He was too far gone—wrapped in her, ruled by her, undone in ways he hadn’t seen coming.
His breath came hard against her chest, uneven and rough, each exhale betraying the war burning inside him. He was strength, stone and steel, but in that moment, he held her like something precious.
That contrast hit her in the ribs, sharp and sudden.
Beautiful.
And a little feral.
Her thighs drew tighter around his hips, instinct answering instinct.
His groan rumbled low in his chest, swallowed into her mouth, and she felt it everywhere.
She was all heat and danger—soft where it counted, sharp where it didn’t—and he wanted every inch of her.
And he wanted more.
His lips trailed from her mouth to the line of her jaw, then down her neck, fire over her pulse.
And Arden let him.
Let him savor. Let him breathe her in like she was something rare.
Something he didn’t deserve.
But wasn’t letting go.
She thought about speaking—saying something sharp, something to remind herself this was dangerous.
But she couldn’t.
Because Gideon was between her legs.
And every inch of him said,you’re mine.
Instead, she tilted her head, giving him more.
A surrender.
A dare.
And Gideon took it.
His hands slid higher, slow and deliberate—like this wasn’t just a kiss.
Like it was something holy.
A reckoning.
Neither of them moved to stop it.
The air between them crackled—charged, molten, alive.
Her body curved into his like it belonged there.
And maybe it did.
Her fingers slid into his hair, not to pull him away, but to anchor herself.
