Like a man coming to worship, he knelt before her.

A strangled moan leaked from Celia’s throat when his thumbs spread the undergarment fabric apart, exposing pale, pink flesh to his avid gaze. Gabriel’s jaw clenched with an aching hunger. It took everything within him not to fall upon her like a ravaging beast.

Damn, she was beautiful. All wet silk and cream and heat. Every crevice and fold begging for his mouth.

A wash of light scarlet colored her neck and cheeks. Her hands fluttered in a bird-like motion as if she considered stopping him.

Which was very foolish now that her sweet, feminine scent was in his nostrils and the flavor of her skin permeated his lips. He would not stop now. This was fate. His. Hers. Their unavoidable destiny.

“Grip the arms of the chair, Celia. Do not let go until I give you permission.”

Celia hesitated, then did as Gabriel requested. Her head fell back against the cushioned seat in surrender. She trembled, the tiny flutters tickling his fingertips as he held her open. Their eyes remained locked as he gave her a crooked grin.

“You may wish to scream, but I advise against it.”

Celia nodded, clutching the chair with such ferocity her knuckles whitened.

“If you should find it difficult remaining silent, I shall help you,” he continued. “My hand over your mouth, perhaps?”

He recognized the confusion and a glint of fear in the depths of her velvety brown eyes. She was working out such a scenario in her head and how he might accomplish such a feat.

What it would mean to be under his control and so helpless. So vulnerable. He was hard as stone imagining the depraved things he would do with her if given the opportunity.

“A single stocking would serve well as a gag.” Gabriel’s tone turned contemplative, a wicked smile tilting his lips upward. “Or maybe I should utilize something more intimate.” His fingers stroked the fabric of her underdrawers.

Celia’s eyes widened all the more. “I-I shall be quiet. I swear it.”

Gabriel hummed his approval.

His head lowered.

His mouth covered her sex.

He drank her in as though she were the finest of spirits.

And he became a man undone.

CHAPTER 12

Could Gabriel feel her shaking? Could he feel the imperceptible tremors quaking just below the surface of her skin?

His breath was so warm. Celia tensed, her exposed flesh reacting in the most elemental way to Gabriel’s nearness. Leaning her head back against the chair, she stared at the coffered ceiling above her and waited in a state of horrible anticipation for something to happen.

Then his mouth was on her. Determined and hungry. Unavoidable. And so gently possessive, Celia’s world tilted.

“Oh, God.” The whimper escaped her, and Gabriel responded with a dark chuckle of pleasure.

“Focus on me, Celia, and save those prayers until I’m done with you.”

His tongue traced her, learning the shape of her flesh. He licked and nibbled, absorbing every tiny sound Celia made. And his hands remained locked on her, keeping her spread wide as his firm lips and hot mouth drove her to the brink of utter madness.