Chapter Eighteen #2
He watched her, his chest rising and falling rapidly as her fingers worked through her hair, loosening curl after curl.
The long tresses tumbled down over her hands and arms, caressing her skin.
He watched her until at last he could stand still no longer, and then he reached out, sinking his hands into her springing curls.
He kissed her again, but with increasing urgency now, as if he could not get enough of the taste of her mouth.
He pulled away at last to unfasten her gown with hands that trembled.
With equally clumsy fingers, she worked at his buttons until she opened his shirt wide enough that she could slide her hands beneath it.
Slowly she roamed the bare ridges and curves of his chest.
Gideon went still, his hands going to her shoulders to steady himself as she caressed his bare skin.
His teeth sank into his lower lip, holding back the moans that threatened to break from him as her inexperienced fingers aroused him almost past bearing.
She explored his ribs and chest, fingers curling around his flat masculine nipples and gliding downward over the softer flesh of his stomach until she came up against the barrier of his waistband.
“Sweet Lord, you are killing me,” he murmured.
Irene raised her head, concerned. “Should I stop? Did I hurt you?”
He shook his head, seizing her hand and bringing it up to his lips. “Only a pleasure so sweet ’tis near pain.” He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it aside. “But let me please you now.”
Gideon hooked his hands into the shoulders of her gown, now unfastened to below her waist, and peeled it down, revealing her soft white curves encased in only a chemise and petticoats.
After untying the strings of the petticoats, he let them fall in a puddle at her feet.
Watching her, watching his hands on her, he undid the ribbons of her chemise and opened it, freeing her breasts from all constraint.
He slid the cloth off her shoulders, his eyes intent on the soft cotton as it dragged over her rosy, peaked nipples.
Irene’s breath hitched. She had never dreamed that it would stir her so to have Gideon’s eyes on her naked body, to see the desire that darkened his gaze and softened his mouth.
He reached out and slowly, delicately drew his fingertips over her breasts, circling the centers, which hardened even more at his touch.
She trembled, unprepared for the intense pleasure that speared down through her, spreading in a hot pool deep in her loins.
She had never known, never guessed, that a man’s touch could make her feel this way—so unsettled, so eager, so tingling with pleasure.
Gideon cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs circling around her nipples.
Then he bent his head and drew one nipple into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue as his thumbs had done a moment before.
Irene’s knees buckled at the new sensation, and she was grateful for the strong arm he looped around her waist, holding her up.
His mouth tugged at her breast, hot and wet, while his tongue teased the tight bud.
It seemed to Irene that some invisible cord of pleasure ran straight down through her, connecting her tender nipple to the core of her being, and with every pull of his mouth, every caress of his tongue, the cord pulsed, flooding her loins with heat and need.
She dug her fingers into his thick hair, holding on as the sensations swirled and built within her.
Even the feel of his hair between her fingers excited her, she realized.
She could not hold back a moan as his mouth left her nipple.
She waited, panting a little, as his mouth trailed across her breasts.
She felt supremely alive and sensitive to every slight sensation; even the touch of the evening air upon her dampened nipple made the hunger in her swell.
And then his mouth fastened on her other breast, slowly, leisurely, bringing it to life.
Irene choked back a little sobbing breath, and her hands slid down the firm column of Gideon’s neck to his shoulders.
She stroked the bony ridge of his collarbone and curved her palms over his shoulders, then let them drift down over the smooth skin of his arms, underlaid with muscle, and found herself fascinated and aroused by the combination of textures.
He lifted her, carrying her over to the pillows that lay tumbled across the floor near the wall.
After setting her down, he went to the last garment that covered her, untying the ribbons at the waist of her pantaloons.
The waistband sagged, and he slipped his hands beneath it, slowly shoving the material down as his hands slid down over the sides of her hips.
The undergarment fell to her feet, leaving her naked to his gaze except for the thin stockings on her legs, more provocative than concealing, and her flimsy dancing slippers.
He looked at her, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, his face flushed. A lady, she supposed, should have been repulsed by the lust stamped upon his features, but she found that the way he looked at her only made her want him more.
Gideon curved his hands over her backside, then around, and after going down on one knee, he rolled her stockings down, one by one, taking the garters with them, then lifted each foot and took off her dancing slipper and pulled the stocking free.
She reached a hand to his shoulder for balance. His flesh was searing.
He pressed a soft kiss against the inside of her thigh just above her knee, and repeated the action with the other leg.
Then he reached up and pulled her down onto the pillows beside him.
Irene lay back, watching Gideon as he stood and divested himself of the rest of his garments, carelessly kicking off the formal shoes, and peeling down the breeches and stockings.
He looked, she thought, magnificent naked—powerful and muscled—and even though it was a little frightening to see for the first time the hard evidence of his desire, it was also compelling.
She could not imagine taking him into her, and yet at the same time heat expanded between her legs, making her want to open to him.
He lay down beside her, propped up on one elbow.
He looked down at her, slowly moving his hand over her body, caressing and teasing, arousing ever more delightful sensations in her.
Irene’s skin felt deliciously alive, sensitive to the slightest touch, and she was aware of a very wanton desire to spread her legs for him, a desire she suppressed until he slid his hand down the center of her body, over her stomach and between her thighs.
She drew a shaky breath and closed her eyes, feeling sure that this should be embarrassing, not wonderful, but unable to feel anything but eager pleasure.
Delicately, his fingers explored this innermost secret part of her, separating and stroking the tender folds, slick with moisture.
Irene could not hold back a moan, and she arched up against his questing fingers, seeking release.
“Gideon…” His name was a shaky whisper.
He bent and brushed his lips over her mouth, murmuring, “Not just yet. Let me make it easier for you.”
“I want you,” she said more clearly, opening her eyes and gazing up into his.
He tightened as if she had touched him and drew a slow breath. “I know. I know. And you have no idea what that does to me.” He nuzzled against her neck, his breath sending shivers through her. “But first…this will help.”
He kissed her breasts, playing with her nipples with his tongue and lips, fanning the flames of her desire. And as he did so, he slipped a finger inside her, stroking her, and then another, stretching and filling her, opening her.
Irene moved her legs restlessly, digging her heels into the pillows beneath her and moving against his hand. He let out a little laughing groan, and then, at last, he moved between her legs. His hands beneath her hips, he lifted her and slowly, carefully, sank into her.
Irene gasped, pain flashing through her briefly and she tightened.
Gideon paused, waiting, and gradually she relaxed.
Gently, inexorably, he slid into her, filling her.
Irene wrapped her legs around him, moving a little to take him in more fully.
He began to move within her, slowly pulling back and thrusting in, and with each movement something tightened within her, coiling harder and tighter.
She sobbed, moving with him, yearning for something that she could not even name.
And then she felt it explode within her, a pleasure so deep and intense that she was rocked by it.
She shuddered, clinging to him, as Gideon thrust hard and deep inside her, crying out as his own release took him.
Waves of pleasure washed through her, rippling outward to every part of her body.
He collapsed against her, and Irene wrapped her arms around him, stunned by what she had felt.
Whatever happened, she thought hazily, whether Gideon ever came to love her or not, she knew that she had found her home.