Page 22 of His Son's Wife
He stepped into the warm glow of the lamp.
“You’re going to hold Pandora between us. Just in case,” he said.
He was actually agreeing.
I was too stunned to speak so I nodded.
He couldn’t say no, could he? The doctor said yes. The doctor saidyes. In his face. Five weeks of wellbeing and bedtimes and Belgian chocolate and it had all come down to this magnificent moment.
“You can have your bubble bath afterwards.”
I’d completely forgotten about that.
But okay.
He raised his T-shirt.
I grabbed Pandora’s head.
His belly button came into view first. A little hairy—but in a good way, because the line of dark hair travelled from there straight down into the waistband of his sweatpants. The sweatpants stayed on. I dragged my eyes upward to his chest.
So much dark hair.
Gabriel shaved it all off.
What a waste.
Au naturel was very, very good.
He moved closer.
Reached the bed.
Poor Pandora’s head was about to be separated from her body.
He climbed onto the bed and towered over me, placing both hands on my pillows, caging me beneath him. The lamp threw warm gold across his shoulders and jaw and the dark wave of his hair and I felt my breath leave completely.
“So you want Daddy inside you?” he murmured close to my ear.
His stubble dragged across my cheek. My neck. Hot lips followed the same path, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use it.
He took my wrist and moved Pandora gently to my ribs.
That’s when it dawned on me why he’d wanted her there at all. One last barrier. One final opportunity to change my mind.
That last niggling doubt vanished completely.
“Yes,” I said. My voice steady and strong.
“Do you think you can handle me?” he whispered, before his tongue curled around my earlobe. Teeth held it. Lips followed.
The heat from his crotch-mound settled between my legs like a promise.
“I can handle it anywhere you need me to,” I groaned.
He released my ear.
“Good girl.”
