Gabriel’s hand cupped her breast. Even through the gown’s fabric, his palm scorched the flesh. Celia sighed, pressing closer into his touch. Gabriel was always warm, an inferno of heat and muscles and temptation.

His mouth traveled from hers and made a searing path down the column of her neck. Open mouth kisses were interspersed with sharp nips of his teeth to the delicate skin. Celia gasped at the overwhelming sensation of being consumed and worshipped. She was held in such thrall she couldn’t muster the concern that his hands were involved in sinful things.

“Be mine, Celia.” His demand was repeated while nipping her ear.

One palm openly stroked and caressed her breasts, his fingers pinching the nipples with deliberate intent until the sting penetrated the layers of cloth. When that same hand dipped into the bodice of her gown, forcing the material to gape and allow him better access, Celia did not stop him. She arched her back, offering herself up like a sacrifice to a lion.

Gabriel’s growl of pleasure reverberated through Celia. Somehow, between the wicked fingers plucking at her breast and the scorching fire of his mouth on her throat, she had not noticed his free hand gathering fistfuls of her skirts. His palm now skated dangerously close to her aching, needy center.

A yearning that he touch her there as he had in the forest swamped Celia. She trembled in his embrace, hips tilting toward his hand. All conscious thought left her mind, leaving it a blank canvas that only Gabriel could paint with color.

God help her if she actually accepted his proposal.

“Ma dragee picquante.”

My prickly sugarplum.

He muttered the words against her neck, fingers ripping the delicate fabric of her drawers with careful brutality. One thick digit slid inside her wet heat while his other hand twisted the hardened peak of her nipple.

Celia moaned in distressed pleasure, writhing with need and want and the terrible knowledge she could never fully be his.

“Yes, Celia. Come on my hand now,” Gabriel crooned in her ear. “Show me how this sweet, little quim will squeeze my cock when I take you the first time. Moan for me as I fuck you with my fingers. Show me that you belong to me. You’re so goddamn tight and sweet.”

A wave of desire crashed through Celia at the filthy words Gabriel uttered. Her knees buckled until only his massive strength held her aloft. Clutching his shoulders tighter, her fingernails dug into the dark fabric of his coat. The pressure created by his finger built until it was an unmanageable force.

A thunderstorm roiled through Celia, sweeping her up into the heavens and shattering her with flashes of lightning.

“Fuck,” Gabriel groaned as her climax began shaking its way through her body. “So beautiful. So perfect. So fucking mine.”

There was a murmur of voices. Others. People nearby. Caught in a whirlwind of ecstasy, Celia became semi-conscious of the chance of discovery. But she couldn’t stop riding the waves of pleasure. She may have even tried crying out, but Gabriel anticipated it before the sound broke free of her throat.