I haven’t had an orgasm like that… ever. 

Ever.

And Gideon awards me with three more before we leave the bed and he leads me into a bathroom that seems impossibly large for a plane, any plane, but he’s casual about it, nonchalant.

I’m a whole new woman.

It’s like all the stress of the years since Abby’s accident—our accident—was waiting to be released by Gideon’s fingers, and the more he played with me, strumming me like an expert musician, the less I could continue holding it captive in my mind, keep it wrapped around me like a blanket I’d been anxiously clutching for dear life for eight long years.

So when I step naked under the hot stream of the shower, my legs are like Jell-O. My skin is already flushed. And I want to repay the favor.

Gideon follows me into the enclosure, and my jaw drops.

I don’t know how it is that he’s given me three earth-shattering orgasms without taking his own clothes off, but after the first one, I could no longer think straight. I gave myself over to him, all of me subsumed in the sheer pleasure of it. I did whatever he said, and it all came so naturally, so easily, that there was no reason for me to stop to ask him to take his shirt off.

But now that it is, I know I’ll be asking for him to do it more often. 

Gideon is stunning.

“Oh, my God.” I finally get the words to squeak out of my mouth, and he responds to my reaction by laughing at me, his abs contracting, their chiseled lines becoming even more prominent. “Why didn’t you say something?”

He steps under the water with me, raising two sculpted arms to run his hands through his dark hair. “It’s not the most effective pick-up line. ‘I see you’re a gorgeous woman. I have a killer body. We should get together.’”

I laugh in response, and for once it comes as easily, as naturally, as Gideon’s. But even as I’m laughing at his joke, I’m still completely serious about staring at his body. I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s that impressive. I don’t know what kind of workout he does—maybe it’s that cliff-diving takes all that muscle—but every inch of him is packed tight with lean muscle, sinuous and sexy. He’s not bulked up like some of the men I’ve seen pumping iron at the gym, but now it makes sense that he was able to hold me with one hand while making me orgasm with the other. He exudes pure, animal strength.

And though he hasn’t said a word about it, there’s something else that’s remarkable about him, too.

Gideon Hawke has a perfect cock.

It’s no exaggeration, and I blush even thinking the thought, but it’s true. He’s hard—which is no surprise, given what we’ve been doing in that bedroom—and the size is...

I can’t even think about it. I can’t stop to think about it, or else I might lose my nerve.

He finishes wetting his hair and then opens his brilliant eyes. “It’s true.”

“What’s true?”

“You are absolutely gorgeous.” Then he looks away, his languid gaze traveling down the length of me, and instead of feeling shy—the exact way I might have felt two hours ago, before our little interlude—I feel like a goddess. The smile fades from his face, and it’s replaced by an expression that’s pure need, coupled with appreciation, and it reminds me of someone who’s looking at a priceless work of art.

He closes the gap between us, one hand sliding onto the slickened skin of my hip, the other reaching to cup one of my breasts, his thumb tracking to my nipple, calling it to attention with some gentle pressure, rubbing it in gentle circles. The pleasure arcs from his thumb in a straight course, ending in a nearly painful jolt between my legs, but I’ve had a turn—three of them, in fact—and I can’t leave him hanging. I refuse to leave him hanging.

I cover his hand with both of mine before I let myself slip under his attentions again, forcing myself to open my eyes. “Wait,” I gush.

He leans in and kisses my neck. “For what?”

“You’ll see.”

Carefully, with my hand still folded firmly in his to steady myself, I sink down to my knees onto the shower floor. His hand instinctively moves to my neck, to the side of my face, and I look up past the stream of water to watch the expressions on his face. His mouth is half-open, and his eyes are narrowed, his pupils dark. “Kennedy—” he murmurs.

“It’s your turn,” I tell him in the same firm tone that I’d use with an unruly assistant, as I reach for him with both hands.

At my touch, his cock twitches. He’s that hard, that ready, and I can’t bring myself to tease him, can’t bring myself to draw this out. I take a deep breath, open my mouth, and then swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, his clean taste dizzyingly satisfying on my tongue.

It’s been a long time since I could bring myself to do anything like this with a man, but I follow my instincts, adding pressure, sucking him in, working my tongue over his shaft. Gideon groans, deep and low, and he threads his fingers through my hair. He can’t help himself. He pulls me closer, and now I do tease him a little, pulling back, pressing forward, taking him in inch by thick inch until it’s clear I’m going to have to go big or go home.

He’s trembling now, his legs planted firmly against the floor of the shower, and then his cock hits the back of my throat.

I would never do this with another man—and I never have—but with Gideon, it feels right. There’s no question in my mind that I’m going to give him absolutely everything I have to give.

I take him all in.

I take every inch, working to relax, and finally he loses control, hands clenching in my hair, hips bucking forward. I plant my fingers roughly into his firm, muscular ass and hold him tight as he tenses, coming hard, his low groan vibrating through his entire body. His motions are so intense, so hot, that I meet him with a moan of my own.

I hold him close until he’s spent.

It takes him a few moments to recover, and then he reaches down for my hands, pulling me up to my feet. As soon as I’m standing, his lips are lodged possessively, passionately on mine, and I’m completely lost in him until he pulls back, biting his lip. “That was—” He shakes his head, unable to find the words to finish his thought, and I flush with another wave of heat. “We’re even, okay? We’re even.”

I laugh, an aftershock of pleasure running through me. “I think we might run out of hot water.”

Twenty minutes later, we emerge from the bedroom. I’m wearing the softest, most luxurious yoga pants, a tank top, and a matching hoodie, lightweight but comfortable. My bra and panties were hand-selected by Gideon, who opened one of the wardrobes on the plane with a grin. Still buzzing from the shower, I’d given him a huge smile. “I take it we’re going somewhere tropical?”

“You guessed right.”

“But where?”

He wouldn’t tell me. Back in our seats, I press him again. “Tell me. Where are we going?”

Gideon gives me a wicked grin and signals to the flight attendant, who starts making her way toward us with a rolling tray heaped with covered dishes. “Wait and see.”