Page 27 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

H e pressed his full, warm lips to hers, and Leila couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her mouth. It felt as if it had come from deep within her soul.

His fingers plunged into her hair, his large palm cradling her head, angling her to grant him better access to her mouth. She parted her lips, bathing in the glorious sensation of his tongue exploring, tickling, and teasing her.

This kiss was unlike any she had experienced. It was hot, dark, passionate, firm, searching, teasing, and demanding all at once. She raised her arms and clutched at his shoulders, afraid she might dissolve because she could not feel her body. She could only feel the parts he was touching, kissing.

The rest of the world seemed to disappear. She might as well have been in heaven or somewhere else entirely, hurtling into space, with only his touch and kiss grounding her.

She clung to him, reveling in the feel of his mouth, his tongue, the taste of him.

She wanted more.

Leila couldn’t help the little noises escaping her throat, and it would have been embarrassing how much she was enjoying him if not for his grunts of approval and the way he clung back to her.

They were both swept up in mutual passion, and for the first time, she felt completely surrendered to another person.

When he broke the kiss, Leila let out a whimper in protest.

Her world tilted off-kilter, and she clung to him, her nails digging into his shirt and the muscles of his back, desperate to anchor herself. Desperate for him to keep kissing her.

Their breathing labored, they were both panting as if they had run for miles. Then he smiled, and the world righted itself back again.

He had a beautiful smile. It made him look decades younger—almost boyish and carefree.

He touched her chin with his knuckles, teasing a path along her lower lip with his thumb.

Leila couldn’t take the sensation; it felt too good. Her eyes fluttered closed, and a small sigh left her lips.

She couldn’t control her response to Gideon’s touch, to the sound of his voice, to the heat in his gaze. It was as if her body no longer belonged to her; it belonged to him.

She had never felt anything like this with anyone else.

Yes, she’d been with men before. She didn’t want to think about those encounters—not now. Even calling them unpleasant was putting it mildly. At times, they’d coax a reaction from her body. A flicker of pleasure here, a gasp there. But it was rare. Disjointed. Disconnected.

Sometimes, when she was alone, she could bring herself to release during brief moments of stolen pleasure.

But this was completely different.

His touch set her alight. Her body refused to cool, refused to stop responding, as though tethered to his—his hand to hers, his mouth to her skin, every movement drawing a mirrored response from deep within her.

This time was different.

This time, she wasn’t alone, mechanically exploring her own body for a quick, hollow release.

This time, she wasn’t forcing her mind to fragment—concentrating on isolated sensations, disparate touches divorced from their source—anything to distract herself from the men using her body while she stole whatever brief pleasure she could from their unwanted caresses.

This time, the hands on her skin belonged to the man she had chosen.

Not because kissing him would advance her mission. Not because seducing him would distract or delay him while she accomplished some darker purpose. Not because her body was a tool to be wielded in service of the Cardinal’s will.

She didn’t touch him because she was commanded to, or threatened into compliance, or because duty demanded she perform this intimate charade.

She touched him because her soul craved it. Because every fiber of her being yearned for this connection, this man, this moment of pure, untainted desire.

And she wanted more.

She wanted everything.

She wanted to experience every sensation her body was capable of in his arms, so if she returned to her previous life tomorrow, if nothing changed and she went back to serve the Cardinal or someone else, she could remember this feeling forever.

This feeling when her body was her own and she gave it to the man who made her heart leap.

So that if she was required to be with other men, she would know that this man, the man she chose, had already shown her everything her body could experience.

His thumb traced her lower lip again, and she found herself pressing a soft kiss to the pad of it. The simple gesture made his breath catch, and she felt a surge of power course through her veins.

“Leila,” he whispered her name.

She met his gaze, and the awe she saw there made her heart swell.

Her name on his tongue, the look in his eyes told her that he chose her back.

It was her, Leila, that he wanted. Not just anyone.

She reached up and traced the strong line of his jaw, marveling at the slight roughness of stubble beneath her fingertips. Everything about him fascinated her—the way his eyes fluttered closed at her touch, the way his breathing deepened when she explored the column of his throat.

“Gideon,” she whispered against his skin, pressing kisses along his neck. She could taste the salt of his skin, feel the pulse of his heartbeat beneath her lips. It was intoxicating, this freedom to explore, to discover what made him sigh or groan. “I want to know all of you. Touch you everywhere.”

He pulled back to look at her, his hands framing her face. “I am yours…” he swallowed hard, tempering his raspy voice. “Tonight. I am all yours tonight.”

And that was enough. Something shifted in his expression, and he kissed her again, slow and thorough, as if he had all the time in the world to memorize the taste of her mouth.

When they broke apart, she began to explore him with newfound boldness.

Her fingers found the fastenings of his shirt, working them open with trembling hands.

Each button revealed more of his chest—strong, broad, sprinkled with dustings of silver hair.

She pressed kisses to the newly exposed skin, savoring the way his muscles jumped beneath her touch.

She pushed the fabric from his shoulders, her hands smoothing over his fair skin.

Her palms traced the contours of muscle and bone, learning the map of scars that told stories of his past. She pressed kisses to his collarbone, his shoulder, the hollow at the base of his throat, delighting in the way he responded to her touch.

“I want to see you,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

His hands moved to the buttons of her shirt, but he paused, a question in his eyes. For a moment, Leila just stared at him, wondering what he was waiting for.

“May I?” he rasped again. Only then did Leila realize he was waiting for her permission.

She wasn’t used to men doing that. They took what they wanted and commanded her to perform whatever acts pleased them.

The look in Gideon’s eye as he asked her, the need she could see written all over his features, made her eyes prickle with tears.

Gideon wasn’t exactly a gentle man. He didn’t handle her like a porcelain doll that might break in his arms. He kissed her with fire, gripped her hair and body like a man drowning in need—just as lost in her as she was in him.

And she met that hunger with her own.

Their passion burned white-hot between them, all-consuming and primal. Yet, even amidst that blazing need, even as they both trembled with want, he had taken a moment to ensure she felt safe enough to bare her body to him.

She didn’t know if this was normal. In her experience, it wasn’t.

Either way, she was grateful.

She gave a little nod, drawing immense satisfaction from the look in his eyes as he slowly unbuttoned her shirt, his knuckles brushing against her skin as he worked.

He pushed the fabric away, the cold air surrounding her bare skin, making her nipples harden. His silver eyes glowed like fire, his breath hitching.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands skimming her sides.

When his palms cupped her breasts, she gasped at the sensation. Every nerve ending seemed to sing under his touch. Never had she found as much pleasure as she did in his hands.

He caressed her breasts, slowly learning her shape, then pinched her nipples.

She yelped in surprise, and the grin that spread across his face was full of mischief. She couldn’t help but laugh in response.

He lowered his head and kissed the swell of her breast, nudging it with his lips, biting lightly.

Leila moved, bringing her nipple to his lips, and he chuckled, his warm breath hitting her skin and making her arch.

He slowly opened his lips and took her hardened peak into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue, bringing her wave after wave of pleasure.

She arched her back even more, demanding more of his touch, more of his kisses. She needed more of him.

And he obliged, kissing, licking, devouring her breast, then moving to the other while his hands explored her skin, leaving scalding sensations in his wake.

Then he moved lower, his mouth tracing a hot path down her belly, his tongue dipping into her belly button, then pausing at the band of her breeches.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband and looked up. “May I?”

Leila nodded.

She was willing—no, she was dying—to let him do anything he wanted to do to her. She wanted to experience it all.

With him.

* * *

Gideon watched Leila as she lay half-naked beneath him, and he couldn’t believe the heat coursing through his veins. It ignited him from the inside out, to the point where he was certain his eyes blazed with fire.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way—if he’d ever felt this way at all—and he didn’t want to.

What mattered was the woman in his arms.

Leila .

She writhed beneath him, her black hair fanned like ink on his cloak, her movements lithe. Like a panther. Wild. Dangerous. Graceful.

And utterly irresistible.

His Leila.

Mine .

She was his tonight.

And his body knew it.

He was hard as stone, barely holding back from tearing off her clothes and thrusting into her in one swift motion.

But she deserved better. Much better.

And so did he.

He wanted to explore her completely. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to show her a pleasure she hadn’t known before, and he wanted to experience it with her. To see the wonder in her eyes. To hold her close as she fell apart and was put back together.

By him.

He made quick work of the fastenings on her breeches, and a moment later they were gone, along with her stockings, leaving her completely bare beneath him.

He slowly skimmed her skin with his hands, gliding up her legs, exploring her thighs, then gently nudging them apart.

When he looked up at her, he saw the same hunger in her eyes that raged inside him.

His gaze never left hers as his hands settled on her hips while his mouth moved higher—pressing kisses to her knees, and higher still, to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

He gently spread her open wider, watching her hazy gaze. Then slowly, softly, he kissed her center.

She jerked in response, her hips lifting, eyes wide with surprise. He held her firmly, his eyes searching hers.

“Gideon,” she breathed, her gaze questioning, confused.

Had she never been touched this way before?

Never been worshipped the way he wanted to worship her? Tasted the way he needed to devour her?

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky. “Tell me what you need.”

She blinked, her breathing labored, before she threw her head back, relaxing. “I—I just want you.”

That simple admission nearly undid him.

He was already hard, hot, trembling from how badly he needed her. How badly he wanted to know her taste.

He lowered his head and licked between her folds. She nearly flew off the ground again. He held her hips in place with one hand while his other joined his tongue, plunging his fingers inside her, working her, exploring her, devouring her.

Her taste drove him mad.

He growled, an animal possessed, desperate for more—more of her taste, more of the sounds she made, more of the way she moved in his arms.

She twisted and writhed beneath him, her fingers buried in his hair, tugging him closer, holding on as if she might drift away without him.

“Let go,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “I want to see you come apart in my arms.”

He continued licking her, drinking her in with renewed vigor when she made a small sound—half gasp, half moan—and he felt her pulse around his fingers.

Her inner walls clenched, and he quickened his rhythm, drawing careful, deliberate circles with his tongue.

God, the way you taste…

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.