One Moonlit Night (Moonlight Square: A Prequel Novella) by Gaelen Foley Page B

feeling too much today. My head’s a tangle. I don’t want to feel anymore tonight. I don’t want to think.”
    Gable paused for a long moment, then moved closer. “Well, I can help you with that.”
    “Hey!” she protested as he lifted her wineglass out of her hand, setting it aside. “I was enjoying that!”
    “You’ll enjoy this, too. Trust me,” he said in a husky voice, leaning down before her chair. With a gentle pressure of his fingertips under her chin, he raised her head and kissed her—a soft, satin caress of his mouth on hers.
    A sigh escaped her, and her aching toes curled where she sat.
    As his lips lingered on hers, she held perfectly still, breathless.
    Then he pulled back a small space. “Let me take care of you, Katrina.”
    At his whisper, she somehow found the strength to open her eyes after the silken spell he’d cast on her. Holding his gaze, she was not sure what he meant by that, but she was desperately eager all of a sudden to find out.
    “My lord.” She looked away in trembling confusion, cheeks flaming with heat. The pantry was spinning. “They say wine makes girls lose their inhibitions, then they become prey to wicked rakehells. Are you trying to take advantage of me?”
    “Would you like me to?” he whispered.
    She swallowed hard and stared at him as her will drained away. “God, yes .” Then, in the privacy of that little pantry, she moved into his arms, past caring. She didn’t stop to question what she was doing. She just wanted another taste of his beautiful mouth.
    He lifted her up in his arms and set her on the countertop formed by the lower row of cabinets. She slid her arms around his neck and returned his fevered kisses with abandon.
    Mmm, you taste so good, she wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t speak with his tongue swirling its magical dance in her mouth.
    Though the swift but hungry exchange soon left them both panting, neither of them had any desire to make a spectacle of themselves in front of the staff of the Grand Albion.
    Gable lifted her hand to his lips. “Come with me,” he ordered in a gravelly tone.
    “Where?” she whispered, heart pounding as he helped her down from the countertop. He did not let go of her hand.
    “You’ll see. Come on. You don’t even have to wear your shoes,” he added, sending her a seductive smile over his shoulder as he headed for the doorway.
    “Gable, where are you going?” she whispered insistently as she followed him, holding on to his hand, both worried and enchanted.
    “I’m spiriting you away, my darling. Come.” Then he stepped through the door that opened onto the terrace.
    She followed him outside into the dark with a thrill in her blood like nothing she had ever known before.
    They didn’t go far.
    Outside, the flagstones were even cooler underfoot than in the kitchen, and the starlight glimmered over the fragrant gardens. But Gable led her discreetly around the nearby corner of the building, where the terrace wrapped around the side of the hotel for just a few feet.
    Completely out of sight, he drove her back against the wall, and then he kissed her in earnest.
    Reckless passion poured from him as he leaned against her, grasped her hips, and moved his hard, lean body against her in the most tempting fashion while his kiss consumed her. It was shocking—and absolutely wonderful. A heady groan escaped her with the overwhelming realization of just how sincerely Gable wanted her.
    And he was true to his word. His ardent efforts really did erase every last sane, rational thought and irksome worry from her mind, transporting her senses far, far away to some lovely, wicked dreamland.
    She clung to him, lost in sensation and raw desire as he teased her lips with his kisses and held her pinned against the wall. It was exactly where she wanted to be.
    “Feeling better yet?” he breathed between kisses.
    “Much,” she gasped out.
    He gave her an impossibly seductive half-smile, his face shadowed, roguery