Her breath trembled.
He lifted his head just enough to see her eyes.
“I will,” he said, rougher now. “If you want me to.”
“No,” she whispered.
Gideon went utterly still.
“No?”
“Don’t resist me, Gideon.” Her voice shook, but her gaze held his. “Never resist me. Please.”
His control nearly broke on the word please.
He swallowed hard and then, pulling on all his control, he asked, “What don’t you want me to resist?”
For one breathless moment, she said nothing at all.
Then, with honesty that devastated him, she lifted one hand and touched his mouth with her fingertips.
“My mouth.”
Catching her fingers, he pressed a kiss to the gloved tips. “That, I have already failed to resist.”
“Fail again.”
Christ.
The kiss was deeper this time. Slower. With all the hunger he’d been staving for days. She arched off the sofa, and made a sound in his mouth that turned the blood in his veins molten.
“What else?” he asked.
The question was barely more than a rasp.
Her lashes fluttered.
“My throat.”
He obeyed.
There was no other word for it.
He lowered his mouth to the curve beneath her jaw. When he went lower, her head tipped back into the cushions, offering him more.
“What else, Beatrice?”
Her hands moved restlessly over his shoulders.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He kissed the hollow above her collarbone. “Tell me.”
She caught his hand and slid it from her waist to the outer curve of her hip.
“Here,” she whispered.
Barely a sound at all.
