And still, he let her guide the rhythm until the careful control inside him fractured.
He lifted his head.
Met her eyes.
And the look he gave her…
It wasn’t lust.
It was everything else.
Need. Fierce. Soul-deep. Raw.
“You’re a fucking masterpiece.”
His voice shook with something sacred. Not because of what he saw, but because of what he felt. For her.
Her breath caught.
Then he was kissing lower.
Slower.
Her ribs. The soft slope of her stomach. Her hips, where his hands found her again. Fingers flexing, thumbs grazing bone like they were sacred. When he glanced up, the look in his eyes knocked the breath from her lungs.
“You’re unreal,” he rasped, voice uneven. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
His hands settled at her hips, fingers splayed wide like he could anchor her there—keep her from slipping away, even if the world burned around them. He kissed his way down her body in a slow descent, mouth dragging over familiar skin with a hunger that said knowing her wasn’t enough. He needed to claim her all over again—inch by inch, breath by breath.
And then, lower.
His mouth found her like he’d been dreaming of it. No hesitation. No finesse. Just heat and hunger and a rhythm so deliberate it made her toes curl. He kissed her like she was a promise, one he’d bleed for. One he didn’t intend to break.
She felt the shape of his grin before she saw it, the way his mouth curved against her thigh, cocky and heart-wrecking.
“Gideon,” she breathed, voice already frayed. “Please…”
Her fingers slid into his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as the world narrowed to heat and anticipation.
His laugh was low and wicked—a dark promise, delivered straight to her skin.
“Since you asked so nicely…”
Then he gave her everything.
His mouth closed over her clit, tongue circling with unrelenting precision—crushing, consuming, controlled. He didn’t rush. Didn’t tease. He devoured her. Lips coaxing, tongue tormenting, his mouth working her like he was hell-bent on memorizing the way she fell apart.
She cried out, hips jerking, thighs trembling, but he held her steady. Let hercome undone. Made her feel every second of it—every flick, every pull, every relentless wave of pleasure until her body locked and shattered in his hands.
But he didn’t stop.
Not right away.
He softened only when she gasped his name again—broken, blissed-out, breathless. His kisses gentled—featherlight along her thighs, her hips—reverent again. Whispering things she couldn’t quite hear through the pulse roaring in her ears.
Only when she sagged back into the mattress, boneless and trembling, did he rise.
Slowly. Deliberately.
