Page 149 of The Wallflower Takes All

“If you continue looking at me like that, I shall lose what little discipline I have left.”

A smile touched her lips. “Would that be so dreadful?”

“Yes,” he said, and kissed her again with enough hunger to make the word sound like a lie.

He drew her to the bed with tenderness that did nothing to hide his desire. When she lay back against the pillows, he followed only as far as she allowed, bracing himself above her while his gaze searched her face.

“I will go slowly,” he said.

“Gabriel.”

“Yes?”

“Stop telling me and show me.”

A sound escaped him, rough and low.

He kissed her throat first, then the slope of her shoulder, then lower. Poppy’s hands clenched in the coverlet when his mouth closed over her breast. The sensation was shocking, soft and sharp at once. His tongue moved with patient purpose, and when his hand found her other breast, she arched beneath him without thought.

“That,” he murmured against her skin. “Do that again.”

Poppy’s breath caught. “What?”

“Move for me. Let me know when you like something.”

The words sent heat through her more surely than his mouth. She arched again, less by accident this time, and his fingers tightened against her nipple.

“Yes,” he said, his voice darker. “That is what I wanted.”

He learned her attentively, thoroughly, with a concentration that made her feel both cherished and undone. His mouth moved from one breast to the other until she was restless beneath him, until every soft pull of his lips seemed to draw pleasure through her entire body. Made the ache between her legs nearly unbearable.

When his hand slid lower, between her thighs, Poppy went still.

Gabriel lifted his head. “May I?”

The question was reverent.

“Yes.”

His fingers touched her with exquisite care.

Poppy’s breath caught. In the drawing room, he had stroked her with slow, searching patience, learning which touches made her tremble. This was different. His fingertip found the place where sensation gathered most fiercely and began to move in small, deliberate circles.

Her body jolted beneath his hand.

“Gabriel.”

He pressed his mouth to her throat. “Too much?”

She shook her head quickly. “No. Only…different.”

A low sound of satisfaction rumbled against her skin. “Good.”

His fingers continued their maddening course, circling with steady precision. Each pass sent a sharper current through her, gathering every scattered spark of pleasure into one brilliant point. She clutched at his shoulders, unable to remain still beneath the relentless sweetness of it.

“You are so soft here,” he murmured against her cheek. “So warm. Poppy, you are wet for me.”

A small sound escaped her.