Gabriel’s smile was tenderly brutal.

“It’s difficult containing myself with you when you are so beautifully vulnerable. I’m envisioning several scenarios where you are utterly at my mercy.”

Celia swallowed. Gabriel would make sure she enjoyed every second of his form of captivity and punishment.

He trailed a finger over her collarbone, tracing the bones there and moving it down between her breasts, migrating to either side to encircle her aching nipples as they budded tight against his touch and the coolness of the room.

“I will remind you, ma dragee piquante, that you are mine in every sense of the word. Your body. Your kisses. Your breasts. Your sweet little quim. It’s all mine.” His fingertip made a line on her skin, drawing down her abdomen until he reached her belly button. He swirled around it, smiling when she shrank away from him because it tickled, before continuing on until he reached the juncture of her thighs.

He dipped between her swollen lips there, and Celia nearly swooned from the pleasure.

“Gabriel…”

“If claiming you, restraining you, lavishing pleasure upon you until you are hoarse from screaming my name makes me a savage bastard, then we both must accept it for what it is. The truth. And the godawful truth is I enjoy every second of seeing you fall apart at my hands.”

His face was stony with resolve, and yet Celia felt the gentleness of his touch. How carefully he handled her and how gently he stroked her flesh until she was gasping for air and melting for him. A wave of love swept over her. It was so strong she nearly claimed it aloud before biting her tongue.

“You are not a bastard,” she reminded him. “You are my husband.”

A smile touched his lips before he continued.

“Before we begin, you must tell me if I hurt you beyond the point of discomfort,” he said, the warning making her eyes close. “You will choose a word, Celia. One you would not normally use during intimate times like this.”

Celia’s eyes flew open. “Teacakes.”

Gabriel grinned. “Teacakes.”

“Yes. That is my word.” She sounded almost frantic. “I say ‘teacakes’ and you stop immediately.”

“Yes, pet. That is exactly what I will do,” he said gently. “You do trust me to stop, don’t you, Celia? Because what I’ve planned for you will not work if that trust does not exist.”

“Yes, Gabriel. I trust you. I do.”

“Then give me your hands.”

Biting her bottom lip, Celia obeyed, watching with increasingly shallow breaths as he expertly wove the cravat in an intricate pattern around her wrists. One tailpiece of the material was left dangling free. It was long enough to bind her to something else.

“Come here.” Gabriel tugged her forward, steadying her when she lost her balance. His hands gripped her waist, sure and tight and so hot they might have been burning bits of coal.

Leading her to one of the bedposts at the foot of the bed, Gabriel smiled because her skin was flushing pink with embarrassment. “I’m going to bind you to this post now. And you will give me your tears while I make you come for me. Do you understand?”