Double Dealing (22 page)

“Oh, Gabriel,
Gabriel
!”

“Did you really think I’d go quietly to my own room tonight,
witch?” he growled, trapping her writhing legs with his heavy thigh. He nibbled
hungrily along the line of her throat, one hand moving down her body to the
point where her hiked-up nightgown revealed the curve of her hip. His incredibly
sensitive hand clenched into her flesh and then moved aggressively to the
shadowy tangle of hair between her legs. “My God, woman! How can you pretend
not to want me when you’re already warm and wet and waiting?”

Samantha shivered uncontrollably as he stroked his fingers
into her heat. She was burning for him. How could she deny it? Convulsively she
used her free hands to clutch at the hard, bronzed shoulders above her, and her
lower body arched against his hand.

As soon as he felt her response, he withdrew his probing
fingers, leaving the damp, satin flower between her legs unsatisfied and aching
with desire. She moaned and sank her teeth lightly into his shoulder. “Touch me
again, Gabriel. Please touch me like that again.”

“How do you want me to touch you, sweetheart?” he taunted
coaxingly as he removed the tousled nightgown. He bent to catch hold of one
budding nipple with his mouth, circling the dark aureole with the tip of his tongue.
Samantha felt the fire flaring in the pit of her stomach and gasped aloud. “Take
my hand and show me how you want me to touch you,” he repeated more urgently,

“Gabriel!” His name was a small cry of protest against the
boldness he asked of her and a plea for him to end the torment.

“Show me,” he invited once more, his voice as heavy with
passion as the rest of him. He spread his hand across her stomach as his tongue
continued to tantalize her nipples. “I only want to please you, sweetheart.”

“You only want to tease me,” she corrected a little savagely.
“Gabriel, finish what you started. I ache so…!”

“I always finish what I start.” He let the ball of his thumb
travel through the tangled thatch of hair until it hovered just above the
throbbing point of her desire. lust show me what you want.”

Samantha thought she would go crazy with wanting. Desperately
she arched her hips again, exultant when the action briefly brought his thumb
to exactly the right place. “Oh, yes, yes!”

But he withdrew his hand almost at once, seeming to take a
blatant satisfaction in her pleading need. Through the haze of her mounting
desire it dawned on Samantha exactly what was happening. Gabriel Sinclair was
prepared to go on teasing her all night. He was going to make her pay for the
attempt to deny her own attraction to him.

“You’re punishing me!” she accused, wrapping her arms
tightly around his neck and drawing his head close so that she could nip
somewhat viciously at his ear. “You’re not a very kind man.”

He groaned as she savaged his ear, a husky sound thick with
masculine arousal. When her nails raked his back, he sucked in his breath,
lifting his head just far enough so that she could see the warning glitter in
his heavy-lidded eyes. “Being kind wouldn’t do me much good around you, witch.
But then, kindness is not what I need from you either.”

“What?” she hissed, her body’s reactions slipping out of her
control as she responded to the dark intent in his eyes.

“I need to hear you beg me to take you. I need to have you
take my hand and guide it exactly where you want to be touched. I need to know
that you know how badly you want me!” He punctuated each command with a light,
stinging kiss on the soft
undercurve
of her breasts.

And he wants to know I won’t be able to deny him again the
way I tried to do this afternoon, Samantha thought wildly. But she was beyond
worrying about the balance of power in this dangerous relationship. The future
was the last thing she could think of now. There was only this burning need,
this craving for the fulfillment he offered.

“Damn you, Gabriel. Someday I’m going to–”

“But not tonight,” he told her evenly.

“No, not tonight… Touch me, angel. Here and here!” She felt
the heat in her face as she grabbed his hand with an awkward desperation and
led him to where she needed the feel of him. In the process she was made forcibly
aware of the damp, flowing warmth between her legs, and the flush in her face
grew hotter. He had a way of forcing her to acknowledge her own earthy
sexuality. It was both exciting and shocking. It was also a new experience. Her
sensual encounters three years ago had all been conducted on a more sophisticated,
more deliberately romantic plane. Drew Buchanan, bastard that he was, also made
it a point to play the charming gentleman in bed. Samantha had never realized
just how elemental the act of sex could be.

Now the knowledge consumed her, stripping away any pretense
or hope she might have had for keeping the encounter with Gabriel Sinclair on a
light, not-to-be-taken- too-seriously basis. She gave herself to him once again
in an act that she knew later would have to be labeled as surrender. At the
moment it simply didn’t matter. The driving urge to satisfy and be satisfied overrode
all caution. And there was no hope of disguising that urge.

“Ah, Samantha,” Gabriel rasped against her flesh as he
stroked and tantalized the softness of her. I think I would kill to keep you in
my arms like this!”

She heard the incredulity in his words and realized vaguely
that he was as stunned by the level of their mutual passion as she was. Then
she could think no more. He was sliding down her body, his warm tongue searching
out the places his fingers had been thrilling.

“Oh! Oh, my God,
Gabriel
!”

Her thighs parted wantonly for him as he pushed them farther
apart with his large hands. For excruciatingly exciting moments he drove her
again and again to the brink of satisfaction, only to cease the delicious torment
at the last possible instant.

At last when she thought she could bear no more, he came to
her, his heavy weight gliding up along her body like an irresistible ocean
wave. His manhood forged a path through the petals of her flowering softness,
and the answering cry in Samantha’s throat was silenced as Gabriel drank the
sound of it from her lips.

She was already so close to the edge that the slow, driving
rhythm Gabriel established sent Samantha over almost immediately. She arched
almost violently in his arms, felt the sting of his nails on her buttocks, and then
gave herself up completely to the mindless climax of passion.

Somewhere above her she heard her name muttered in a thick,
rasping voice. Heard, too, the dark, exciting words of urgent desire, and then
Gabriel was following her into the temporary, velvet oblivion. His release was total
and physically overwhelming. Samantha felt crushed into the bedclothes as he collapsed
completely along the length of her.

It was a long while before Gabriel’s heavy weight was shifted.
Even as he rolled onto his side, he kept his hold on Samantha, his hand resting
with warm possession on her breast. When she opened her lashes slowly to meet
his eyes, she found him watching her. There was an instant of stark silence,
and then Samantha tried desperately to rally the scattered forces of
self-defense. If he gloated, even for a moment, she would strangle him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he begged, amusement lighting
his eyes along with pervasive, leonine satisfaction.

“Like what?”

“As if you’re trying to decide whether or not to go for my
throat.” He reached out to draw a lazy finger across the base of her own
throat.

“You’re very perceptive,” she dared.

“Do you really want to tear me apart because of what just
happened?” he challenged whimsically.

“Not because of what happened but because of what I expect
you’ll read into the whole thing!” she retorted, goaded. He knew, she thought
anxiously. He knew and understood completely the extent of his power over her.
So dangerous.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Samantha.” The amusement faded from
his eyes as he smoothed back a tendril of her hair. “I’m on your side,
remember? We’re partners.”

“Uh huh, Just don’t get the idea that you’re the senior
partner merely because of … of….” She broke off, unwilling to put her own
surrender into words.

“Because I’ve been on top when we make love?” he drawled,
taking great pleasure in being able to meet her anger with a humorous sally. “You
can get on top next time—I think I’d rather like that.”

“Damn it, that’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Honey, any relationship between us had to include more than
just the business angle. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that
much. I wanted you from the start. And once I found out you felt the same about
me, I could no more have ignored the information than fly.”

“You’re supposed to be good at flying, remember? All angels
fly,” she grumbled.

He grinned, and there in the depths of her huge fourposter
bed the expression was unbelievably endearing and dangerous. “Then let me put
it this way: I don’t intend to ignore the information. Even if I could.”

“You think you can use it, don’t you? To control me.”

“A good businessman uses whatever it takes to keep a handle
on a volatile deal. You’re one very volatile woman, Samantha Maitland.”

Suddenly a thread of hope wove itself into her head. Her
golden brown eyes
slitted
consideringly
.
“Are you afraid of me, Gabriel Sinclair? Is that why you’re so anxious to prove
your dominance in bed?”

“Did I prove it?” he retorted interestedly.

“Go to hell,” she muttered.

“I can’t. Not hell.” He settled onto his back, drawing her
close to the perspiration-damp length of his hard body.

“I seem to recall one angel who got kicked out of heaven,”
she mused sleepily. Lord, she was exhausted. Too tired to go on fighting
Gabriel. She’d settle this with him in the morning, she promised herself. In
the morning.

No, in the morning she had to help Eric. Poor Eric. Had he
awakened yet and gone back to work at the computer? She really should go
downstairs and give him a hand. But she was so sleepy…

“Gabriel?”

“
Mmmmm
?” He sounded just as
sleepy. Satiated and content.

“You said you had questions?”

“I said they could wait. Go to sleep, honey. We’ll sort it
all out tomorrow.”

“I’m not going to answer any questions that don’t relate to
the Buchanan deal,” she vowed softly. She knew instinctively he wanted to know
about Eric’s situation and what was going on downstairs in the back parlor. But
her loyalty in this instance was clear-cut. Eric had it all. He was her half
brother.

“You’ll answer them,” Gabriel told her very gently. “And
then I’ll get you out of whatever idiotic scheme Eric’s dragged you into.”

“You don’t understand!”

“I understand more than you think. Go to sleep, Samantha.”
He cradled her closer so that her face was pressed against his chest,
effectively silencing her. Samantha gave up the small battle and succumbed to sleep.

Gabriel dozed for a time, his body relaxing completely in
the aftermath of passion, but as the immediate physical lethargy faded, it was
not replaced by sleep. Instead, forty minutes after Samantha had fallen asleep
beside him, he found himself still awake. How much control did he have over the
woman who lay curled in his arms? How much control did any man have over a
woman? Would he really have enough to keep Samantha from being used by Eric? Or
enough to stay in charge of the scheme she had developed for dealing with Buchanan?

She was so damn independent. So determined to follow her
wild and reckless plans wherever they might lead. And she had no patience with
the steady, cautious, rather dull way he went about things.

But she responded to him in bed. In bed she was his. Totally.

Clinging to that small reassurance, Gabriel allowed his mind
to drift, seeking the solace of sleep. He would be busy enough in the morning
when he took on brother and sister.

The splintering, thudding crash downstairs half an hour
later brought Samantha bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding, her body
shivering with instinctive, startled fear. Blindly she put out her hand,
seeking the comfort of Gabriel’s solid strength even as she tried to orient
herself in the darkness.

“Gabriel! What on earth… ?”

But he was already sliding out of bed, heading for the door.
“Stay where you are!” he ordered, his voice a bare whisper as he cracked the
door an inch.

Eric’s startled shout echoed up the staircase just as Gabriel
got the door open. There was another sickening thud and then the sound of
savage male voices.

“You’re late, punk. Real late. You think Mr. Kirby plays
games with suckers like you?”

Another crashing blow, and this time Samantha had pulled
herself together enough to realize in horror what was going on.

“Eric!” She gasped, leaping from the bed and running naked
to the door even as Gabriel shut it firmly and swung around to catch her. “Let
me go! They’re after Eric!”

“S-s-shut-up!” Gabriel snarled, clamping his hand across her
open mouth. He held her in a grip of iron as she struggled desperately to free
herself. She had to get to Eric. But fighting Gabriel’s implacable grip was fruitless,
and when she realized he wasn’t about to free her, she collapsed limply against
him. Almost at once the palm across her mouth was lifted. His eyes blazed down
at her, narrowed and infinitely dangerous.

“Who’s down there? Who’s after Eric?”

“I can’t explain it all now! Take my word for it, they’re
going to hurt him. We’ve got to help him!”

Even as her eyes pleaded with him for understanding and aid
for her brother, one of the invader’s voices sounded from the living room. “I’ll
get the woman. Don’t want her doing anything dumb like calling the cops.” The
next instant heavy, pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs.