Her mouth trembled. If he hadn’t watched so closely, he’d have missed the tiny tensing of her lips. It was the reaction of someone braced for the killing blow, for pain past endurance.
He knew that feeling. Just so had he faced down his jailers in Rangapindhi.
That hint of vulnerability broke him.
Three strides, and he was at her side. He swung her high in his arms. Blood thundered in his ears. Two more strides, and he reached the bed. Without letting her go, he pushed her back onto the crumpled sheets.
Gideon was pure animal. Savage. Hungry. Desperate.
He knelt between her legs, his cock straining. Roughly, he brushed away the thick dark blond hair cascading across her bare breasts. The demons shrieked for him to stop, but roaring physical need trapped them behind a wall of glass.
He grabbed her hips with his gloved hands and pressed hard, openmouthed kisses across the white plain of her belly. She tasted like hot musky honey.
He suckled on her nipple, pressing it against his tongue, drawing the flavor deep into his mouth. She cried out and bucked.
He didn’t linger. This moment poised on a knife edge. His lips closed on her other nipple, biting until she writhed. She lifted her hands to his shoulders.
Dear God, if she pushed him away, what would he do?
But her fingers dug into his damp shirt, clenching and unclenching in time with the rhythm of his mouth on her breast.
He ripped his trousers open. The pounding in his head was so loud, he hardly heard the material shredding.
With ruthless hands, he angled her hips up and plunged into her.
Heat.
Pressure.
One fragile, glowing moment that might have been peace.
Stray details overwhelmed starved senses. Her scent. The soft rattle of her breathing. The way she quivered under him.
He rose to look at her. Her eyes were closed, and her face was stark with tension. Damn it, he must be hurting her. Principle insisted he stop, withdraw, leave her be.
He began to pull out. Meaning to end this travesty. But the sensation of his tumescent flesh sliding free of her sleek passage nearly blew the top of his head off. Pleasure so intense it edged on pain incinerated him in a white-hot blast.
His scruples dissolved to ash. His heart tolled a despairing note as he thrust back inside her. Hard. Demanding. Pitiless.
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She closed around him with what felt like welcome. This time he paused, luxuriating in the tightness. He shifted. Edged deeper.
Charis moaned, a low, guttural sound that resonated in his gut. The hands on his shoulders slid down to curl around his straining back. She tilted her hips higher.
Her eyes opened. The pupils were dilated, and the irises were rich gold. The skin on her face stretched tight. She tipped her head back, her thick lashes fluttered down, and she arched with a long, low, keening sound.
What frail restraints he’d imposed snapped. There was just the hot clasp of her body and his thundering need.
He changed the angle of penetration. Her body moved with him. He withdrew and thrust again. He needed the rhythm more than he needed breath.
Faster.
Harder.
The endless rocking of his hips against hers. The slide of his flesh into her slender body. The creak of the bed. The rustle of the sheets. The catch of her breath.
His body tensed. The pace became wilder.