Sebastian's Lady Spy (8 page)

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Sebastian said.

“Probably not, but kiss me anyway.”

“No.”

“What happened to you, Sebastian? You weren't like this in Venice.”

“Venice was another time, another place.”

“Another person?”

“Yes.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Don't go there, Gabrielle.”

“Why?”

“Because you've been drinking.”

“You make me sound like a drunkard. My pain is dulled, but the rest of my senses aren't, and my mind is perfectly fine. Why were you a different person then?”

“Because I was. That wasn't the real me.”

“I think you keep the real you locked up tightly.”

“So now you read minds?”

“I don't need to read minds to know that.”

“You've been shot, and you're not thinking clearly.”

Her brows rose. “So now it's because I've been shot and not the alcohol that isn't making me think clearly?”

“You are turning my words around.”

“You're not making sense, and you're trying to change the subject, but that's all right. I understand.”

He frowned, taken off guard by her choice of conversational topic and the fact that her mind was fully functioning on the amount of alcohol she had consumed. “What is there to understand?”

“Why didn't you want to work with me?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Now who's changing the subject?”

“You're trapped here by your need to take care of people. You're too gallant to leave me to my pain and misery. I'm willing to take advantage of that, because normally you run away from me.”

“I don't run away from you,” he said in disgust. “I'm a busy man. I have things to do.” His need to take care of people? What the hell was she talking about?

“Claire was right,” she murmured.

“What the hell has Claire to do with any of this?” He was going to throttle his sister the next time he saw her. She was a bothersome, meddlesome brat sometimes.

“She said you took others' problems on your shoulders.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Claire would know. She's been a problem since she started toddling.” Although he spoke the truth, his words were said with affection. He loved his sister and regretted many things that had happened to her. There had been times when he resented that he'd been thrust in the role of parent so young, but he wouldn't have had it any other way. If there were one thing he regretted about their younger years, other than not being able to keep their parents alive, it was that he hadn't done enough for Claire. He'd thought marrying her off would force her to grow up. He'd had no idea until recently how horrific her first marriage had been, and he would forever carry the guilt.

“Take me up to my bedchamber, Sebastian.”

“Of course.” He stood and lifted her from the settee, mindful of her injured arm.

“I can walk.”

“Humor me.”

“There it is.”

“There what is?” He paused while she turned the knob on the door.

“Your gallant behavior. A knight in shining armor.”

“I'm no knight in shining armor.”

“Mmm.”

The entryway was quiet. Apparently, having done his duty in sewing her up, Riggs had gone to bed. What a strange household Gabrielle ran.

“I sent the servants to bed for the night. No use staying up for me.”

“Your servants are interesting.”

She laughed softly, causing her breasts to brush against his chest and making his cock stand at attention. He was so hard so fast, he was nearly dizzy with it.

“My servants are cobbled together and hired for more than their domestic capabilities.”

“Let me guess: Riggs was hired for his ability to stitch you up.” He paused at the top of the steps and waited for Gabrielle to point in the right direction.

“Partly. He came from the streets, just as I did. He's a former pugilist, pickpocket, and thief.” She pointed to a closed door, and Sebastian once again waited for her to turn the knob.

He stepped into her bedchamber. Candles were lit and nearly half burnt down, so her maid must have also gone to bed for the night, which had him wondering just who was going to get Gabrielle out of her gown. His aching erection twitched; he had a very good idea who that person might be.

He gently laid her on the bed. She sat up to swing her legs over the side and grimaced, pulling her arm close. One sleeve was gone, that side of her dress stained with blood. The white bandage stood out starkly against her golden skin, and Sebastian was angered anew at what Wilcott had done to her. Despite that, she was beautiful. Her hair had fallen from its pins long ago and hung in a black sheath down her back, curling ever so slightly at the ends. Her eyes were large and luminous, and some color had returned to her lips and cheeks.

“Can you please unbutton my gown?”

Sebastian hesitated. He didn't want to touch her because he knew what would happen. One touch and he would be lost. He was hanging on to his sanity by a thin thread that was quickly fraying. He clenched his fingers into tight fists, knowing that there was no turning back.

He knelt upon the bed and she turned to present her back to him. He took that waterfall of silky raven hair and gathered it in his hand to pull it over her shoulder and reveal her back. His hands shook as he slid the buttons through the buttonholes, revealing more and more of her slim back and the ridge of her spine. He watched his hand as if it were not a part of him. It brushed her neck, his fingers lightly grazing the delicate skin. Gabrielle stilled and her breath caught.

The very air seemed to have been sucked from the room. This was why he didn't want to work with Gabrielle. This was why he had avoided her the past seven months and tried to keep his distance over the past several days. Because he couldn't keep his hands off her. Because when he was around her, he lost all sense, all reason.

And yet he couldn't find it in him to care right now, because more than anything, he wanted to feel the skin on her neck, her back, everywhere. He ached for her and admitted to himself that he'd been aching for her for seven months. The thought that he would finally relieve that ache was overwhelming.

He pushed the gown off her shoulders. Her skin glowed in the firelight as if illuminated from the inside.

Sebastian leaned forward and placed a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. Gabrielle looked over her shoulder at him, a slight smile turning up her lips. She looked like a painting, her gown half off, her hair unbound and loose, the candlelight reflecting off all that exposed skin. Their gazes locked, and the teasing glint in hers turned into something sensuous that held promises of things he had tried to forget over the past months but had been unable to.

He trailed his finger down her back, his fingers tracing each bump of her spine. She shivered. He looked away to press another kiss to the base of her neck and followed his fingers with his lips.

In the morning he would regret this, just as he had the last time, but morning was far away, and Gabrielle was right here, and his cock hurt so damn bad.

“Sei bella,”
he whispered in her native language.
You are beautiful.

She lay back with a smile so that he was looking upside down at her.

“Baciami,”
she said.
Kiss me.

He lowered his head but paused just before their lips touched. She smiled up at him. “You are teasing me.”

“I am savoring you.”

Her smile faltered and she blinked. “You undo me, Sebastian Addison.”

“As you undo me.” Therein lay the problem of Gabrielle Marciano. She undid him. Made him feel out of control when he'd always been the one in control. “Ah, Gabby. What am I to do with you?”

She touched his cheek, her deep eyes serious. “You are going to make love to me, and you will not regret it in the morning.”

She knew him too well. He knew that wasn't going to stop him. He would make love to her, but he couldn't promise he would not regret it. Why she made him feel this way, he didn't know. He'd bedded many women in his past, but none had made him feel as out of control.

She arched a brow. “Contemplating the world's problems?”

“Right now you are my world, and you are a problem.”

“No problems tonight, Sebastian. Just us. Nothing else. No traitors. No Office of Intelligence. Nothing but us.”

Seven months ago he'd thought it would be that simple, until she invaded his mind and he found himself thinking of her when he should have been thinking of other things. To him, that was unacceptable.

Her fingers trailed down his jaw to touch his lips. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” Because he was powerless not to. She enthralled him. Bewitched him. And while it scared the hell out of him, his will was nothing compared to her siren call.

“Baciami,”
she breathed.

Her arm wound around his neck, pulling him closer as she arched her back into their kiss. When they broke apart, her eyes glowed and her lips were wet and rosy. “I've missed you,” she whispered.

“How's your arm?” he asked, deliberately ignoring her last statement because he couldn't go there. Not yet. Possibly not ever.

“It hurts like the devil, but I will live.”

“We'll try not to jostle it overmuch.”

“Somehow I don't think I will care.”

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“I'm indestructible. Come here.” With surprising strength, she pulled him down with her good arm until he turned himself around and was lying on top of her. He groaned and forced his body to remain still so he wouldn't grind his erection into her and end it all before it even began. He'd dreamed of this for so long. Too many times he'd woken from erotic dreams of her pressed against him. Too many times he'd been so disappointed to awaken and find his hips pumping into nothing but a mirage.

She pulled him down with more force than he would have given her credit for, and kissed him as if she were giving him her last breath. He fell willingly into her and into the kiss, and damn if it didn't feel right. Complete. She made him feel complete, and he knew that what he'd been missing the past seven months was a part of him that she had kept with her after he walked away. She was a thief, stealing pieces of his soul without his even knowing it until now.

Conscious of her injury, he carefully peeled off her gown, revealing a layer of petticoat made of fine Italian lace and French silk. Once that was discarded, he was left with the chemise and then finally, finally, nothing but golden skin. He started at her collarbone and kissed his way down her body. Her nipples were erect, the nubs hard with wanting. He placed a kiss on each, then came back to them, laving them with his tongue until she was squirming beneath him. With each kiss, each swipe of his tongue, he wanted more and more of her. He wanted pieces of her to take with him, as she had taken pieces of him.

She arched beneath him and sighed. It was a sigh of capitulation, of contentment, of coming home. He remembered that sigh in the deep of night when he was fast asleep and the memories sneaked around his barriers. That sigh would haunt him for the rest of his life, he knew.

He rose off the bed and made short work of his clothes, coming back to her in absolutely nothing but the skin he was born in. She smiled up at him, her dark eyes sparkling, her lips red and waiting.

She moved her leg, raising her knee until it brushed against his erection. It was embarrassing just how much he wanted her. More than his next breath, more than he wanted to wake up the next morning, more than life itself.

“Come to me,
amore mio,
” she whispered into his ear.

He surged into her, her words propelling him forward and setting a frantic temp.

Amore mio.

Amore mio.

She opened up for him, took him willingly, and he easily slid into her warm wetness. Nestled inside of her, he paused and closed his eyes, very close to weeping at the exquisite sensation.

Amore mio.

Amore mio.

He slid out, paused, and slowly, so slowly, pushed back in. Her muscles tightened around him, so smooth and wet. So. Damn. Wet.

Amore mio.

My love.

He groaned, lost. Completely lost in the sensations. The sounds. The scent. The love.

My love.

My love.

He pulled out again and glided right back in. He wanted it to never end, to keep going forever, but all too soon he was racing toward the end. It came so suddenly that he was unprepared and wanted to cry out, “No!”

Gabrielle clutched his shoulders. Her hips surged upward, grinding into him. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He came so hard that spots danced before his eyes.

Gabrielle cried out, clutching him tightly, those inner muscles milking him. And he came and came and came until he was completely empty.

Amore mio.

My love.

Sebastian lay on his side, his head supported by his hand, and watched Gabrielle. She was facing him, her eyes closed, her face flushed, her hair a delightful, tangled mess spread across the pillow. All he wanted to do was drink her in with his eyes. She was everything he remembered. So damn beautiful it made his heart hurt.

He'd done it, fallen into the abyss of Gabrielle. He'd escaped once, and he would escape again, but not yet. Not now. In the future, definitely, but not now.

She opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

“What did you mean when you said Riggs came from the streets just as you had?”

Her smile faltered. “This is what you want to talk about now?”

“Yes.” No. Yes. Hell and damnation, but he couldn't think straight while he was with her, and that was exactly why he had left her in Venice. She jumbled his mind and ignited his body until he didn't know who he was anymore or what he wanted. He should not have asked about her past first, but he wanted to know, and he found he could not talk about making love to her.