"That was a mistake."
"The interruption? Yes, I agree. One I'd like very much to remedy. Right now."
His fingers tightened on her wrists. "Kissing you was a mistake, Lady Julianne. One I don't want to repeat."
"You didn't mind calling me Julianne earlier… Gideon. And as for you not wanting to repeat our kiss…" She yanked her hand from his grasp and ran it swiftly downward, intending to point to the evidence of his desire. But he moved, setting her slightly off balance, and the back of her hand brushed the hard bulge in his breeches.
"Bloody hell." The obscenity was a low-pitched hiss on his quick intake of breath.
The bulge pulsed against her fingers in a manner so fascinating she couldn't pull her hand away. She swallowed and forced herself to boldly reach for what she wanted so badly. Gideon's passion. Now. Before she was entombed with the duke for a lifetime.
Summoning her courage, she brushed her fingers down his length. "This tells me you want to. Very much. Gideon, the only time I've ever felt free of that glass coffin is when you kissed me."
Instead of pulling away as she feared he might, he gazed at her through half-closed eyes and gave a slow thrust into her hand. The feel of him, so hard and hot, reduced her knees to porridge.
"I'm not some fancy, polite aristocrat with ice flowing in his blue-blooded veins that'll treat you like a fragile bit of glass, Julianne." His voice sounded scraped from his throat.
"To which I can only say thank God."
The raw hunger in his eyes all but devoured her. He wrapped one strong arm around her and jerked her against him. "You want a kiss? Very well, I'll oblige you, Princess. But be warned: you're about to find out precisely what a few swipes of the tongue can accomplish."
Chapter 11
Gideon didn't give her time to think, didn't give himself time to think, to reconsider. Damn it, he didn't want to think anymore. Couldn't fight this raw, raging need any longer. All he wanted was to feel. Her. All of her. Now.
He slanted his mouth over hers in a hard, hungry, demanding kiss. What sounded like a whimper came from her, but before he could even wonder if he'd hurt her, she proved he hadn't by winding her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him.
He clasped her to him, every muscle straining to get her closer, while his tongue explored the velvet of her mouth. Bloody hell, if heaven had a taste, she was it. Soft, warm, sweet, and delicious. Her body fit against his like a piece of a puzzle he hadn't known was missing. A tiny granule of sanity tried to work its way through the wild, desperate need careening through him but was incinerated when she squirmed against him.
White-hot desire exploded, and with a groan that seemed ripped from the depths of his soul, he ran one impatient hand down her back to curve around her lush bottom, to pull her tighter against his aching body. Possibly, just possibly he might have been able to dredge up the strength to halt this madness if she'd remained passive in his arms. But with her fingers sliding through his hair, her tongue dancing with his, and her body writhing against him, he didn't stand a chance.
His other hand plunged into her hair, scattering pins, sifting through a cascade of soft curls. The seductive scent of vanilla filled his head, overwhelming him with the need to taste.
Without breaking their frantic kiss, he scooped her into his arms then lowered her to the hearth rug, following her down. While his lips continued to ravage hers, he insinuated his knee between her thighs, and his hand found the soft swell of her breast. A low groan sounded. Hers, he thought, but he couldn't be sure.
Needed to touch her… had to touch her. He yanked down her bodice until her breasts were freed, and only then did he find the strength to leave her lips. He kissed his way along her jaw then ran his tongue along the side of her neck, gently sucking on the throbbing pulse there.
"Gideon…" his name, whispered on that breathy sigh, ignited even more of the fire in him that he would have sworn couldn't burn any hotter. She arched beneath him, and he dragged his mouth lower. His tongue circled one nipple then drew the tight bud deep into his mouth while his fingers found the other crest. Her hands fisted in his hair and she gasped, then released her breath on a long moan of pleasure.
He kissed and nuzzled his way around her luscious breasts, teasing and licking with his lips and tongue, lightly grazing her soft skin with his teeth, while his hand wandered lower, exploring the curve of her waist and hips through her gown. When his fingers curled over her mound, her heat nearly singed him.
A single word pounded through his mind, the same mantra that had been driving him mad with want for the past two months. Julianne…Julianne. His usual control burned to ashes, leaving only a hot, raw, desperate need that demanded to be satisfied. Wanting, needing more, he reached down and slipped his hand beneath the hem of her gown. Skimmed his palm up her stocking-covered leg, over the gentle curve of her calf and thigh. His restless fingers unerringly found the slit in her drawers. The first touch of her slick feminine folds nearly undid him. Bloody hell, she was so wet. So hot.
She groaned again, and he lifted his head. And gritted his teeth against the arousing sight of her. Hair a golden tumble of disarray, moist, kiss-swollen lips parted, eyes glazed and half-closed, nipples erect and wet from his mouth. Bathed in the glow from the fire, she somehow managed to look like an angel and living, breathing sin at the same time.
He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers. "Spread your legs," he whispered against her lips.
She splayed her thighs, and he teased her wet folds with a single fingertip. "Wider," he demanded. Once again she did as he bade, her ragged breaths warming his face. She clutched at his shoulders and lifted her hips, and another groan escaped her, this one ending with his name.
"Gideon…"
"Shhhh," he whispered against her ear.
"I… ohhhh, my… I can't. I feel as if I'm going to scream."
"If you do, you'll bring the entire household down upon us." He lifted his head and looked into her glazed eyes. "Neither of us wants that." God knows he didn't. He wasn't nearly done with her.
She pressed her lips together. "I'll try to be quiet but-ohhhh-you're making it extremely difficult." She glided her hand down his chest, over his abdomen, and his muscles jumped. "I want to touch you, too."
He pressed his erection against her hip to thwart her eager hand. Bloody hell, it was all he could do not to come as it was. One touch from her, and he'd explode in a heartbeat.
"Not now," he said against her lips. He eased one finger into her tight sheath to distract her and had to grit his teeth to contain the growl that rose in his throat. By God, she was tight. And so damn wet. And hot. And soft. And he was so damn hard he was going to lose his mind. More, damn it. He wanted more. Now. Now.
He slipped his hand from her body and, ignoring her sound of protest, moved to kneel between her splayed thighs. Heart pounding as if he'd sprinted to Bow Street and back, he impatiently pushed her gown up to her waist. Quickly unfastened her drawers. Grimly noted that his hands were far from steady.
Desperate need unlike anything he'd ever experienced grabbed him in a vise. He yanked her thin cotton drawers down and off her legs, not pausing or caring when the delicate material tore. If he'd had the mind to do so, he would have been appalled at his lack of control, but he was beyond caring about anything save the dark, wild, reckless need clawing at him.