Gabriel might not have fumbled and stammered and blushed with Olivia, but he still understood how Gwynn felt, that terror of losing what he had if he took the next step. While he had not been so acutely anxious about Olivia and Ricky, he had to admit that he found a patch of common ground with Gwynn here, too. Ricky was younger, more charming, better-looking, and much easier to get on with. The only clear advantage Gabriel had was his bank account…which Olivia did not need and would not have wanted even if she did.

As for sex…yes, he would be honest there. That was where he feared Ricky had him beat. Gabriel knew Olivia liked sex, and he knew it was not his area of expertise, having never been a skill he’d cared to improve. If he was better at it, women might not be so willing to let him slip out before morning.

And yet, that worrying had been for naught. The key, it seemed, was simply to care. To care that she enjoyed herself, to care enough to pay attention. To watch and listen and feel her responses and use them as a guide, and those responses were their own reward, the satisfaction of knowing he pleased her, and the more he pleased her, the more she responded in kind.

Quid pro quo, he thought with a chuckle.

If Gabriel could give Gwynn any advice, that would be it. You love her. You care about her. You want her to be happy. Keep all that in mind, and you’ll do fine.

Of course, he could say no such thing, not to a memory of events long past, and all that passed in a heartbeat anyway—Gwynn’s anxieties and Gabriel’s reflections. Matilda was still lying there, awaiting a response as Gwynn stammered.

“Do you want to stop?” she asked carefully. “I’d never push…”

“No, I just…I…”

She touched his shirtfront. “May I take this off?”

Gwynn nodded mutely, and Matilda sat up and pushed the shirt over his head, her hands running up his chest as he shivered, desire igniting again.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said, her own voice taking that husky note of Olivia’s. “Can I just…?” She bit her lip and ran her fingertips over his chest, and when he nodded, she said, “Would you lie back? So I can…”

Her cheeks flushed, and she didn’t finish, but Gwynn lay on his back and she straddled him, her fingers running up his stomach, touching and exploring as she leaned down to kiss him, her hair tickling.

That was when Gabriel woke up. Or, more accurately, when he decided it was time to wake up, pushing himself out of the memory until he could feel the cool sheets of Olivia’s bed and smell her shampoo on the pillow and hear the soft exhale of her breathing…