Thousands of years. Together. I can scarcely fathom it.
How old are you, by the way?I finally ask. I know he’s well over six hundred years old, since that’s how long he’s served in the Winter Court army, but I don’t know his exact age.
I am two thousand one hundred and six years old, he replies.What about you, little moth? How old are you?
Nineteen, I whisper through the bond, shocked by the vast age difference between us, and I sense he’s a little bit shocked as well.
Tears burn in my eyes, and my throat tightens with emotion. Tenderness for Gideon swells within me, mingling with a sense of overwhelming shock.
We’ve known one another for such a short time, yet in some ways it feels like a lifetime has already passed between us.
In some ways, I feel like I might even know him better than I know myself.
Most of all, I trust him.
I’m no longer afraid of him.
He can be a vicious Winter lord at times, yes, but he’smyvicious Winter lord.
At last, he presses his lips to mine, and I lose myself in the sweetest kiss that ever was. He’s achingly gentle at first, but I sense his restraint, and that lends a delicious tension to what we’re doing. He’s eager to claim me, nearly ravenous past the point of reason, but he doesn’t want to frighten me with his savagery. So, he’s trying to be gentle, even considerate, but I sense it’s a battle he’s close to losing.
My fingers curl around his tunic, and the throbbing between my legs becomes more intense. I whimper into his mouth, and he tightens his hold on me and growls.
Another wave of warmth pulsates in my nether area, and I find myself struggling to breathe through my nose as Gideon finally deepens the kiss. His fingers thread into my hair, tightening, and he presses his cock more firmly to my stomach.
But he withdraws from the kiss just as I truly begin to feel faint. He cups my face and stares down at me with a darkly triumphant look that steals my breath. Before I can speak, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me toward the makeshift bed he’s created on the floor, the soft mound of furs we have been sharing each night, since the bed in the cabin is too small for us both.
He lays me down on the furs, a reverent gleam in his eyes as his gaze slowly moves over me. I shiver with need, aching for his touch. We haven’t been intimate since the night he brought me to pleasure with his mouth, and that was nearly a week ago. We’ve done some kissing and hugging since then, and I’ve slept wrapped in his arms every night, but we haven’t gone any further than that.
Sitting beside me, he lets his hand drift down my body in a leisurely manner, briefly caressing my breasts before glidingover my center, his touch teasing even through my clothes. I quiver in place, watching him carefully, eager for guidance even though he has never done this either. I am still having a difficult time wrapping my mind around that fact, yet I trust that he will know how to proceed. I trust that he will follow his instincts and claim me properly, thoroughly, until we’re both gratified beyond measure, panting breathlessly in one another’s arms.
When his eyes flash with a hint of carnal darkness, I know he has just read my thoughts. I flush, though I’m not truly embarrassed. But I suppose I’m a little nervous.
I will take care of you, little moth, he sends down the bond, his voice a comforting echo in my head.
I know, I tell him.I trust you.
He reaches for my woolen socks, pulling them off slowly, and sets them aside. Then his hands glide up my legs, past my knees, up my thighs, and beneath my dress. When the very tips of his chilled fingers brush along the seam of my pussy, I suck in a sharp breath and my center jolts upward.
“No undergarments,” he says in a chiding tone. “How scandalous of you, Isabel.”
My face heats, and the warmth undulating in my core grows stronger. More urgent. Every time he grazes his fingers over my slit, my hips lift of their own accord.
I reach for Gideon, caressing his chest through the tunic that’s tucked into his trousers. With no plans to go outside today, he dressed casually. Though I think he is utterly handsome when he wears his black leather pants and shirt, in a lethal sort of way, there is something special about seeing him dressed so informally. I doubt many others have ever seen him like this.
A seductive, teasing smile plays across his lips, and he catches my hand, gently pushing it aside. I am just about to scowl at him when he suddenly untucks his tunic and pulls it off, revealing his dark, glimmering, sculpted chest.
My heart flutters, and for several moments, I forget how to breathe. Gods, he is stunning. I think he is masculine perfection, and I have not even seen him fully naked yet.
“Patience, little moth, patience,” he murmurs.
He reaches between my thighs and resumes teasing my aching core with the whisper of a touch.
I feel on the verge of begging, but I resist, trying to shove the thought into the back of my mind so I might hide it before he can sense it. But the sudden flash of pleasure in his eyes reveals he is fully aware of my predicament. He realizes just how achy I am becoming, how desperate I am to feel his fingers gliding inside me.
He leans down to kiss me, and as he presses his lips to mine, he pushes my dress up to my waist and higher still. Breaking the kiss, he helps me sit up just long enough to finish removing the garment, and for the first time ever, he sees me completely naked. That time he brought me to a release with his mouth, I kept my nightdress on.
He sits back for a moment and simply looks at me, his eyes dark and heated, his nostrils slightly flared, every line of his body taut with restraint.
