Then those hands…those superb male hands…slipped over her rib cage, his firm fingers kneading her skin. Her dress began to slip downward, over her hips, her stomach…and all at once she was conscious of what he would find, and she stiffened, preparing herself for the moment he felt her scar. It didn’t take long.
His fingers stopped on the flat skin of her stomach. “What the hell!” He put her away from him, twisting her toward the light shining in through the window to get a better look.
A flush seared her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I—”
“What happened?” he demanded, holding her h*ps firm, a muscle jerking in his cheek, an angry look exploding in his eyes. Angry and…pained.
She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. “A car accident. I know it looks horrible but—”
“No,” he growled. “It doesn’t.” And he fell on one knee to place his lips against the two-inch jagged scar radiating downward from her belly button.
She shuddered helplessly. Of all the things she expected, it wasn’t that he would touch her with such sensitivity. In a strange way it made her proud of him. Proud to be his woman, if only in a physical way.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“No need,” he muttered, and placed his lips against her scar one more time. Then his hands left her h*ps and cupped her bottom, pulling her forward and pressing his face against the very intimate part of her.
Her heart stopped for a long moment as he held her like that, as if discovering her scent again and reveling in it. She grasped his shoulders before her legs buckled beneath her.
He took a deep breath and moved back to slowly peel her panties down her legs. Leaning on him, she stepped out of them, but he stayed where he was, just looking at her.
Suddenly she felt self-conscious. Damien had been her only lover. And it had been five years since he’d seen her nak*d body like this. She went to cover herself, but he made a sound low in his throat and pushed her hands away, then began kissing his way upward, his lips like silk along her thighs, over the blond curls hiding her femininity, skimming up over the sensitized skin of her br**sts before anointing each nipple again, then moving up further and settling on her mouth.
His tongue danced with hers as he pulled her against him, his hardened body straining the material of his pants, sending a flash of heat through her. She was ready for him. More than ready.
“I want to feel you against me,” he rasped, and stepped back, stripping the clothes from his body so fast he made her head spin. She wanted to say “take your time, let me look,” but a more-eager part of her had a need low in her stomach at the sight of his obvious arousal.
He sank down on the bed behind him, drawing her close, positioning her so she stood between his legs. His mouth began to tease her n**ples and she closed her eyes, welcoming his touch, winding her fingers through his hair, holding his head tight between her hands.
Just when she thought she could no longer stand, when a cry of pleasure was about to burst from her lips, he lay back on the bed and slowly stretched her out alongside him, so they were facing each other.
She moaned, and buried her face against his throat, savoring the touch of every inch of masculine skin lining hers. Dear heaven, she only had to guide him inside her and they would be one.
For several long seconds they lay there, as if he too, were soaking up the feel of skin against skin, the rocking of the boat giving a lulling sensation to their lovemaking.
Then he leaned up on his elbow and slowly began to trace a fingertip over the top of her br**sts, his finger scorching everywhere he touched, down her cl**vage pressed tight by the angle of her body.
“Look,” he ordered thickly, his gaze descending between them. Her limbs quivered as she looked down to where their bodies touched. All the way down.
Man against woman.
“A perfect fit,” he said, his eyes now locked on hers.
She swallowed tremulously. “Yes,” she said, growing warm and welcoming, a wantonness forming in her lower limbs.
All at once he rose up over her toward the bedside table and took a condom out of the top drawer. “Here,” he said, handing it to her, a pulse beating in his neck.
The breath stalled in her throat. “Oh but—”
“You want me to wear it, don’t you?” he challenged in a raw mutter.
She moistened her lips. She couldn’t think. Yes. No. “Um…yes.”
“Then put it on me,” he rasped with his usual arrogance, only she couldn’t seem to respond in kind. Perhaps because she could see her effect on him. He couldn’t hide how he was feeling right now; it was an empowering thought.
She tried to open the small foil package but her fingers shook and she dropped it. Giving her a look that said he was pleased she wasn’t an expert in this, he took it and ripped it open with his teeth, then held it out to her.
But she didn’t take it just yet. Swallowing hard, she looked down at him and felt a sizzle run through her. She had wanted to touch him before, and now she would.
She reached out and slid her hand around his erection, hearing a groan rise up from his throat, making the breath hitch in her throat. His skin felt warm under her palms. Warm and vital and so very Damien.
Without warning he muttered, “No more,” then put his hand over hers and released her fingers from around him. In the blink of an eye, he rolled the condom on himself, moved her back against the bed, then nudged her thighs until she opened herself to him.
Only, he didn’t enter her just then. He waited, looking down at her with darkened eyes, the cords in his neck straining as he held his body above her…waiting…
“Come into me, Damien,” she said, sliding her palm over his chest.
And that was enough. On a groan, he pushed himself into her wet warmth.
Slowly.
Exquisitely.
Filling her with a sense of completeness.
Even five years ago their lovemaking hadn’t been as rich as this. It was much richer now in intensity, in depth, in experience.
And then he kissed her deeply as he moved erotically in and out. She loved the way he explored her inner womanhood with a thoroughness and pleasure that stamped her as his own, leaving no part of her untouched.
She moaned and inched toward the peak of desire. Unable to hold out against such an onslaught, she shut her eyes giddily. And she told herself to wait. That she wanted it to last forever. But her body wasn’t about to stop from rejoicing in their mating.
She escalated higher and higher, with nothing to hold on to except this man within her. “Damien, please… Damien, I need you…Damien…”
“Gabi,” he rasped, and she felt him pulsing into her, her own femininity cupping him tight in her cli**x, welcoming his sheathed essence.
A long moment later she was left with one thought and one thought only. The last time they’d made love he’d called her Gabi. And he’d been inside her back then, too.
The next morning Damien kept his eyes closed as he enjoyed the slight rocking of the boat and inhaled the scent of Gabrielle in the tropical air. It woke his body, arousing him with the pleasure of the night.
Many pleasures of the night.
He rolled on his side and reached for her, but his hand found a cool cotton sheet instead of a warm body. His eyes opened. She was probably in the bathroom. Or making coffee in the galley.
He listened for any sound of her. All was quiet. He sniffed the air and waited. Any minute now the aromatic smell of coffee would tantalize his nostrils. When nothing happened, he eased into a sitting position and looked around the cabin. Unless she’d jumped overboard, she’d still have to be on the yacht.
His heart started to thump. Or perhaps she’d taken the dingy. If she had, he’d kill her, he decided, throwing back the sheet, his gut knotting as he pulled on his trousers. He didn’t bother about a shirt as he took the stairs two at a time.
When he found her on the top deck, it took a moment to steady his heartbeat. Then he strode toward her and hauled her into his arms.
“Damien, what the—”
He dropped a fierce kiss on her lips. It was supposed to be an angry kiss for being foolish enough to leave him. Only, after a moment or two, with her palms flattened on his bare chest, he found he was more hungry for her than angry, more searching than punishing. He wanted her to know how waking up this morning without her had felt. It had been the same feeling he’d experienced five years ago.
He broke off the kiss and muttered, “There’s no escape.”
She looked confused. “I wasn’t trying to escape.”
Okay, he’d panicked. He wouldn’t do it again. “Tell me about the car accident.”
Her face closed up and she stepped out of his arms and went to sit down on a seat. “Why? Am I imperfect now, Damien?”
“No.” She was too damn perfect to look at. That was the problem. He winced inwardly. No, he didn’t quite mean that. Gabrielle wasn’t just about her looks.
She leaned back and stared up at him, gorgeous in white pants and a lime-green top. “What do you want to know?”
“How it happened. When did it happen. Everything.”
Her lips, still slightly swollen from his kiss, curved in a wry smile. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”
He didn’t find it remotely funny. “I’m telling, not asking.”
Her eyes clouded over. “Yes, that’s more your style.”
“Gabrielle, you’re procrastinating.” His eyes narrowed. “What are you hiding?”
She looked startled. “Nothing,” she said, much too fast for his liking. She moistened her delicious mouth. “Er…it happened a few months after I went to Sydney. I was a passenger in a car with one of Eileen’s daughters, Lara. This drunken idiot came out of nowhere and his car hit the front passenger side and some metal buckled and cut me.”
“Sweet Jesus!” The thought of it made him taste bile.
All at once she was looking at him as if realizing his shock. “Damien, I’m fine,” she said gently.
Her tone didn’t soothe him. He felt savage. Like he wanted to commit murder. “What happened to this idiot? He’d better be in jail.”
“I don’t know. I was in hospital for a few days, then I was too busy getting back on my feet.”
“If I’d known…” he growled, a burning sensation in his throat. “If Russell had known…”
An uneasy look entered her eyes. “Thankfully neither of you did.” As quickly, she drew herself up, a certain coolness taking over. “And thankfully neither of you had a say in my life after that.” She paused for effect. “I just wish you didn’t have a say now.”
The muscles at the back of his neck tensed. “You’re married to me, Gabrielle. From here on in, whatever happens, I want to know about it.”
Her eyes flashed with cynicism. “It didn’t take long for you to start trying to control me.”
He stared hard at her. She’d taken that the wrong way. He was concerned for her, not controlling. He wanted to make sure she’d didn’t get hurt again. God, he hated thinking about her trapped in a car. About her lying in hospital.