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His hands cupped her breasts through her bodice, then trailed down to the curve of her waist.

His cock jumped, his muscles tensing with anticipation. But his mind remained cold.

Vivienne slid her palms up his chest and over his shoulders. Then, rising on her toes, she reached up to claim his mouth.

Gideon stepped back, catching her wrists and holding her at arm’s length.

“No kisses,” he said quietly.

Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, perhaps disappointment—but she nodded.

He gave a faint smile. A smirk. Then he whirled her around and bent her over the writing desk. Her skirts rustled as he bunched them up around her waist.

She whimpered.

His fingers found the heat between her thighs, working her until she was slick and ready, her soft moans filling the quiet room. She arched against his touch, pressing back against him.

“Please,” she whispered. “I need you.”

Still working at her center, Gideon freed himself from his breeches with the other hand and pressed his cock to her core.

Vivienne let out a moan, and Gideon entered her in one quick thrust, driving into her to the hilt. She cried out, her hands clutching the edge of the desk, her body moving with his, meeting each of his rough strokes with eager motion.

“Yes, harder!” she cried.

He gripped her hips tightly, his movements rough and rhythmic, his thoughts boiling down to the single-minded need to spill—to be emptied.

To forget.

Your touch is so soft, so tender. I love your gentle soul.

The phantom voice—the memory—echoed in his mind, and he shook it away.

He clenched his jaw. There was no room for these thoughts right now. No room for her. No room for ghosts.

He thrust harder, driving the memory away. His grip tightened on Vivienne’s hips. He squeezed her bottom, forcing his mind to remain here, now, in this body, with this woman.

Unsuccessful, he paused.

Vivienne whimpered in protest.

“Get up,” he ordered.

She obeyed, standing and turning to face him. Her cheeks were flushed, her coiffure undone, hair spilling over her shoulders. Her skirts slipped down, covering her thighs and legs again. She eyed him with a questioning gaze, her eyes slipping lower until they paused on his cock.

He fisted it.

She licked her lips.

Gideon tipped his head. “On your knees.”

With a wicked grin, she sank to the carpet. She raised her eyes to his, and Gideon lifted a brow. Taking his cock in her hand, she wrapped her lips around it and sucked.

Gideon closed his eyes, waiting for the wave of pleasure to surge through his body.

It didn’t.

His cock responded, his body moved—but it was all mechanical. The pleasure didn’t crest, just stirred beneath the surface in his groin, refusing to rise above his belt.