Gabriel grinned into the dark. "Countess."
She gasped as she landed in his lap. It took only an instant for his fingers to find her veil, and then his lips were on hers.
It was a searing kiss-he made sure of that. A kiss to steal her wits, to make her senses reel. A kiss to light her fires, and his.
Her lips softened the instant his firmed; they parted the second he traced their contours. She melted in his arms as he grew more rigid; he didn't lift his head until she was dazed and dizzy, too breathless to utter the words her whirling mind couldn't begin to form.
He hesitated only a moment, their heated breaths mingling in the dark, the rhythm of their breathing already fragmented. He sensed her yearning, sensed the swollen, parted, hungry lips less than an inch from his.
Closing the distance, he sealed her fate. And his.
This time, however, he was determined to remain in control, to orchestrate their play until the very end. He'd plotted and planned and fantasized. After he'd had his wicked way with her and treated her to the full spectrum of sensations an experienced lover could evoke, he would wager his hard-won reputation that she wouldn't wait days to return to him.
His lips on hers, he quickly dispensed with her cloak and set her veil fully back. Drawing back from their kiss, he let his fingertips linger over the delicate skin of her forehead, the arch of her brows, the sweep of her cheeks. Her jaw was firm and finely wrought, her throat long, slender… elegant.
At the base of her throat, her pulse beat hotly. The scooped neckline of her gown revealed the upper swells of her full breasts. His fingers traced; his memories strengthened. Need burgeoned.
Her breath shivered on his lips; she quivered in his arms.
"Your coachman. What instructions did you give?"
She drew in a shaky breath; he sensed her struggle to think. "I told him to drive slowly around the avenue… until we'd finished our meeting."
"Perfect." Reaching up, he rapped on the carriage roof. A second later, the carriage lurched, then ponderously rolled forward.
She straightened. "I-"
Her breath caught on a hitch as, lowering his arm, he closed his hand possessively about one breast. He kneaded and she shuddered. Nudging her head up, he took her lips again, and set himself to cast her wits to the wind.
It wasn't difficult; she put up no resistance to speak of. She seemed a natural in this sphere, a deeply sensual woman, her consciousness surrendering willingly to the moment, to the physical thrill, the sexual excitement, the indescribable delight of give and take.
At first, it was he who took and she who gave, then he mentally drew back, inwardly reasserted control, then deliberately embarked on his script, his carefully plotted plan to bind her to him with sensual chains.
His lips on hers, he reached for her laces.
Divesting her of her gown was no great feat, not to one of his extensive experience. But he accomplished the deed slowly, savoring every inch of her curves as he exposed them, much to her shivering delight.
Not that she was cold. Thick curtains sealed the carriage windows. With their heated bodies enclosed within the small space, she would be in no danger of taking a chill despite the totality of his plans. That was just as well as, with her warm weight across his thighs, her luscious curves filling his arms and her hungry lips under his, he was in no state to rework them. Tonight, fate was on his side.
Lifting her, he eased the soft gown past her hips, then set her down, the bare backs of her thighs, exposed beneath her short chemise, in direct contact with his trousers. Through their kiss, he sensed the heightening of her tension. He set out to heighten it some more.
Deepening the kiss, he held her steady, one arm about her. Closing his hand on her bare thigh, he brushed her gown down by caressing her long limbs, first down one leg, then the other. Swiping up the gown, he tossed it on the seat beside him, and caught her foot. He slipped her shoe off, surprised to note its weight. As he dispensed with the other, he realized the heels were high. Skimming his hand up one leg, he located her garter, a few inches above her knee.
He toyed with the band. On? Or off? He reviewed his plan. Her lips shifted under his; she struggled to draw breath, to surface from the fog of desire in which he was deliberately shrouding her. He stilled her with a searching, ravishing kiss, and quickly rolled her stockings down and off, sending them to join her gown.
Leaving her clad only in her silk chemise.
He drew her to him, deeper into his embrace; tipping her head back, he plundered her mouth. She responded ardently, caught up in the hot tangle of their tongues, the melding of their lips.
His quick fingers slipped the tiny buttons closing her chemise free, all the way to her navel. The instant the last slipped its mooring, he closed his fist in the fine garment; pulling back from the kiss, he drew the chemise up and over her head in one movement.
"Oh!" She grasped, not the chemise, but her veil.
His steadying hand now on bare skin, he grinned into the dark. Discarding the chemise, he reached for her face, touching gently, then framing her jaw. "Your veil's still there." That was part of his plan, having her totally naked except for that damned veil.
Her hands fluttered; the fingers of one touched the back of his hand as he drew her face nearer. He touched her lips with his tongue and they parted; he surged in, then retreated, settling to nibble, tantalize, tease… until she shifted on his thighs, trying to press her own demands, unsure what those demands should be.
He knew. Urging her hands, her arms, over his shoulders, he drew her around. Clasping one bare calf, savoring the smooth skin, he drew the limb up, lifting that leg over his thighs as he turned her, then released her, leaving her, blissfully naked but for her veil, sitting astride his long thighs.