Entwined with You

“Say it,” I coaxed, needing the words he swore were inadequate.



He pushed up and looked down at me, gently brushing my hair back from my forehead. He swallowed hard.



Rearing, I caught his beautifully etched mouth in a kiss. “I’ll say it first: I love you.”



He closed his eyes and quivered. Wrapping his arms around me, Gideon squeezed so tight I almost couldn’t breathe.



“I love you,” he whispered. “Too much.”



His fervent declaration reverberated through me. I buried my face in his shoulder and cried.



“Angel.” His fist clenched in my hair.



Lifting my head, I took his mouth, our kiss flavored with the salt of my tears. My lips moved desperately over his, as if he’d be gone at any second and I had no time to get my fill of him.



“Eva. Let me …” He cupped my face, licking deep into my mouth. “Let me love you.”



“Please,” I whispered, my fingers linking behind his neck to capture him. His erection lay hot and heavy against the lips of my sex, the weight of him the perfect pressure on my throbbing clit. “Don’t stop.”



“Never. I can’t.”



His hand cupped my buttock, lifting me into a deft roll of his hips. I gasped as the pleasure radiated through me, my nipples beading hard and tight against his chest. The light dusting of crisp hair was an unbearable stimulation. My core ached, begging for the hard-driving thrust of his cock.



My nails raked his back from shoulder to hips. He arched into the rough caress with a low growl, his head thrown back in deliciously erotic abandon.



“Again,” he ordered gruffly, his face flushed and lips parted.



Surging upward, I sank my teeth into his pectoral, just over his heart. Gideon hissed, quivering, and took it.



I couldn’t contain the ferocious swell of emotion that needed release—the love and need, the anger and fear. And the pain. God, the pain. I still felt it keenly. I wanted to tear into him. To punish as well as pleasure. To make him experience some small measure of what I had when he’d pushed me away.



My tongue stroked over the slight indentations left by my teeth and his hips rocked into me, his cock sliding through the parted lips of my sex.



“My turn,” he whispered darkly. Leaning on one arm, the biceps thick and beautifully defined, he squeezed my breast in his other hand. His head lowered and his lips surrounded the taut point of my nipple. His mouth was scorching hot, his tongue a rough velvet lash against my tender flesh. When his teeth bit into the furled tip, I cried out, my body jerking as sharp need arrowed to my core.



I clutched at his hair, too impassioned to be gentle. My legs wrapped around him, tightening, echoing my need to claim him. Possess him. Make him mine again.



“Gideon,” I moaned. My temples were wet from the trails of my tears, my throat tight and hurting.



“I’m here, angel,” he breathed, nibbling across my cleavage to my other breast. His diabolical fingers tugged at the wet nipple he’d left behind, pinching it gently until I pushed up and into his hand. “Don’t fight me. Let me love you.”



I realized then that I was pulling at his hair, trying to urge him away even as I fought to get closer. Gideon had me under siege, seducing me with his stunning male perfection and intimate expertise with my body. And I was surrendering. My breasts were heavy, my sex wet and swollen. My hands roamed restlessly as my legs caged him.



Still, he slipped farther away from me, his mouth whispering temptation across my stomach. Missed you so much … need you … have to have you … I felt a hot wetness slide over my skin and looked down to see that he was crying, too, his gorgeous face ravaged by the same surfeit of emotion flooding me.



With shaking fingers, I touched his cheek, trying to smooth away the wetness that only returned the instant it was wiped away. He nuzzled into my touch with a soft, plaintive moan, and I couldn’t bear it. His pain was harder for me to deal with than my own.



“I love you,” I told him.



“Eva.” He slid back onto his knees and rose, his thighs spread between mine, his cock thick and hard and bobbing under its weight.



Everything in me tightened with ravenous greed. His big body was carved with rock-hard slabs of tautly defined muscle, his tanned skin sheened with perspiration. He was so powerfully elegant, except for his penis, which was bluntly primal with its thick coursing veins and wide root. His sac, too, hung large and heavy. He would make a statue as beautiful as Michelangelo’s David, but with a flagrantly erotic edge.



Honestly, Gideon Cross had been designed to fuck a woman right out of her mind.



“Mine,” I said harshly, pushing up and scrambling gracelessly into him, pressing my torso tightly into his. “You’re mine.”



“Angel.” He took my mouth in a rough, lust-fueled kiss. Lifting me, he moved, turning us so that his back was to the headboard and I was spread over him. Our flesh slid against each other, slickened by sweat.



His hands were everywhere, his muscled body straining upward as mine had done. I cupped his face, licking fast into his mouth, trying to satisfy my thirst for him.



He reached between my legs, his fingers delving reverently into my cleft. The roughened pads stroked over my clit and skirted the trembling opening to my sex. With my lips pressed to his, I moaned, my hips circling. He fingered me leisurely, building my need, his kiss gentling into a slow, deep fucking of my mouth.



I couldn’t breathe for the pleasure, my entire body quivering as he cupped me in his hand and his long middle finger slid lazily into me. His palm rubbed against my clit, his fingertip stroking over delicate tissues. His other hand gripped my hip, holding me in place, restraining me.



Gideon’s control seemed absolute, his seduction wickedly precise, but he was trembling harder than I was and his chest was heaving more forcefully. The sounds spilling from him were tinged with remorse and entreaty.



Pulling back, I reached for his cock with both hands, gripping him firmly. I knew his body well, too, knew what he needed and desired. I pumped him from root to tip, drawing a thick bead of pre-ejaculate to the wide crest. He pushed back against the headboard with a groan, his finger curving inside me. I watched, riveted, as the thick drop rolled to one side of his glans, then slid down the length of him to pool at the top of my fist.



“Don’t,” he panted. “Too close.”



I stroked him again, my mouth watering as a gush of pre-cum streamed out of him. I was wildly aroused by his pleasure and the knowledge that I had such a profound effect on such a blatantly sexual creature.



As he cursed, his fingers left me. He grabbed my hips, dislodging my grip on him. He yanked me forward, then down, his hips bucking upward, his raging cock driving into me.



I cried out and gripped his shoulders, my sex clenching against the thick penetration.



“Eva.” His jaw and neck taut with strain, he started coming, spurting hot and hard inside me.



The gush of lubrication opened me, my sex sliding down his pulsing erection until he filled me too full. My nails dug into his unyielding muscles, my mouth opened to draw in desperate breaths of air.



“Take it,” he bit out, angling my descent to gain that last little part of me that let him to sink in to the root. “Take me.”



I moaned, welcoming the familiar soreness of having him so deep. The orgasm took me by surprise, my back bowing as the heated pleasure tore through me.



Instinct took over, my hips moving of their own volition, my thighs clenching and releasing as I focused only on the moment, the reclaiming of my man. My heart.



Gideon yielded to my demands.



“That’s it, angel,” he encouraged hoarsely, his erection still as hard as if he hadn’t just had a teeth-grinding climax.



His arms fell to his sides. His hands fisted in the comforter. His biceps clenched and flexed with his movements. His abs tightened every time I took him to the hilt, the rigid lacing of muscles glistening with sweat. His body was a well-oiled machine and I was taking it to its limits.



He let me. Gave himself to me.



Undulating my hips, I took my pleasure, moaning his name. My core clenched rhythmically, another orgasm rushing up too quickly. I faltered, my senses overwhelmed.



“Please,” I gasped. “Gideon, please.”



He caught me by the nape and waist, and slid down until we were flat on the bed. Pinning me tightly, he held me immobile, thrusting upward … over and over … shafting my sex with fast, powerful lunges. The friction of his thick penis rubbing and surging was too much. I jolted violently and came again, my fingers clawing into his sides.



Shuddering, Gideon followed me over, his arms tightening until I could barely breathe. His harsh exhalations were the air that filled my burning lungs. I was utterly possessed, completely defenseless.



“God, Eva.” He buried his face in my throat. “Need you. I need you so much.”



“Baby.” I held him close. Still afraid to let go.



BLINKING up at the ceiling, I realized I’d fallen asleep. Then the panic hit, the horrible inevitability of waking from a blissful dream into a nightmare reality. I surged up, gulping air into a chest that was too tight.



Gideon.



I nearly sobbed when I found him sprawled next to me, his lips barely parted with his deep, even breathing. The lover my heart had broken for, returned to me.



God …



Sinking back against the headboard, I forced myself to relax, to savor the rare pleasure of watching him sleep. His face was transformed when he was unguarded, reminding me of how young he really was. That was easy to forget when he was awake and radiating the powerful force of will that had literally knocked me on my ass when I’d first met him.



With reverent fingers, I brushed the inky strands of hair away from his cheek, noting the new lines around his eyes and mouth. I’d also noted that he’d grown leaner. Our separation had taken a toll on him, but he’d hidden it so well. Or maybe I viewed him as flawless and inviolate.



I hadn’t been able to hide my devastation at all. I’d believed we were over and it showed to everyone who’d looked at me, which Gideon had counted on all along. Plausible deniability, he’d called it. I called it hell, and until we could stop pretending we’d broken up, I’d still be living in it.