her skin wrinkled. The bath felt glorious.
She sat at the counter and brushed her damp hair. She wore one of Gideon’s silk
dressing gowns, his spicy scent wrapping her in calm serenity.
She turned her head and
gasped. Gideon leaned against the doorframe wearing nothing but black trousers,
the buttons undone with part of his erection exposed. A decided thrill thrummed
through her body. How long had he been standing there watching?
He padded up behind her,
reached for the brush and gently ran it through her long, flowing locks. She
leaned her head back against his solid, muscular chest. Kitten-like mews of
satisfaction left her throat with each glide.
“Your hair is a crowning
glory. God, how I want it draped across my thighs as you—”
She glanced at him in
the mirror’s reflection. “As I what?”
“Suck my cock. Make me
come. Swallow every bit of me.” He laughed at seeing her eyes go wide in the
mirror. “It appears I am as rumor states—quite decadent and insatiable. Fathomless depths of stamina. But know this, only for you, Liv , and you alone.”
A lump formed in her
throat. His words. He had given her everything without question. His heart, his soul, his trust
and love, and yet, she had doubted him. Pain laced
through her.
“Gideon, please try to
understand. It is not so much that I didn’t trust you. I did not trust my own
feelings. I eventually accepted the explanation that you tossed me aside
because isn’t that what men do? At least, the ones I allow myself to love. Yes,
I lumped you in with my miserable father, and I was
wrong to do so. I accepted the blow of your supposed rejection so I could move
on. I am beginning to doubt I will ever be able to love with my whole heart.
Can I ever trust a man not to hurt me again?” She paused. Gideon had stopped brushing
her hair and stared at her through the mirror. His gaze intense, his lips
thinned as he waited for her to continue. “If there is any man I wish to love
and trust with my entire being it is you, Gideon. The hole in my heart left by
my father will mend. You will be the healer.”
Gideon laid the brush on
the counter and rested his hands on her shoulders.
“Love, my father is not
much better. The cold, indifferent Lord Craven you met that night at The Riding
Crop was molded in ice by the man himself. I knew no other way. I did not feel
a fucking thing until you. He married my mother for position—not love . I’ll be damned if I will live my life like that. I
hardly remember my mother, but she was a sad, despondent, but lovely creature.
She died when I was seven. I knew nothing of love—until you.”
Olivia reached up and
clasped his hand. “We truly are broken, are we not?”
He leaned down and
kissed the top of her head. “Not anymore.”
Olivia stood, took
Gideon’s hand and led him out into the bedroom. She pulled down his trousers
until they hit the floor. He kicked them aside. Good God, his body was a feast
for the eyes.
“Lie down and I will do
as you wish. Spread my hair across your thighs, suck your cock...”
He pulled her tight
against him and kissed her intensely, cutting off the rest of her sentence. She
tasted hunger in his kiss, desire, lust, and love. Everything she felt as well.
Her hands tunneled through his thick, layered hair. She fisted a handful and
pulled him in for an even deeper kiss. A low, husky rumble left the corner of
his mouth. Gideon awakened such emotions in her. Not only emotions, but dark
desires. Scenarios had been playing in her mind, usually at night in her
dreams. She and Gideon in a box at the theater, with him on his knees licking her quim while the performance continued below on the
stage. Another scene had them in a park, people passing by, she leaned against
a hedge, her back skirts raised discreetly, while Gideon fucked her from
behind, hidden by the foliage, only his cock poking through the leaves as he
pounded her as if he were a forest satyr.
It seemed she had an
exhibitionist