"Not all love stories have a happy ending, I'm afraid."
The air in the room seemed thick and hot. In desperation, he looked down at the book. Opened it to a random page. And scanned the lines.
She lay on the bed, naked, legs splayed to reveal glistening folds he ached to touch. Lifting one hand toward him, she whispered a single word: "Please." And Maxwell knew in that instant that nothing from her world or the after-world would stop him from making love to her. Claiming her as his own. At least for tonight, for they couldn't have forever.
He snapped the book shut and drew in a shaky breath. Bloody hell. It was definitely time to get the hell out of this room, which suddenly felt as if it were the size of a birdcage. And on fire.
"You need to…" His words trailed off, and he stared into the box. One item remained. As if in a trance, he reached in to pull out the folded white square with the dark blue G embroidered in the corner.
"This is my handkerchief."
She hesitated then nodded. And suddenly it looked as if her heart were in her eyes, and everything inside him seemed to still and race at the same time. These things, these simple things she called her most prized possessions, her treasures, held no monetary value. Yet they were rich in sentiment. Certainly not the treasures of a spoiled princess. No, they were the treasures of a sensitive, thoughtful, romantic, beautiful young woman. One who'd added his handkerchief to her Box of Wishes and Dreams.
God help him.
"You offered it to me last night," she whispered. "I hope you'll let me keep it. Someday it will be all I'll have of you."
Bloody hell. His heart felt heavy. As if each beat were a blow against his ribs. "Julianne-"
She cut off his words by placing her fingers against his lips. "I want you to know," she said, her gaze steady on his, "that since the moment I met you two months ago, you haven't been out of my thoughts. You're the first thing I think about when I awaken, the last thing I think of before I fall asleep, and you invade every thought in between. What we shared last night was… magical. Incredible. And I want more of it. More of everything. With you. Now. While I still can."
Chapter 17
Julianne saw the fire flare in Gideon's eyes, a heat so smoldering it seemed to set her skin ablaze. He'd spoken of his honor, but surely honor had naught to do with him accepting what she wanted to give him, what she desperately wanted to share with him. All of herself. What she needed to do now was set his skin ablaze. But in spite of the scandalously explicit books she'd read, she had no experience as a seductress. Having information and knowing how to apply it in a situation like this were two very different things. All she could do was let him know how much she wanted him. And pray he wanted her as well.
Her fingers still lay across his mouth, and she traced them over his full bottom lip. Then she stepped forward, until her body brushed the length of his. His nostrils flared, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Encouraged, she rose up on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed herself tighter against him. Then nearly sagged in relief. Even if he'd wanted to deny it, he couldn't refute the hard evidence of his arousal.
"Kiss me, Gideon," she whispered against his rigid jaw, the highest spot she could reach without his cooperation. Heart pounding, she squirmed against him, clinging tighter. "Please. Hold me. Touch me. Kiss m-"
Her words were cut off when, with a low groan that sounded as if it were ripped from his soul, he slanted his mouth over hers in a wild, raw, fiercely hungry kiss. One strong arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her closer, banding their bodies together as if they were bound by ropes. His other hand plunged into her hair, scattering pins, holding her head immobile while his mouth ravaged hers. A dark thrill raced through her at the intensity of his kiss. He kissed her as if he wanted to devour her, clasped her to him as if he'd never let her go. His tongue invaded her mouth, a favor she returned, relishing his warm, delicious taste.
Closer. She wanted to be closer to him. To feel more of his hardness. More of his heat. Taste more. Touch more. Just… more.
It seemed as if she could feel her heartbeat everywhere. Pounding in her ears. At the base of her throat. Her temples. Fluttering in her chest and stomach. In her abdomen, pressed so tightly against him. Throbbing in the aching folds between her legs.
Her restless fingers combed through his thick hair, fisting in the silky strands to pull his mouth closer. She heard him groan, then her feet left the floor as he simply lifted her straight up. As if in a daze, she felt him backing up, stopping when he hit the wall. Without breaking their kiss, he spread his legs, curved one large hand around her buttocks, and drew her into the V of his thighs.
And suddenly it seemed as if his hands were everywhere. Skimming down her back to caress her bottom. Plunging into her hair. Dipping into her bodice. Palming her breasts. Teasing her nipples into taut, aching points.
His mouth was equally relentless, trailing hot kisses along her jaw. Licking fire down her neck, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin.
He reached between them and jerked his shirttails from his breeches, then grabbed her wrists from around his neck and slapped her hands on his chest. "Touch me," he commanded in a raw voice against her lips, his warm, rapid breaths mingling with hers. "Bloody hell, touch me."
She was only too happy to comply. She splayed her fingers then dragged her palms downward, slipping them beneath the untucked linen. The instant she touched his skin, they both groaned. His eyes slammed shut, and he dropped his head back, the muscles of his throat working as he swallowed hard.
Slowly she slid her hands upward, thrilling at how his muscles jumped beneath her touch. His skin was smooth and hot, ridged with hard muscle. Her fingers brushed over his nipples then sifted through the springy curls dusting his skin.
He groaned, lifted his head, and captured her face between his hands-hands she noted weren't quite steady. His eyes burned like dark coals, holding hers captive, his calloused thumbs gliding over her cheekbones while her hands roamed beneath his shirt. The raw hunger and need in his eyes most likely should have frightened her. Instead it exhilarated her. And she wanted more of it.
She dragged her hands lower and brushed them over the fascinating bulge tenting his breeches. A shudder ran through him. "I want to touch all of you, Gideon."
For the space of a single heartbeat he remained immobile, his gaze locked on hers, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Then with a low growl, he ripped open his breeches.
His hard flesh rose between them, fascinating, beckoning. His chest rose and fell with his fast, heavy breaths, and she slowly encircled him with her fingers then lightly squeezed.
"Bloody hell." The words hissed through his lips, and he grasped her shoulders, his fingers tightly gripping her upper arms. She pulled her gaze away from his captivating arousal and looked up. He regarded her through half-closed eyes that glittered like diamonds.
"You feel so… hot," she whispered. "And hard."
"You have no idea." He flexed his hips, a slow thrust into her hand. "Again," he growled, and she wasn't certain if the single word was more an order or a plea.
She obeyed, lightly squeezing him. His eyes slammed shut, and she looked down, watching her fingers surround his flesh and move slowly up and down his long, hard length, each stroke dragging another deep groan from him. With an agonized sound he pressed forward, grinding into her palm, and to her utter fascination a pearl of dewy fluid emerged from the tip of his arousal. She captured the drop on her fingertip and slowly circled the velvety head with the wetness.