I remembered,’ he said, brushing the hair out of her eyes as he continued to thrust inside her.
She did not want to remember, did not want to be reminded of everything that happened between them up to this moment. ‘Don’t. Stop.’
His movements became more urgent.
She dug her nails into his back.
‘Hurry,’ he ground out.
He was waiting for her and that lovely gesture set her over the edge again. As he let out a loud groan, he came and soon afterwards collapsed on top of her.
Gabriel’s heavy weight was nearly crushing her. As if somehow he knew he rolled, taking her with him so her head rested against his chest. The rapid staccato of his heartbeat matched her own.
She could not move. Moreover, she did not want to.
‘Livy, you still turn me inside out.’
Oh, no, not that! Why did he have to ruin it and call her that?
She opened her eyes. He was smiling down at her—smiling that smile that made the corner of his eyes crinkle and lit up her world.
That smile that he had given only to her, all those years ago.
She stumbled out of bed and reached for her nightrail. Throwing it over her head, she caught his bewildered expression. She needed to get him out of this room as fast as possible. If she did not, she did not know if her heart could stand it. She pressed her hand against her lips to prevent herself from saying anything foolish.
‘Livy, what is the matter?’
Why did he have to keep calling her that? It was what he had called her when he was being all sweet years ago.
‘You need to go.’
He closed his eyes and draped his arm over his face, showing her the curve of his biceps. ‘I am tired, Olivia, and it is late. I just want to sleep.’
‘Here?’ she squeaked.
Picking up his head, he peered at her through one eye. ‘Yes, here, I have done it before. Now come back to bed.’ He closed his eye and settled into the blankets.
Now what was she to do? He was much too big to drag out of bed. She picked up his banyan and held it out to him. ‘We never agreed you would sleep here.’
He lifted his head again and eyed her. His hair was tousled and there was a slight shadow on his face from his evening whiskers, giving him a roguish quality. ‘I was not aware everything we do would be up for negotiation.’ He rolled to his side, propping his head in his hand and exposing his hard muscular chest. ‘We just had a brilliant time together, and to be truthful my legs are not quite steady at the moment. Let us not ruin tonight by arguing. Please, come back to bed.’
Olivia felt herself weakening, but if he slept here she feared it would be harder to keep him out of her heart. Especially when he was all sweet and rumpled. He eyed her expectantly.
Pushing back her shoulders, she took a deep breath. She could do this. She could sleep with him without it affecting her in the least. Many women slept with their husbands without even liking them. It was just sex, two bodies responding to one another. That was all it was. It had nothing to do with feelings of any kind.
She folded his banyan carefully and placed it at the foot of her bed. Reluctantly, she slid under the covers. If she laid on her back with distance between them, she would be fine.
Gabriel slid beside her and pulled her close. This would never work. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned on her side to get away from him, but his arm tightened as he spooned his body against her.
‘Go to sleep, Livy,’ he mumbled into her hair.
The ice around her heart melted a little bit more. Oh, good heavens! There had to be a way to resist him.
‘Mama, Mama, you won’t believe—’
There was a little voice in his dream. What was a little voice doing in his dream about Olivia? Gabriel shifted his weight and breathed in her honeysuckle scent.
‘Papa, is that you? What are you doing in Mama’s bed?’
The warm softness below him began to shift and then poke him. Gabriel tightened his arm around it to get it to stop.
‘Wake up,’ Olivia whispered sharply.
Why was she telling him to wake up? She should be telling him that she wanted to feel him deep inside her. Gabriel groaned, rubbed his whiskers against the soft linen draped over her enticing breast and cracked one eye open to the faint morning light.
And was met with his son’s curious expression an inch from his nose.
Startled, Gabriel jerked away from Olivia.
‘Hello, Papa. Good morning, Mama,’ said Nicholas from where he was standing beside the bed, playing with Olivia’s sleeve.
She turned and kissed their son. In an attempt to wake up his muddled brain, Gabriel rubbed the back of his head and stretched.
‘Your hair looks silly, Papa, and why aren’t you wearing a shirt?’
Olivia arched her brow at Gabriel, leaving the explanation to him.
‘It was very warm last night,’ he replied, rubbing his eyes.
‘No, it wasn’t. There was a fire in my room all night.’ Nicholas crawled up on the bed and sat cross-legged next to Olivia. His doe-like eyes widened with excitement. ‘Did you hear the rain? There was a mighty storm. Why are you here? Did the thunder scare you?’
She gave a small snort and glanced at Gabriel. At least she believed he was manly enough to withstand a thunderstorm without retreating to the inside of his wardrobe.
‘Your papa came to enquire after me and was too tired to return to his rooms so I let him fall asleep here.’
‘That was nice of you, Mama. What’s that?’ Nicholas asked, poking Gabriel below his ribcage.
With bleary eyes Gabriel looked down to the puckered scar from his old gunshot wound, his constant reminder of his costly mistake. ‘It’s an old fencing injury.’ One more lie in that chain of many he was forced to tell.
‘Uncle Andrew says chits like men with scars.’
‘You have spent entirely too much time with your Uncle Andrew,’ he mumbled.
Olivia traced the outline of his round scar with her delicate finger and caught his eye with a curious expression.
‘Do you like Papa’s scar, Mama?’
She turned to Nicholas. ‘Would you like to see my scar?’
‘You have a scar?’ Nicholas asked
