Chapter Fourteen #2
His mouth slanted over hers, softly, as if testing, tasting, sipping, and her blood turned to liquid fire. She fisted her hands in his waistcoat, holding on for dear life.
His tongue nudged her lips apart, easing into her mouth to feather over hers.
Dear Heaven. A tremor vibrated through her as dizzying pleasure threatened to swallow her whole.
One of his large hands moved over her back, drawing her body into his. She melted into him, marveling over the feel of his unyielding hardness. Every part of him was like forged steel and she could not get close enough. Her arms twined up and around his neck locking her against him.
She’d had no notion kissing could inspire this all-consuming hunger.
Gideon took his mouth from hers to brush kisses over her cheek, her jaw. When he brought his lips to her ear, and his breath curled into her, a shiver of yearning tore through her.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “What is this? I feel so strange, Gideon.”
“I’ll show you exactly what this is, sweetheart.”
He scooped her off her feet, and in two long strides, carried her to the massive bed she had once claimed as hers. With one swipe, he jerked the bed covers back, then lowered her to the cool, silken sheets about which she had raved.
Bed sheets? Her eyes snapped open. She had not even realized she’d closed them.
Gideon stared down at her, hunger blazing in his brilliant eyes. His fingers worked at the buttons of his waistcoat, nimble and efficient. He peeled out of it, letting it fall.
She sat up, alarm spiking through her. “What are you doing?”
Tugging his shirttails from his breeches, he froze. A dawning look of wariness came over him. “Undressing.”
She blinked rapidly and squirmed her way off the bed. “Why?”
He cursed under his breath. “Because I thought we were going to make love, wife.”
She could overlook the blatant sarcasm. However, allowing him to make love to her, that most uncomfortable of wifely duties she’d endured enough times to know for certain, was something else entirely. “B-but you only asked about kissing.”
He eyed her, clearly bemused. “And did you enjoy my kiss?”
“Yes,” she admitted. Even just the thought of it made her heart pound and her stomach tickle with butterflies. “Very much.”
He tucked his shirt back in, studying her, she decided, like one might consider complicated math. Finally, he moved in very close to her and flattened one large palm against her belly, over her skirts. “Do you feel hot, here, Gwen?” he asked, his voice a low purr.
She licked her lips and fought not to squirm against his touch. “Yes.”
He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Are you wet?”
“Am I…you mean…” Her cheeks blazed with heat, even as her apex thrummed in reaction to his roughly spoken words.
“Is your pretty purse hot and wet?”
His harsh whisper in her ear sent another shaft of heat through her. She closed her eyes. “My…” She could not repeat his words. Though unfamiliar, she was fairly sure she discerned their meaning. “Do you…Is it important?”
“Extremely important.”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He groaned and turned away from her, stopping when he reached the lower post of his bed.
After an interminable silence, he pivoted to face her.
“You are quite correct, madam. I only asked to kiss you.” An enigmatic gleam shone in his golden-green eyes.
“Come.” He approached her, took her hand in his and started for the adjoining door.
“It grows late. You should probably return to your chambers.”
“If you think so…” She trailed after him, aware of a niggling sense of disappointment. After the things he’d asked her, she’d expected some sort of proposition. Not that she meant to take him up on anything, of course.
He crossed through the doorway, and led her straight to her bed where he promptly sat, his back against the headboard.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought you might like a goodnight kiss.”
“Oh.”
“You’ll have to come part way, madam.” He inched toward the bed’s center, making space for her.
“Oh.” She said again, and eased a hip onto the mattress. She felt awkward and unsure, which annoyed her. Why should she, when this was her bedchamber and—
Her thoughts stalled as Gideon brought his mouth to hers.
Only his mouth. Without touching her anywhere else, he destroyed her ability to think beyond his kiss.
He suckled her lower lip between his, nipped it softly with his teeth, slid his tongue over the seam of her mouth, and feathered soft kisses over the corners.
Wanting more, she leaned toward him.
He pulled slightly back. She could either follow after him or allow the fragile connection to sever. God help her, she followed, wrapping her arms around his neck, to prevent him slipping away again.
Gideon’s low moan bespoke hunger, and heralded a curious ache in her chest. She tightened her arms, trying to draw him closer.
Abruptly his mouth left hers.
She blinked at him in stupefaction as he untwined her arms from around his neck, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and got to his feet.
“Good night, Gwen,” he said, his voice chipper. “Sleep well.”
Make that annoyingly chipper.
Before she could formulate a reply, he crossed to the adjoining door, passed through to his chamber, then closed the door with a definite click.
She stared at the closed door, disappointment and frustration tangling inside her. He’d done nothing other than respect her wishes. She’d complained he’d asked only to kiss her, and he’d agreed with her summation.
So why was she now torn between the urge to kick herself or kick him?
She settled for punching her pillow, telling herself when tomorrow came, she’d be glad they hadn’t passed a point of no return.
How awkward if she allowed him to make love to her and hated it, as she was sure to do.
She remembered the unpleasantness, the emptiness that followed, all too well.
She probably ought not to have indulged in the heated kiss to begin with. Of a certainty, she would not allow it to happen again.
If she replayed his words, those harshly whispered queries he’d breathed into her ear regarding her state of arousal, over and over in her head as she tossed and turned throughout the night, it was only to be expected.
After all, no one had ever spoken to her in such a way.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the thrill of heat that swarmed her flesh with each heady remembrance. Nothing whatsoever.