Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,71
seemed to have grown roots into the floor. Moving her feet the few steps toward Gabriel was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. He waited, patient and expectant. His lids had lowered over his eyes, giving him the look of a sleepy predator. His chest, she was pleased to note, was rising and falling faster—although not as fast as hers.
When she stepped within reach, he grazed her jaw with the back of his hand, the gentle touch making her jump.
“Shhhh,” he whispered as he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers with a lingering sensuality.
Drusilla made a noise unlike any that had ever come out of her mouth.
He chuckled softly. “What was that?”
“Uhmnph.”
His smile turned to a grin. “That is what I thought you said.” He released her hand and slid both of his beneath her jaws, his thumbs caressing her cheeks and brushing over her lips.
He looked at her through green slits. “I know it is said that there is some pain the first time, but I will see that you experience great pleasure—you trust me, don’t you?” He continued his distracting exploration of her face, her chest rising and falling faster with each gentle stroke of his thumb over her lower lip.
She nodded. She’d never stood so close to him. She’d always known he was broad chested, but he seemed to surround her with his body. And his eyes. Lord, just looking at them made her feel faint. A thousand shades of green shot through with gold, his eyelashes like soot—all except the very tips, which were a surprising reddish gold. He took the glass she still clutched in her hand and set it down before turning back to her.
“I wish to see your hair down.”
A shock went through her body as if he’d yelled, and his lips, full and shapely, flexed into a gentle smile.
“You are so nervous. Is it me?” His gaze flickered over her, and her heart clenched. Was she behaving like a lovelorn girl? Was that what he thought he saw?
“No, it is not you.”
“You’re afraid of what will happen tonight?”
“Not . . . afraid, but perhaps—” Perhaps what? She didn’t even know herself what she felt—how could she describe it? “A little anxious. But I do not wish to stop.” The words came out in a garbled rush. “I understand my duty.” She expelled a careful breath. “I know what a wife owes her husband.”
His eyebrows jumped up, and his white, even teeth flashed briefly. “Does your duty include letting down your hair?”
The playful question left her speechless, so she nodded.
He removed her cap, his full lips pulling down at the corners as he stared at it and then tossed it to the floor. “I do not care for that.” His dark eyes met hers. “My sisters and mother do not wear such things. Why do you?”
Drusilla had no idea why. She’d been raised by her aunt and governess, both of whom had made it plain that a virtuous woman covered her hair. But she could hardly say that as it would imply his mother and sisters were not virtuous and—
“You are giving such serious thought to the matter.” His mouth twitched, and that was when Drusilla noticed the small freckle just on the curve of his upper lip. She had a mad urge to reach out and touch it, to—God save her—taste it.
“You have beautiful hair and I would like it to be unbound when I come to you.”
His words rocked her, sending shock tremors through her body. The realization that they would do this again and again made her stomach quiver and the area below tighten, the sensation that echoed outward so intensely pleasurable she felt ready to slide to the floor in a boneless heap.
She began to lift her hands, but he shook his head.
“I will do it.” He turned her around, her back to his front, and she felt his hand moving on the heavy braid that hung down her back. “Hold out your hand.”
Her hand shot out before her brain had approved the gesture. “Do you never say please?”
He gave a soft laugh and placed the ribbon that had held her braid in her hand before lightly grasping her shoulders and pulling her back, hot breath fanning her neck. “I will say please for you, my wife.” He kissed her beneath her ear, and Drusilla swayed, grateful his hands and body were propping her up. She’d had only one