Modern Romance June 2019 Books 5-8. Andie Brock
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erased every thought she could conjure.
“My virginity.”
* * *
Gabriel stopped a scant millimeter from claiming that luscious, clever mouth. He balanced on the knife’s edge between rational thought and the sweetest, blindest escape he could recall glimpsing in his lifetime.
He made his hands slide down to her waist and swallowed.
“You’re a virgin?” he asked carefully.
Her tense stomach muscles quivered against the heels of his hands. Her pouted mouth was still parted with invitation. “Yes.”
“And you kissed me like that?”
She blinked and the sultry haze of arousal in her sea-green eyes grew tepid and unsure. “Am I not good at it?”
He was hard as high-carbon steel, his flesh nearly searing its way through the layers of cloth between them to get to the molten center of her. He swore he could smell her arousal like nectar, beckoning him to burrow deep. He would give anything to taste her, to feel her arch with pleasure against his mouth.
But he refused to believe what she was suggesting.
“Back up a step.”
She took him literally, drawing back so his hands fell to his sides. Her shirt stayed loose, her nipples sharp points against her unbecoming top.
He opened his mouth, closed it. Sought out a couple of brain cells and tried to kick them together, force them to spark cohesive words.
“I’m the first person to ever kiss you? That’s what you want me to believe?”
“The first man.” She folded her arms defensively. “There was a boy when I was thirteen. It was...” Her nose wrinkled. “Like pushing my mouth into a pile of mashed potatoes. But there were mostly women in Mae’s house so he was my only one.”
Gabriel folded. If they were playing poker, she won that hand with a wild-card joker that could be a bluff, but at this point, he could only swear and wave at the clothing on the floor.
“Change. Then go to the lounge. I need a minute to collect myself.” Maybe a cold shower. He locked himself in the bathroom the way werewolves chained themselves to a tree on a full moon, so they wouldn’t have terrible deeds on their consciences the next day.
He ran his hand down his face as if he could physically bank the heat that had risen in him as he’d contemplated starting their flight in the reclined position.
That had been even better than their first kiss. He hadn’t seen any reason to stop except to ensure their privacy, the fines for sitting on the tarmac worth every minute. Hell, they were married. If they both wanted it, what was to stop them?
But she was a virgin.
How?
And how hadn’t he realized it? He wasn’t a womanizer, but he’d slept with enough women he should be able to recognize a lack of experience in a kiss.
He’d been too carried away by her responsiveness both times to register how untutored she was, though. He liked to lead and she had let him. He’d thought it was a sign they were compatible. If he’d noticed any surprise in her, he’d put it down to his same delight at the way their chemistry ignited so quickly, feeding into each other’s arousal in a way that was exponential.
Potentially mind-blowing.
And how was her virginity such a turn-on? He was a normal man with normal fetishes like pretty underwear and high heels. Virginity had never reached the top twenty in his fantasy playlist, but the idea of being Luli’s first drew him taut as a piano string.
He skimmed his hand over his hair, tamping down the prickle in his scalp.
The more evidence he collected, the more he was coming to see Luli as every bizarre thing she claimed to be. But the only way to prove she was a virgin was to sleep with her.
And if she was a virgin, he shouldn’t touch her.
That paradox wasn’t going to torture him at all.
* * *
Luli fought her way out of the clothes she wore, half terrified Gabriel would walk out and see her naked. And reject her again.
Part of her knew he had saved her from being careless and impulsive, but she still felt rebuffed. Like she’d done something wrong. Not morally, although maybe he was judging her. She didn’t know. But more than that, she feared she had repelled him in some way, out of ignorance.
The drawstring pants hung low on her hips even after she tied them, but they only needed to be turned up twice at the cuff because she was only a little shorter than Gabriel. The shirt seams dropped off her shoulders and the sleeves also needed turning up, but the light knit was soft and comfortable and smelled of him which was disturbing and nice at the same time.
She went to the lounge, sat in one of the armchairs and buckled, then studied the panel in the armrest. Along with several reclining adjustments, there were a dozen massaging options and both heating and cooling settings. She could also control the television, the music, the lights and call the attendant. There were screens of safety instructions and a message from the pilot welcoming them aboard. It showed a countdown to takeoff.
Apparently, they would begin taxiing in seventy-eight seconds.
Gabriel appeared, hair damp as though he’d showered. He removed the shopping bag with twine handles from the other armchair, setting it at her feet before he sat.
“Something for you to play with while we travel.”
“Is this your chair? That’s why the panel has so many options. I’m sorry.” She reached to unbuckle.
“They’re exactly the same.” He waved her to stay put.
The attendant appeared with a glass on a silver tray that she offered to Gabriel.
“May I bring champagne? Lavender-infused lemonade? Perhaps a cappuccino?”
“Water is fine,” Luli said, pressing into her chair.
“Sparkling or Arctic glacier?”
Luli looked to Gabriel, expecting him to make it clear she didn’t deserve this level of catering.
“The Canadian spring water for now. No seafood for Luli.”
“Thank you, sir. We received that instruction and have arranged alternatives for Mrs. Dean. The pilot is ready to taxi to the runway if you are?”
“Thank you.” He didn’t correct her on Luli’s title.
The attendant disappeared and the view beyond the windows began to move.
Luli didn’t know how to bring up what had happened in his room.
Her downcast gaze landed on the bag, which she had to admit made her curious. It looked like it held black boxes marked with Gabriel’s golden dragon logo, all still sealed with cellophane along with something in periwinkle blue.
“Go ahead,” he coaxed, sipping as he watched her.
She drew out wireless, noise-canceling headphones, wireless earbuds and other accessories she had only ever seen, mostly online, never dreaming she would use them.
“A new laptop?” And a tablet.
“You’ll like it. More processing power. Better security. Consider it a thank-you for making me aware of a vulnerability in my own security program. I’ve discovered how you broke in and locked me out. Innovative, but it won’t happen again.”
Luli returned all the boxes to the bag, but kept the periwinkle clutch. It was the most buttery suede she’d ever touched. It had a tiny belt with a gold buckle. A wallet over a smartphone, if she wasn’t mistaken. Her ancient flip phone had died years ago and she had only ever held Mae’s long enough