It almost made him laugh, but his amusement was cut short by her hands roaming across his chest, exploring and scratching lightly, before descending down to the waistband of his briefs. Her fingers lingered there, wandering back and forth again, while her lips pressed onto his shoulder. Her mouth was warm, and she brushed her lips across his collar-bone on the right, then the left side, before sinking her teeth gently into the flesh of his shoulder. Gabriel closed his eyes and sighed. The scent of her filled his nostrils, the hot rush of her breath dancing over his flesh, the weight of her hip leaning against his, the smoothness of her leg massaging his calf.

She touched his arms, her index finger dipping into the bend of each of his elbows. Her mouth slid in alongside his cheek, perilously close to his lips, but she didn’t touch them. She brushed the stubble on his chin, traced the line of each cheekbone, ran her lips over his eyelashes, and buried her mouth and nose in his hair, her chest pressing against his, while he lay with his hands clenched at his sides, heart racing, palms sweating. Her touch was sweet and delicate and sensual, and he felt the appreciation, the wonder of her feelings for him, and he was humbled, satisfied, even as his body ached for her. It was worth the torment to have the feel of her fingers and her soft lips on him, and he watched her, the light from the hotel lamp casting shadows over her smooth skin.

Sitting up, she took her tank top off and Gabriel saw her bare breasts for the first time, her nipples taut and mere inches from his mouth. Her breasts were small and high, proportioned for her petite frame, and her blond hair spilled over her shoulders. She had slight tan marks, but it looked like it was from her tanks instead of a bathing suit, and he wanted to run his finger over the white line of her skin, but he didn’t. Nor did he encircle her waist, her back, bury his lips in her neck, when she leaned forward and pressed the warmth of her chest against his, her nipples brushing over him.

She sighed at impact, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. He groaned.

“I wish you weren’t so damn noble,” she said. “I wish you were cruel and heartless and were perfectly willing to risk my becoming enslaved . . . I wish you would touch me everywhere, with your fingers, your lips, your tongue.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You don’t really mean that.”

Sara peeled down his briefs, on her knees in front of him, and she glanced up at him over the length of his erection. “Right at this moment, yes, I absolutely do. I want you to be a total bastard and fuck me.”