“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured, allowing her to pull him into the living room. He would have propelled her over to the couch immediately, but she released him and paused.
“How about some music?” she asked.
Gideon forced himself to sit—because if he didn’t, he’d make himself a liar and do the seducing himself—watching from the plump leather sectional.
“There’s music through the TV cable,” he told her, doing his best to keep from sounding impatient. “Or you can plug in to my speaker system—I’ve got two streaming services. Anything in particular you’re wanting to hear?”
She tossed him a slow, meaningful smile. “Mood music.”
Mood music. Well, that was a good sign. He raised his feet, resting them, ankles crossed, on the big square ottoman that fit in the middle of the sectional.
She scrolled through the options on his music for what seemed like forever, then finally seemed to settle on something. Then she fiddled with several buttons and knobs—and it was to his credit that he didn’t say anything about her adjusting his wildly complicated speaker system. The music seeped into the room, softly at first, then just loud enough after she found the volume control.
Nirvana? The hard, rough beat of the grunge rock band pulsed into the room, Kurt Cobain’s scratchy but pleasing voice driving from a speaker near Gideon.
If he hoped Fiona would have joined him on the sofa after choosing her mood music, he was bound to be disappointed and frustrated. Instead, as the music forced its way into his being—the bass-line and solid electric guitar permeating his veins in a way not unlike Fiona’s presence—he watched as she moved around the room. She dimmed the lights, leaving only one corner lamp on low, and the rest turned down to a bare burn.
Hebegan to burn, and shifted on the couch. If she was trying to drive him crazy, she was doing an excellent job of it. “Fiona,” he said firmly, resting his arm along the back of the sofa.
“I’m setting the mood for your seduction,” she told him—from safely across the room. “Where can I find some matches?”
Gideon almost groaned aloud, but he managed to respond, “Third drawer in the desk. What do you need matches for?”
“The candles.” She glided out of the room, leaving him a moment to gather his patience.
Only Fiona would take over someone else’s house to set a seduction scene, he thought wryly. It would be worth it, though, his seduction, he thought, resting his head back against the couch and closing his eyes.
The snick of a match striking sandpaper brought his eyes open, and he saw the flare of a wick being lit—she must have taken the candles off the bookcases in the den. Fiona lit three fat white pillars that smelled like vanilla (a gift from Iva) and moved them onto the low square table. Warm, glowing light spilled onto the ottoman next to the couch, setting off the thick curls of her hair in a glowing aura.
She came to stand in front of him, and he remained lounging back against the couch, his arm still resting across the top. Closing his fingers around the leather to keep from reaching for her, Gideon looked up and felt his heart move. She looked so beautiful…earthy yet ethereal at the same time in her scuffed jeans and nimbus of coppery hair.
“Fiona….” This time, it was his voice that shifted roughly, bespeaking his need for her.
“I’m a little nervous,” she confessed, reaching out with two slim white hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever planned a seduction like this before.”
“You’re doing just fine,” he replied, his throat dry. “But I think you should kiss me now.”
She moved forward suddenly, straddling him where he sat on the couch—taking him totally by surprise as her jean-clad thighs embraced him, knees against the back of the sofa…her mouth suddenly pressing into his as her hands slid to cup the corners of his jaw.
“Christ,” he groaned as he went abruptly from famine to feast—just as he had that day she fell into his arms in the closet.
Her mouth demanded from his, fitting boldly to his lips and tearing his breath away. Her weight sank into him—her hands on his shoulders, fingers sliding over the sensitive skin of his neck, and her breasts leaning into his chest. He smoothed his hands down over her back around her rear, pulling her closer, on top of him, imprinting her body onto his.
Fiona pulled away, sitting back on his thighs, her legs bent on the sofa on either side of him, and pushed a hand through her wild hair. He was about to protest between the deep dragging breaths she’d caused when she started to slip the buttons loose from his shirt. He fought the urge to shrug out of the crisp, rough cotton on his own and enjoyed the feel of her hands on his bare skin.
The way she sucked in her breath when she touched the firm planes of his pecs told him she was as appreciative of his curves as he was of hers.
Her fingers smoothed over him, light, then heavy, then gently brushing through the hair that covered his chest. His nerves were singing, and his skin wanted to shift to meet her touch as she explored its texture.
Fiona slid the shirt off his shoulders and he leaned forward to shrug out of it, catching a faceful of thick, musky, coppery hair and the opportunity to taste her neck. She paused as his lips touched the sensitive, silky skin next to her throbbing pulse, tilting her head to one side and catching her breath in an audible sigh of pleasure.
That did it—that small little moan from her ended his restraint, and the next thing either of them knew, they were tumbling off the sofa onto the carpeted floor, lips locked together as somehow their shirts were torn off and her bra unclasped.
Gideon felt the vibration of the steady, driving rock music beneath his knees as he kissed Fiona against the big ottoman, tasting the pair of lips he couldn’t seem to get enough of, kneeling next to her on the floor.
It was an anomaly—the deep, thumping bass chords, the wailing twang of electric guitar, and the scratchy, husky vocals—hard, and fast, and rough…featured in a place where the lights were low and soft and the smell of vanilla gently permeated the room, mingling with the spicy, musky scent of silky Fiona.
The juxtaposition of these two opposites inflamed him, two worlds colliding in his consciousness…and then it all became nothing but a faint awareness as he focused everything on the woman before him.
