The betraying muscle flickered in his lean cheek, and he breathed unsteadily. The soft, broken hiss was the only sound apart from the flames crackling in the grate. When she lifted her hands to his waistcoat buttons, she felt the ragged rise and fall of his chest.
She flicked open one button. Two. Three. The beautiful garment sagged open.
She slid her hands under the brocade to slip it off. Now only the fine material of his shirt separated her from his skin. He was hot as a blazing fire and so tense she feared he might shatter.
Before she thought to censor herself, her gaze dropped. His arousal swelled against the front of his trousers in unmistakable demand.
“You know I want you,” he said flatly. “You use it against me.”
She shook her head, setting the waistcoat over his coat. With every garment she removed, she felt like she seized enemy colors in a battle.
“I use it for you.” If she didn’t believe that, she couldn’t summon courage to persist. She gathered that courage and placed her hand over the bulge in his trousers.
Her breath caught. He made a strangled sound deep in his throat. She’d never touched him there before. Through his clothing, she felt the tensile power. The life. The vigor. Automatically, she shaped her fingers to the hard length. His flesh surged into her palm as if it had a will of its own.
Gideon closed his eyes. “Charis…”
She bit her lip and lifted her hand away. She shook as she reached for his neckcloth. Her fingers were clumsy, and the length of linen seemed impossible to untangle.
She sucked in a deep breath, redolent of Gideon, and forced herself to concentrate. Eventually, she managed to tug the neckcloth free. His shirt gaped. His pulse beat wildly at the base of his throat.
He breathed rapidly. So did she. The room felt close, confined, stifling. Need settled low and heavy in her belly.
She hadn’t set out to titillate him. Or herself. But the act of undressing this big strong man—and him standing quiveringly still as she disrobed him—made heat well between her legs.
The air was sharp with arousal. Male and female. She wasn’t touching him, but his desire surrounded her like sheets of flame.
He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to witness what she did. His tension was a vibrant, writhing force. Air scraped in and out of his lungs.
Doubt assailed her. Held her paralyzed.
Could she do this? Should she do this? What if her actions pushed him deeper into purgatory?
She braced her shoulders and reached forward to pull his shirt free of his trousers. Her heart banged against her ribs. Her hands shook.
He opened his eyes and snatched the hem of his shirt. “Here, damn you,” he grated out. He tore the garment in two, shucked the ragged pieces, and dropped them to the floor.
Anything Charis might have said lodged unspoken in her tight throat. Her hands fisted at her sides. Her eyes flew up to meet Gideon’s glassy gaze, then dropped to convulsively trace every line of his torso.
She’d known he’d be beautiful. But his virile splendor left her speechless. His pale skin stretched tight over ridges of hard muscle. Feathery dark hair covered the broad plane of his chest.
Scars patterned his chest and arms. Long lines that she guessed came from a whipping. Pale satiny welts that looked like burns. Round marks that could be bullet holes. A tangible history of unrelenting pain.
Her attention returned to his face. His jaw set like stone with stoic endurance.
He loathed this. He loathed this to the depths of his being.
Oh, Gideon, I’m so sorry. Forgive me.
She reached out and placed a gentle hand on one powerful arm. He flinched away. Just like he used to. Fear scored her heart. Would tonight hurl him back into his nightmare isolation?
She straightened. She’d set out on this path. For good or ill, she must follow it to the end.
Steeling herself for what she’d see, she slowly stepped behind him. He held himself so still, she couldn’t hear his breathing anymore.
His back was long. Leanly muscled. Graceful in its strength.
Marred with scars upon scars upon scars.