His release built, knotting his spine, twisting his gut, tightening his balls to agony.
He lifted his head, and his throat clenched on a shout. Anguish. Shame. Possession.
Freedom.
One last thrust. His world ignited into fire.
He flooded her with his agony and his loss and his anger. His hips jerked as the crisis flung him into eternity.
For a long time, Gideon’s mind closed down to anything but the volcanic release.
He slumped over her, gasping for breath. There was only his quivering body, the gallop of his heart, the warm embrace of darkness.
He was utterly exhausted. Weary to the point of torpor.
Vaguely, he heard her make a sound of discomfort.
He tried to shut it from his mind. He belonged in this darkness. He wanted to stay here.
He’d acted like a beast.
The unwelcome knowledge nibbled at the blanketing stillness.
Oh, merciful God, what have I done?
With a groan of utter desolation, he pulled free and rolled onto his back. If he could trust his legs to carry him, he’d walk out.
He stared at the ceiling, waiting for his breath to steady and his heartbeat to resume its usual rate. Waiting for the world to crash in on him.
In spite of his howling conscience, his physical self relished what he’d done. The sheer power of the experience eclipsed every previous sexual encounter the way the sun outshone a candle.
He stirred, turned his head to look at Charis. The movement cost the last of his depleted strength. She’d drained him to the lees.
“Are you all right?” he asked gruffly.
She was in profile. She licked her lips. The innocent movement sent a smoldering bolt to his loins. Suddenly, he wasn’t quite as exhausted as he had been.
She made no attempt to cover her nakedness. Knowing she lay bare beside him piqued his desire. He, on the other hand, hadn’t had the finesse to do more than tear his trousers open and have at her.
“Perfectly, thank you.”
Gideon frowned. Her polite, detached tone worried him.
Perhaps he really had hurt her. He leaned up on one elbow to see into her face. “I fell on you like a hungry dog on a bone.”
She stared upward. He wondered what her determinedly neutral expression concealed. Devastation? Fury? Pain? Oh, hell, don’t let him have done her injury. He’d been passionately unrestrained, and until two nights ago, she’d been a virgin.
She glanced at him out the corner of her eye. “You’re not shaking. You’re not sick. You’re not sweating.”
He frowned. “I’m worried about you. Forget about me.”
“You forgot about you.”
She sat up, drawing her knees up. The girlish grace of the movement captured his attention, stirred his interest. Then he realized what she’d said.
“Was that an experiment?” Resentment stirred under his concern. “You’ve got a bloody cheek.”
She bent so her thick hair fell forward, hiding her expression. “I couldn’t see how else to test if what I guessed was true.”