Beside Her #3
Instead, her breath shivered out, and her knee shifted beneath the fabric—to make room for him.
With his hand cradling the back of her knee, Gideon stilled. “Should I resist you here?” His voice was rough.
“No.” Her voice shook. “Not there.”
His hand slid above her knee, to the edge of her stocking.
“Here?”
“No,” she breathed. “Do not resist me there.”
Pulse slamming, he slid his hand higher. Carefully. Reverently.
Beatrice’s breath came in uneven little pulls.
“Higher.” And then… “Please.”
That was the end of him.
He kissed her again as his fingers brushed the tender place between her thighs, skimming the sweetest, slickest flesh.
Beatrice trembled beneath him.
“You are,” he said, “Irresistible.”
She was warm and wet. Impossibly inviting. The knowledge that she wanted him—wanted this—flooded Gideon with such savage tenderness that he nearly forgot how to breathe.
Her body gave a small, helpless jerk beneath his hand.
“God,” he whispered against her mouth. “Beatrice.”
He touched her again, learning the slick seam of her, the way her breathing changed when his fingers found places that had her clutching at his coat.
But when he tested her entrance, pressing only lightly, he stopped.
Not because she resisted. But because he needed to be sure he never, ever, mistook fear for want.
Gideon lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes.
Her lips parted. Her pupils were wide, dark, dazed, but she was looking back at him.
“Tell me if you wish me to stop.”
She swallowed. “I don’t.”
He held still a moment longer anyway, his finger resting at the entrance of her body, his other hand braced beside her head.
“Tell me what you like.”
Her breath shivered out. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s find out together, shall we?”
A single nod. It was enough.
He pressed forward only a fraction. Her fingers tightened on his lapel, and Gideon froze.
“Beatrice?”
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
His heart struck hard against his ribs.
“There you are,” he whispered. “Stay with me.”
“Yes.”
“My perfect, lovely girl,” he breathed, and eased into her with impossible care. “So lovely. So perfect, my sweet little archer.”
She made a sound then, low and broken and astonished, and Gideon had to fight every instinct in his body. Because she was tight and hot and yielding around his finger, and the intimacy of it—her trust, the brave little tremor that went through her…
Damn well unmanned him.
But he was determined to show her that touch could ask rather than demand.
That a man could hold back.
When he moved again, it was with a small, careful stroke, watching her face with the focus of a man studying scripture. Her brow drew together.
“Too much?”
“No.” The answer came quickly, almost surprised. “No, it’s…”
He stilled. “What?”
Her lashes fluttered. “Strange.”
A breath of laughter escaped him, quiet and helpless. “A damning indictment.”
Her mouth curved faintly despite herself.
Then he moved again, still gentle, but deeper, and whatever humor had touched her face vanished into wonder. Her hips shifted toward him, barely at all, but enough.
“There,” he murmured. “That?”
She nodded, breath catching.
He brushed his thumb above where his finger entered her, a gentle flutter meant to coax, not claim.
Beatrice’s entire body tightened.
“Yes.”
One little word that nearly ruined him.
He began moving inside her again while his thumb learned the rhythm that made her breaths quicken. He watched every change in her face—the soft shock, pleasure she couldn’t hide, and that helpless little crease between her eyes when sensation gathered faster than she expected.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Just like that.”
Her hand slid from his lapel to the back of his neck. She was clinging to him.
“Gideon.”
“I know.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I have you.”
And God help him, he did.
Not as he had any right to have her.
But for this moment, she was beneath his hand, open and trembling and trusting him with the very place where another man had taught her terror.
The realization nearly broke hm.
He wanted to kill for her.
He wanted to love her with a gentleness so complete it would leave no room for old darkness.
Love.
He bent and kissed her instead, swallowing the sounds she made as his hand moved beneath her skirts. And, God help him, he felt every reaction. Every shudder, the desperate little shifts of her hips…
Come apart, Beatrice. For me.
“Gideon,” she whispered.
“I know.” His mouth brushed hers. “I’ve got you.”
“I know.” Her fingers dug into the skin on his neck, and her body drew taut beneath him, shaking around his touch. Her breath caught once—then broke.
With a stunned little cry against his mouth and a shudder that moved through her whole body. So… Beautiful. So… precious.
Gideon held her through it, his own restraint stretched to the edge of madness as she clung to him, breathless and trusting and undone.
Mine.
For one suspended moment, there was nothing but the sound of her breathing and the terrifying knowledge that he had never wanted anything more.
Then…
Voices in the hall.
Gideon froze.
A man’s voice. Low. Familiar.
Dash.