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He didn’t say it aloud—he couldn’t bring himself to part from her. Not until he wrung every last moment of pleasure from her. Not until he drank in every drop of her desire.

She cried out, her hips jolting, her fingers tightening in his hair then releasing again, like a cat kneading her paws.

The pleasure built within her like a crescendo, overwhelming and wonderful, until she shattered completely, crying out his name as her body convulsed around his fingers.

He held her through it, his eyes never leaving her face, drinking in every flicker of ecstasy.

When she finally opened her eyes and looked at him, a playful light danced within her. “Your turn,” she whispered.

Chapter 14

Leila sat up and reached for Gideon, her hands moving over the hard planes of his chest, tracing the sculpted curve of his shoulders and the defined strength of his arms. His skin was warm, slick with a fine sheen of sweat, carrying the heady scent of salt and spice that was uniquely him.

She pressed her lips to the side of his neck, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath her mouth. Kissing her way down the slope of his neck, across his collarbone and chest, she tasted him—his heat, his salt, the essence of him.

When her lips found his nipple, he groaned low in his chest, his hands threading through her hair. The sound was raw and unguarded.

She did this. She reduced him to animalistic groans and instinctive movements.

Mirroring the act on his other side, she savored every twitch of muscle beneath her fingertips and every gasp he couldn’t hold back. Her hands roamed lower, over his ribs and down his sides. His entire body responded to her touch as though it had been waiting for her all along.

When her fingers found the fastenings of his trousers, she glanced up.

He gave a small, silent nod.

She undid them slowly and deliberately, watching frustration build in his eyes.

He didn’t wait long. He helped her push them down, then rose to his feet and stripped off his breeches completely, standing before her bathed in moonlight.

Leila remained on her knees, drinking in the sight of him. She wanted to memorize every inch of him, to learn his body the way he had learned hers.

He stood still—tall and imposing, strength radiating from his body. Yet when he moved, it was with a predator’s grace, silent and sure.

And when he looked at her, his gaze was that of a hunter. Hungry. Lethal. Unyielding.

Like a wolf.

She let her eyes roam over his lean frame, which seemed paler in the silver moonlight, shadows catching on every dip and rise of his body—the flatness of his stomach, the line of dark hair leading downward, the strength of his thighs.

And then there was the evidence of his desire—hard, thick, swollen with need.

She licked her lips.

She’d seen male bodies before, but none of them came close to the perfection that was Gideon. None that called to her like his. None that made her ache to feel, to taste, to claim.

“I want to touch you everywhere,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with awe. “I want to learn what pleases you.”

“Leila.” He breathed her name like a vow, like a surrender.

She leaned forward and kissed his taut belly, then moved lower, her fingertips trailing behind like fire. Each groan rumbling from his chest made her bolder.

He trembled when she wrapped her fingers around him, his shaft burning hot and thick in her palm.

Her lips parted as she licked a slow line from the base to the tip. Her tongue flicked over the bead of moisture at the crown, making him jolt.

She smiled.

His eyes were nearly black with lust, half-lidded, watching her as if he couldn’t believe she was real.