar of her nightgown, Maggie shot him a furious glare. “So you're still leaving me, you don't love me, but I should marry you anyway. Why would I do that?"
"Because," he grumbled, grabbing up his pants and standing up to rug them on, "even when I'm gone, if you're married, it won't matter if you're pregnant.”
"I'll still be alone," she told him and stepped close enough to poke him in the chest with her index finger.
Judging by the glint in her eye, he should have been grateful she wasn't holding a knife. Damn it, he didn't want to hurt her. He was trying his best to find a way to take care of her from the grave. Why couldn't she see that?
"Nothing more to say?” she asked.
“One more thing,” he said.
“Go ahead."
“Marry me and you'll still be alone, granted. But your baby wouldn't be a bastard."
She actually flinched at the hard word.
“You think that would matter to me?" She clapped one hand to her breast.
"No," he said and finished buttoning his pants. "But it would sure as hell matter to my kid."
My kid. Jesus. Two little words. Who knew how hard they'd hit him? Instantly, his mind filled with images of the child he and Maggie could have had. Might have together. Her wide mouth, his blue eyes. Her laughter, his card sense. Her gift for loving. His gift for…what? Messing up?
Catch a Fallen Angel Page 19