To Have and to Hold (3 page)

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A few short hours later, her hand squeezed the delicate stems of her bouquet with crushing force. Having Gabe by her side should have comforted her but it only increased her gut-churning tension.

He was a man who'd never bend, never gentle to tenderness. Certainly not for his convenient bride. Instead, as his kisses had shown, he'd demand. And he'd demand far more than she'd ever expected to have to give.

“Do you, Jessica Bailey Randall, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?”

And even then, something inside of her was waiting for Damon's familiar voice to call the wedding to a halt. If he had, she might have given up everything—her principles, her promises, her loyalties. But Damon didn't come, as he hadn't come yesterday, though everyone in Kowhai had to know she was back.

She set her jaw. “I do.” Her eyes were locked with Gabe's as she spoke and she was startled by the open hunger that stirred in their depths, though she shouldn't have been. Gabriel Dumont was a man who held onto what he owned. Of course he'd be possessive with his bride, no matter that she'd been chosen for reasons other than passion.

As far as Gabe was concerned, she was now
his
.

She felt herself jerk at a loud cheer and realized she'd missed the rest of the ceremony.

“Jess?”

Blinking away her confusion, she looked up. “What?”

There was something very male in his eyes as he brushed aside a curl that had escaped her upswept hairdo. “They want a kiss. And so do I.”

“Oh.” She could feel a blush creeping over her cheeks as she stood on tiptoe, one hand braced against his shoulder.

When Gabe slid his palm across her bare nape, the roughness of his skin was an erotic caress she wasn't ready for. She tried to stifle her gasp, but he'd heard. Smiling with masculine approval, he pressed her close using his other hand on her lower back. And then he kissed her.

Possession. Absolute, undeniable possession.

That was what it felt like, a branding even more dangerous than the claim of his kiss the night before. Yet once again, she couldn't keep her body from molding to his, her arms from going around his waist, reason and sense obliterated under an avalanche of piercing sensation.

An unexpected wolf-whistle splintered the moment, jolting her into pulling away. But she only got loose because Gabe decided to set her free. In the second before he turned to face the others, she saw something both very satisfied and very impatient in his eyes.

Gabriel was ready to seal their deal.

In the most physical way.

F
our hours, endless dances with the station hands and two flutes of champagne later, Jess was having trouble deciding what to wear. Stripping down to the corset-like lace teddy, which was all she'd been able to find to support her under the smooth lines of the dress, was out of the question. So was the slinky nightgown gifted to her by a beaming Mrs. C.

But if she wore her favorite old T-shirt, Gabe might think she was being deliberately provocative, defying both him and the explicitly stated rules of their agreement. She had no doubts that he was ruthless enough to call off the whole cold-blooded affair if she didn't hold up her end of the bargain.

Which left her standing in front of the wardrobe, considering her options for the hundredth time. As a result, she was in no way prepared to hear the connecting door between her room and the master bedroom open.

Her heartbeat a jackhammer against her ribs, she swiveled to face him. “I thought you were downstairs.”

Having already undone and rolled up the cuffs to bare sun-browned forearms, Gabe now undid the top two buttons of his white dress shirt. “I figured my business with Jim could wait.”

“Oh.” She lifted a hand to her hair then dropped it again, not sure what to do with herself—knowledge was one thing, experience quite another. “I'm not ready.”

His smile was slow, sensual and very pleased. “I'll take care of that.”

She blushed despite having coached herself to be calm and sensible about the whole thing. What she hadn't factored in was the sheer impact of Gabriel Dumont. And tonight, he was concentrating solely on her.

Her breath grew jagged and she found it difficult to focus—her vision had constricted until the only thing she could see was her new husband. Reaching her, he put his hands on her waist, that smile segueing into an expression that was darker, more sexual. Her body responded to the change with a melting warmth that shocked her into an instant of clarity.

She raised her own hands and put them against his chest with some vague idea of holding him off. She realized her mistake immediately—the flimsy barrier would do nothing to keep him at bay, not when her body was all too willing. And as the heat of him scorched her through the fine cotton of his shirt, she found herself craving more rather than less.

Leaving one hand on her waist, he began to pull out the pins in her hair with the other. “I like your curls, Jess.” Stark masculine approval.

“It's become a lot more auburn since I was young.” She didn't know why she'd made that inane comment. As if he cared that she'd been a real carrot-top until fate had taken pity on her. Even after having lost weight, she considered her hair her one glory…and Gabriel liked it. That shouldn't have mattered, but it did.

“Hmm.” He continued to unravel the piled mass, dropping the pins to the floor. “I don't want you to cut it.” She made a non-committal noise and he smiled, a gleam in his eye. “You wouldn't hack it off just to spite me, would you?”

The childish thought had, in fact, passed through her head a second before, but she wasn't going to admit that. Especially when she didn't understand it herself—it simply seemed to be wrong to
enjoy
any aspect of this marriage that had been meant to be the coldest of transactions. “Are the pins all out?”

He thrust both hands through the waves. “Looks like it.” Prosaic words but his fingers were playing along the back of her nape, teasing the already sensitive spot.

She wanted to sigh and beg for more.

What was she thinking?
Panic at her complete inability to remain strong against this man shot through her bloodstream, giving her courage a frantic boost. “Gabe, you don't have to go slow. Let's get this over with.” It was a willful attempt to provoke him. An angry Gabriel would be far easier to resist than this temptingly seductive male with his ability to ignite things in her that should have been dead to him.

But his only reaction was to shake his head. “Oh, no, Jess. You don't get to reduce this to nothing more than a quick, meaningless bang.”

Embarrassment flooded her. But he wasn't finished. “I'm going to pleasure you, my
darling
wife. It's my job as your husband.”

She was sure he was taunting her. “Stop playing games.”

Moving so swiftly that she had no chance to step away, he scooped her up in his arms. “I'm absolutely serious. I want my wife screaming for me.”

Her skin went taut at the utter resolve in those green eyes. She could find no words with which to respond as he carried her to the master bedroom and set her on her feet by the bed. The sexual charge between them was electric.

Caught in its surge, she didn't have the will to drop her arms from his neck as he wrapped his own around her back and began to slide down the zipper, slow and careful. Every nerve in her body was already stretched to the limit—the leisurely descent threatened to make them snap. Taking a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes in an effort to regain her balance.

His lips followed her into the darkness, sweeping her under. Gabriel kissed like the man he was—confident, possessive and fully in control. One of his hands rose to tangle in her hair, tugging back her head to facilitate his taking of her mouth, while the other slipped inside the now open zipper to lie flat on the naked skin of her upper back.

She moaned, captured by the undercurrent of hunger that lay every sweep of his tongue, every press of his lips.
Escape
was a word she no longer remembered and
addiction
was a very real possibility.

When he did set her free, it was only so he could kiss his way across her jaw and down her neck. She tipped her head, cooperating without conscious thought. Nothing she'd ever done had prepared her for this assault on her senses, this layering of pleasure upon pleasure.

Gabriel's hand was rough against her skin, the hand of a man who worked the land. But on her neck, his lips were almost velvet soft—a seductive contrast. She lost her breath as he closed his teeth over a pulse point, then released with exquisite deliberation, scraping those same strong teeth along the sensitive flesh.

“Mmm.”

Her senses melted under the sound of blatant male appreciation. And the surrender was so sudden and total that something slumbering inside of her jerked to full wakefulness. This wasn't right, wasn't how it should be.

She'd prepared herself for going to bed with Gabriel, had told herself she'd
bear
the experience, though it would hurt to sleep with a man she didn't love. Yet here she was, coming apart in his arms. It confused her, made her want to pull away. But the fact was that her last-ditch effort to regain control stood no chance of success, she was so completely out of her league.

Under her dress, Gabe curved one hand around her ribs to lightly brush the side of a lace-covered breast, destroying all thoughts of rebellion. Her sharp cry made him chuckle. It was a very sexual sound. Even she understood that tone, the tone of a man who knew he had a woman in the palm of his hands. Tonight he was the master and she very much the novice.

The thought sparked a new burst of defiance. She might not be able to stop herself from going under but she refused to give in completely. Thrusting her hands into his hair, she tugged and made him raise his head. “Why do I have to be the one who's undressed first?” Her voice was husky, her words uttered on a gasp, but at least she'd gotten them out.

“Here I am. Unbutton the shirt.” It was both an order and a dare. He didn't think she'd do it.

So she did.

Tanned male skin appeared bare inches from her lips—pure temptation that locked up her throat and shot arrows of need to her most private core. She'd made a bad miscalculation. However she had no intention of backing down. Mouth dry, she continued down his chest and stomach, pulling the shirt from his pants to finish the job.

When he kissed her again, her hands were still between their bodies and it was inevitable that she'd flatten them on his chest. The shock of skin to skin contact made her tremble. There was nothing soft about Gabriel. The man was built like a lean, beautiful machine and the womanly heart of her could only appreciate him.

When he slid the hand from her hair along her shoulders, she instinctively understood the silent request. Dropping her hands from his chest, she let him pull the dress down her arms. To her surprise, he stopped with the neckline just above her breasts and let go. Her hand shot up in a responsive movement, clutching the satin to her chest.

His eyes glittered with passion, unshielded in a way she'd never before seen. “Do it for me, Jess.”

There was nothing else she could do, not with the fury of passion between them. Her body had triumphed over her mind, taken over everything she'd ever known about her own needs and desires. Unable to hold the power of that gaze, she looked away…and released the dress. It slid off her body like cool water.

Silence.

She found the courage to look up.

Green eyes clashed with her own and time stopped.

“Beautiful.” He broke the connection to run those eyes down the corset-like teddy, to the point where the lace tops of her stockings met the bare skin of her upper thighs. Then he retraced his journey, leaving her scarcely able to breathe. And that was before he shrugged off his shirt.

She bit back a whimper but not soon enough.

“If you want to touch, do it.” His hands went to her waist and stroked down to close over the curves of her bottom with boldness that made it very, very clear he considered her his in the most basic sense.

Hands fisted against his chest, she fought the urge to lean closer to taste him. His skin was beautiful, healthy and golden brown, radiating power. A second later, he used that strength to pick her up and drop her lightly on the bed.

Then never taking his eyes off her, he sat down on the edge to remove his socks. The muscled temptation of his back laid waste to her final defenses. She was about to reach out to touch when he stood. His hands went to his belt.

Fingers grasping the sheets, she watched mesmerized as he unbuckled the belt and pulled it out of the loops. It fell to the carpeted floor with a dull metallic sound. But she could hardly hear anything, her attention fixated on his fingers as they undid the top button of his pants.

Then he pulled down the zipper.

Cheeks ablaze, she closed her eyes and felt—more than heard—his low chuckle as he got rid of the pants and climbed into bed beside her. Throwing one leg over her lower body, he put a hand on her stomach. “I'm not naked…yet.” It was a scandalous whisper in her ear.

Opening her eyes, she found his lips a thought away from hers, his eyes holding no amusement despite that chuckle. The hand on her stomach slid lower.

“Stay with me,” he ordered when she would have turned her head.

She stayed, admitting to herself that she was a full participant in this dance at the very instant that he moved to cup her intimately. Her body arched up and she found herself squeezing her thighs to hold him to her. Giving a hoarse groan, he kissed her hard, that big hand rubbing the excruciating need between her legs. A second later, he was gone. She cried out at the loss, the sound so desperate she shocked herself.

“I want you naked.” His fingers begin to unlace the ribbons holding together the teddy. His clenched jaw left no question as to the force of his arousal. “Where did you get this?”

“Hollywood Boulevard,” she managed to answer.

Kissing the curve of her neck, he pushed one hair-roughened thigh between hers. “Wear it for me again.” It was a definite command.

She might have protested his arrogance had he not chosen that moment to peel apart the sides of the teddy and cover a breast with his palm. Her mind splintering, she pushed into that callused male touch. But he released her far too soon. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from begging him to come back.

“I like the way you look at me, Jess. Now it's time for me to look at you.” Rising to his knees, he moved until he could tug the teddy off completely and throw it aside. Then he took inventory of her with his eyes—from the tips of her stocking-covered toes to the curves of her hips to the peaks of her breasts. Jess felt every look like a physical touch and when he pushed up her legs to bend them at the knee, she didn't have the will to protest, much less the ability.

He spread her knees to kneel between them, his body heat an exquisite caress. Running his hands under her thighs and bottom to her lower back, he pulled her up to straddle him.

“Oh!” She grabbed at his shoulders to steady herself, suddenly conscious of the rigid length of his arousal against her.

It was as if he'd seen the knowledge in her eyes. “Relax, darling. I haven't finished tasting you.”

She swallowed. In this position, she was completely at his mercy. But he didn't tease, instead gave her exactly what she wanted by dipping his head and taking her nipple into his mouth. The hard suction tugged low and deep inside of her, tempting her, taunting her.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, the flesh slick and hot under her skin. He was so unapologetically male that everything female in her reacted to him, softening, weakening…melting.