When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,64
She pulled her gaze from the spot and looked up at him.
He watched her as if challenging her.
She could end this now. Stop whatever was forming between them and simply go to sleep.
Or she could take her courage and plunge—into a real marriage—a real connection—with Gideon.
A part of her called Too soon! Too soon, but she ignored it. She wanted this.
Messalina rose slowly before him.
His eyes glinted as he watched her.
She took a deep breath and untied the bow at her throat. She felt as if she were revealing much more than her body.
The wrapper fell to the ground.
She stood trembling a moment in her sheer chemise before she licked her lips and turned to the bed. “Are you coming?”
He caught her wrist as she reached the bed, spinning her around. His mouth claimed hers as if he could no longer hold himself back. As if he’d held on to his restraint by the tips of his fingers.
He angled his head, opening his mouth over hers, almost desperately thrusting his tongue past her lips, his fingers splayed against her cheek all the while.
He held her tenderly even as his mouth ravaged hers.
Warmth shot straight down her body to settle between her legs, throbbing. She moaned, lifting her hands to clutch his head. She wanted more. Wanted something that she wasn’t sure he could give her.
Wanted the freedom to come undone.
She turned her face from his, trying to thread her fingers through his hair even as he ran his mouth down her neck. She was breathless, almost giddy from trepidation, anticipation, and need.
The tie in his hair frustrated her efforts. She yanked it free, making his black hair fall about his cheeks. She smiled at the sight, gathering his curls into her hands. She felt almost privileged. Gideon didn’t let down his guard for many.
In an abrupt movement, he lifted her to the bed and followed her, settling by her side.
She looked up at him, gasping for breath.
He was formidable like this—his hair wild and untamed, his hairy chest no longer kept hidden.
And his eyes. They were so possessive, so focused on her, that she felt a shiver run down her back.
The ache in her quim grew, pounding with her heartbeat.
He levered himself up, leaning over her. He took the ribbon that gathered her chemise at the neckline and pulled, untying it.
She stilled like a cat caught by a far larger beast.
She felt him spread the neck of her chemise before he slowly drew it down. Until the fine material caught on her nipples.
For a moment he simply stared at her. Then—when she was about to demand he do something—he moved, tracing her areola through the lawn chemise with one finger.
She swallowed hard. It was so odd—such a tiny touch—it felt almost like pinpricks, except it was pleasurable.
Unbearably pleasurable.
Her whole body felt alight.
One finger. That was the only part of him touching her, and she feverishly wondered what would happen when he used his entire body. She arched at the thought.
He placed his palm flat on her upper chest, holding her still, and then he bent to lick her nipple through the chemise.
She had to close her eyes.
Oh Lord, this was wonderful.
He suddenly drew that bit of flesh into his mouth and suckled, sending streaks of pleasure throughout her body. It was so sweet, so intolerable she wanted to scream.
He lifted his head and she opened her eyes. Just in time to see him transfer to her other nipple, sucking strongly until the material was damp. He drew back, his eyes frankly on her breasts, looking very satisfied.
She felt the chill of the damp material and she wanted to squirm.
He glanced at her face and flashed her a roguish smile before impatiently pushing down her chemise.
When he took her naked breast into his mouth the heat made her cry out.
She panted as he drew at her breasts one after the other, pulling pleasure from her center through those taut peaks.
She ached.
He sat up, taking all that sensation with him, and she couldn’t help but grasp for him.
He growled, pulling her chemise over her head.
And then she was naked for the first time with a man. She froze, controlling the impulse to cover herself while at the same time feeling as if she might explode.
He was watching her, though, and the hunger, the want, in his gaze made her relax.
He still wore his smalls.
“Take those off,” she ordered, her voice low and throaty.
He stood and unbuttoned his smalls, letting them fall to