Grasping her wrists, one in each hand, he drew them up over her head, pulling her to her knees, pushing her so that she splayed on the top of the ottoman. He transferred one wrist to his left hand—holding her loosely, so she could tug free if she wanted—freeing him to slide an open palm down her arm, to her torso, and around to hold a perfect breast. He bent to kiss the tight, tempting nipple, reveling in the shudder that coursed through her under his mouth.
Gideon pulled back to look down at her—at the scene before him. His mouth felt cottony, and the beating of his heart leapt out of sync then back into rhythm, faster now, faster than he could remember feeling it before.
She looked like a magnificent goddess—sprawled back on the ottoman—torso bared and golden in the flickering candle light, long fluid arms raised over her head, held there by his taut, dark fingers. Her hair fanned over the beige suede leather furniture, cinnamon-colored spirals cast over his arm, her hands, her face, her shoulders. Her skin glistened like a honey-colored pearl under the burning lights, the faintest smattering of freckles over her shoulders and arms. She looked up at him, lips parted, moist from his own mouth, eyes dazed and half-closed.
He worshipped her—touching, kissing, licking, sucking—feeling her writhe and sigh beneath him. It would only get better, he thought, his head pounding. With a flick of his wrist, he freed her belt from its buckle and yanked her jeans open, still one-handed, still keeping her gently imprisoned there before him.
She was wet and hot and very vocal when he slipped his fingers into her. Gideon had to close his eyes at the wave of need that sliced through him, struggling to keep from losing his weakening control.
She jerked once at the sudden onslaught, then her eyes slid closed and an erotic smile curved her lips as she drew in a long, deep, solid breath, her white neck tensing with pleasure. Then, when he brought her over the edge—easily—she opened her mouth in one soft, puffy sigh, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she shuddered, shifting and arching against him.
Fiona was lost in a haze of sensation—trapped in a place she had no desire to escape. She opened her eyes when her wrists were released, and she looked up into Gideon’s burning gaze. He stared down at her, his face immobile, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, as he worked the rest of his clothes off, slicked on a condom…then, before she even had the chance—or desire—to move, he recaptured her wrists, one in each hand, splaying them outstretched over the ottoman, and slipped inside her.
The pleasure was so intense, Fiona cried aloud, and he stopped suddenly to look down at her, his eyes focusing on her with instant clarity.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice thick, lifting her head to kiss him. He met her lips, quickly and savagely, then began to move firmly and steadily, then hard enough that the smack of their bodies could be heard over Cobain’s raspy voice. He released her arms in order to slam her hips into him one last time, then held her there just in time, just as he found what he was looking for. What he needed.
Intense pleasure rolled through him as she gave the soft cry of her own erotic peak, shuddering against his trembling body.
Before Fiona had begun to return to herself, Gideon slipped his arms around her, hugging her against his solid, lightly furred chest, and shifted to one side, rolling onto his back on the floor.
The vibrations of the music were more pronounced now, thumping up through him and into her body, which was, itself, still singing from pleasure. She let her weight collapse onto him, felt his arms hold her close, then the adjustment as he reached up and pulled something off the couch to cover her naked back.
His hands, fingers widespread, smoothed up to her shoulders, then down, down her spine, over her rear, and back up. She noticed his breathing slowing and his heart, against her ear, calming. The thick hair on his chest tickled her nose, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was boneless.
“Fiona,” he said in her ear a long while later. It must have been alongwhile, for Nirvana had long since ended and silence reigned but for their easy breaths. “Why did we wait so long to do that?”
“Because sex complicates things,” she murmured, for the moment not caring that it was true. “Even mind-boggling stuff like that.”
“Mind-boggling?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m glad you thought so too.”
“Are you saying that wasn’t bad for a first-time seduction?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” He kissed the top of her head and gently moved her aside, helping her to sit up and lean against the side of the sofa. “Can I get you something?” He reached to touch her, sliding a hand along her jaw, his mouth firming as he looked at her. “You are incredibly sexy and beautiful, Fiona. I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”
She felt a tear sting in her eye. He was sincere, so heartbreakingly handsome, at that moment, and her lungs swelled to fill her chest. “It won’t be.” And, petrified though she was, she meant it.
Eleven
Gideon pushed openthedoor to Nath, Nath & Powell, feeling unusually empty-handed without his laptop and briefcase—which he’d left at the office in his haste the day before. He stepped into the reception area just as Claire appeared from the back, and Helene Montgomery, the receptionist, looked up from her desk.
“Is everything all right?” asked Helene, her eyes concerned.
Gideon frowned, pausing in his route toward the hall leading to his office, just as Gideon Senior came barreling from the back, moving much faster than his grandson had seen him move in years. “Gideon! What happened? Is everything all right? I just saw you pull into your parking place.”
“Yes, everything is fine. Why do you ask?” He looked at the others—Helene, who still looked concerned, Claire, who looked extremely wide-eyed and innocent, and his grandfather, who seemed to be fighting a grin.
“It’s nine-thirty—we were worried about you.”
“I know what time it is,” Gideon replied, suddenly feeling the weight of their stares.
“But you’re over two hours late,” his grandfather continued, rubbing his hands together as if pleased about something.
“Two hours late? The office opens at nine. I didn’t have anything going on—what’s the problem?” He began to edge toward the hall, suddenly desperate to escape to his office.
“You’re always the first one here,” Helene said earnestly. “Seven o’clock, sure as the sun rises, you’re here. We were afraid something had happened to you!”
Gideon began to feel even more uncomfortable. “I decide to come in late one day and you automatically assume something’s wrong?”
