She shook with impatience. She wanted passion. She wanted to know he hungered for her. But this tenderness was sweeter than sugar. She felt her soul unfurl. He’d made love to her twice. Neither time had he been tender.
Now he treated her as if she were made of finest Venetian glass. Likely to shatter at the slightest touch.
She raised her hands. One hooked around his wrist. The other rested on his chest where she’d touched him this morning. Under her palm, his heart raced.
“Kiss me properly,” she begged. “Or I’ll go mad.”
“We’re both mad,” he said with sudden determination. “God help us.”
As abruptly as that, the world exploded into flame. His mouth covered hers with ferocious passion.
She gasped with shock. Then with astounded pleasure. He was all hot desire. But the ghost of earlier tenderness lingered like embers from a banked fire. Like stars fading at sunrise.
She surrendered, parting her lips.
His relentless physical onslaught gave no quarter. He slipped his tongue across her lips. Then flicked it inside. She stiffened at the unfamiliar intrusion.
Abruptly he lifted his head.
Oh, don’t let him stop. I’ll die if he stops.
“It’s all right,” he crooned, and returned to kissing forehead, cheeks, and chin. Using his hand behind her head to hold her for his depredations.
She moaned and yearned toward him. “Kiss me, Gideon.” Her voice vibrated with longing.
“I forget…” He punctuated his speech with a scatter of kisses. He placed his mark on every inch of her face. Except her lips. Where she wanted him.
“…how innocent…” More kisses.
“…you are.”
The hand she’d placed over his crazily hammering heart slid up to encircle his neck. Her fingers tangled in the hair that brushed his coat’s high collar.
“You surprised me,” she said shakily. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like it.”
More glancing kisses. “What a sweet little wife.”
“You’re tormenting me,” she accused, turning her head to try and catch his lips with hers.
“You’ve tormented me for days. I never thought I’d touch you like this.”
“But you wanted to?” She knew the answer, but still she longed to hear him admit it.
“You’re a fever in my blood,” he said in a raw voice.
His hands shifted down her back, and he lifted her toward him. He parted his lips over hers. More gently than before. This time she was ready for the penetration of his tongue.
One brief foray. Retreat. A more thorough exploration.
Heat exploded behind her eyes. Searing pleasure flowed through her veins. She knew nothing but the scorching possession of his mouth. She gasped and pressed closer, opening her lips wider.
He stroked his hands up and down her back, tracing her spine. Everywhere he touched, he set up another hot whirlpool. Flame licked at her skin. Still, his mouth plundered hers with endless dark delight.
Tentatively, she slid her tongue against his. He made a growling sound of approval, and his hands tightened.
More bravely, she moved her tongue until the kiss was no longer invasion but ecstatic dance.
She made an inarticulate sound and edged closer, sliding awkwardly on the seat. He ripped his mouth from hers. He breathed in great gusts, and his eyes were blacker than ebony. He released a startled laugh and pulled her up against him.