Still, as much fun as I had just being lazy with Gideon, the anticipation started to make me twitchy as the hours passed. And Gideon, the devious man, knew it. He built on it. He kept my wineglass full and his hands on me—tangled in my hair, brushing over my shoulder, running along my thigh.

By nine o’clock, I was crawling all over him. I slid into his lap and pressed my lips to his throat, my tongue darting out to stroke over his pulse. I felt it leap, then accelerate, but he made no move in response. He sat as if absorbed in the rerun we’d channel-surfed to after the movie ended.

“Gideon?” I whispered in my f**k-me voice, my hand sliding between his legs to find him as hard and ready as always.

“Hmm?”

I caught the lobe of his ear in my teeth, tugging gently. “Would you mind if I f**ked myself on your big c**k while you’re watching TV?”

His hand rubbed absently down my back. “I might not be able to see around you,” he replied, sounding distracted. “Maybe you better get on your knees and suck it instead.”

Pulling back, I gaped at him. His eyes laughed at me.

I shoved at his shoulder. “You’re terrible!”

“My poor angel,” he crooned. “Are you horny?”

“What do you think?” I gestured at my chest. My ni**les were hard and tight, straining against the thin cotton in a silent demand for his attention.

Cupping my shoulders, he pulled me closer and caught the tip of my breast in his teeth, his tongue stroking softly. I moaned.

He released me, his eyes now so dark they were like sapphires. “Are you wet?”

I was getting there, fast. Whenever Gideon looked at me like that, my body softened for him, grew moist and eager. “Why don’t you find out?” I teased.

“Show me.”

The authoritative bite in his command made me hotter. I slid off him carefully, feeling inexplicably shy. He pushed the coffee table back with one foot, giving me more room to stand in front of him. His gaze slid over me, his face expressionless. The lack of encouragement made me even more anxious, which I guessed was his intention.

He was pushing in that way he had.

Rolling my shoulders back, I caught his gaze with my own and ran my tongue along my bottom lip. His eyes became heavy-lidded. I slid my thumbs beneath the elastic waistband of my athletic shorts and pushed them down, wriggling my h*ps a little to make it look more like a striptease and less like I was feeling awkward.

“No panties,” he murmured, his gaze on my sex. “You’re a bad girl, angel.”

I pouted. “I’m trying to be good.”

“Open yourself for me,” he murmured. “Let me see you.”

“Gideon . . .”

He waited patiently and I knew that patience would hold. Whether it took me five minutes or five hours, he would wait for me. And that was why I trusted him. Because it was never a question of whether I would submit, but when I was ready to, and that was a decision he most often left to me.

I widened my stance and tried to slow the quickness of my breathing. Reaching down with both hands, I touched the lips of my sex and spread them, exposing my cl*t to the man it ached for.

Gideon straightened slowly. “You have such a pretty cunt, Eva.”

As he leaned closer, I held my breath. His hands lifted from his thighs, reaching for mine to hold me steady. “Don’t move,” he ordered.

Then he licked me in a leisurely glide.

“Oh God,” I moaned, my legs shaking.

“Sit down,” he said hoarsely, sliding to his knees on the floor as I obeyed.

The glass was cool against my bare bu**ocks, a sharp contrast to the heat of my skin. My arms stretched back, gripping the far edge of the table for balance as he pressed my thighs wide with his palms, splaying me open.

His breath was hot against my damp flesh, his focus fully on my sex. “You could be wetter.”

I watched, panting, as he lowered his head and wrapped his lips around my clit. The heat was searing, the lash of his tongue devastating. I cried out, wanting to writhe but held fast by his grip. My head fell back, my ears ringing with the rush of blood and the sound of Gideon’s groan. His tongue fluttered over the tight bundle of nerves, driving me relentlessly toward orgasm. My stomach tightened as the pleasure built, the soft silk of his hair brushing along my sensitive inner thighs.

A low moan escaped me. “I’m going to come,” I gasped. “Gideon . . . God . . . I’m going to come.”

He drove his tongue inside me. My elbows weakened, dropping me lower. His tongue f**ked into the clutching opening of my sex, stroking through the sensitive tissues, teasing me with a promise of the penetration I truly craved.

“Fuck me,” I begged.

Gideon pulled back, licking his lips. “Not here.”

I made a sound of protest as he stood, so close to orgasm I could taste it. He held his hand out to me, helped me straighten and then stand. When I wobbled, he caught me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

“Gideon!”

But then his hand was between my legs, massaging my wet, swollen sex, and I didn’t care how he carried me, as long as he got me someplace where he’d take me.

We reached the hallway and turned, then stopped too quickly to have reached his bedroom. I heard the doorknob turn and then the light flicked on.

We were in the bedroom that was mine. He set me down on my feet, facing him.

“Why here?” I asked. Maybe some men would head to the nearest bed, but Gideon had more control than that. If he wanted me in the second bedroom, he had a reason for it.