Page 151 of The Wallflower Takes All

His smile was brief and devastating. Then he kissed her again, and the laughter faded into want.

He undressed fully while Poppy watched. The sight of him—aroused, powerful, no longer perfectly controlled—made her throat go dry.

He returned to the bed, but he did not come over her at once. Instead, he kissed his way down her body, over her ribs, her stomach, the sensitive dip beside her hip.

Poppy pushed herself up on her elbows. “Gabriel?”

He looked up at her from between her thighs, and the sight alone nearly undid her.

“I want my mouth on you,” he said.

Her entire body went hot. “There?”

“Yes.” His hands moved over her knees, parting them with maddening care. “Here. Unless you tell me no.”

She swallowed. “Is that…something people do?”

His mouth curved against the inside of her thigh. “People with any sense.”

That startled a laugh out of her, but the laugh broke when he kissed lower.

“Lie back,” he said softly. “Let me please you.”

Poppy obeyed.

His mouth touched her where his fingers had been, and she nearly came off the bed. A cry tore from her before she could swallow it. Gabriel’s hands held her hips, firm and reassuring.

“There,” he murmured. “That is the sound I wanted.”

“Gabriel.”

“I know.” His breath moved over her, hot and intimate. “You taste sweet. You feel even sweeter when you tremble.”

The words were indecent. The pleasure was worse. Better. Impossible.

His tongue moved slowly at first, then with more certainty when she began to shake. He kissed her there with the same careful devotion he had given her mouth, only this felt more wicked, more consuming, more unbearably intimate. Poppy twisted her hands in the sheets, helpless beneath the slow stroke of his tongue.

“Do not hide from me,” he said, lifting his head just enough to speak. “I want every sound.”

“I cannot?—”

“You can.”

Then his mouth returned to her, and the words dissolved into a cry. Pleasure gathered quickly this time, sharpened by the sight of his head between her thighs, by the steady pressure of his hands, by the impossible knowledge that controlled, proper Gabriel Ashby was taking her apart with his mouth.

Her release broke hard and fast. She gasped his name, her body tightening beneath his hands while he stayed with her through every helpless wave.

When he came back over her, his mouth was glistening and his restraint visibly frayed.

Poppy touched his face. “You looked pleased with yourself.”

“I am trying very hard not to look unbearably smug.”

“You are failing.”

“Good.” He kissed her, and she tasted herself on him. The shock of it sent heat through her all over again. “I want you to know what you do to me.”

She felt him against her thigh, hard and hot, and understood at once.