Page 28 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

L eila 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.

Then she took him into her mouth slowly, savoring his heat and the weight of him on her tongue. The taste was intoxicating—masculine, musky, utterly Gideon.

She loved the way he gasped, the way his fists tightened in her hair, the way his entire body shuddered when her tongue swirled around his tip.

She enjoyed the sensation of him in her mouth, the little grunts of pleasure escaping his throat. She wanted to learn the length of him, discover what flick of her tongue made him groan, what made him tighten his grip on her hair, what made him whisper her name in reverence.

She wanted to know him like this—deeply, intimately, completely.

So she explored him, moving slowly at first, then building rhythm, her hand working in tandem with her mouth. His moans were barely controlled, his hips twitching toward her, chasing the heat of her.

“Leila,” he groaned, his voice hoarse and wrecked.

His fingers tugged at her scalp—not roughly, but desperately, guiding her, telling her what he needed without words.

She grew wet with desire and whimpered, her body aching to feel him inside her.

Desperate for more of him, she hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder.

He gasped, his hips jerking forward. Then, with a choked sound, he pulled her close, cradling her face in trembling hands. “Stop,” he panted. “If you keep going… I won’t be able to hold back.”

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered, clutching his arm and pressing it firmly against her face.

He lowered himself to his knees. “I want to feel you from the inside.”

And she wanted that, too.

She silenced him with a kiss, tasting herself on his lips and him on her tongue. His breath shuddered, his fingers digging into her skin in a desperate attempt to anchor her to him. As if letting go would undo him. As if he could melt into her, slip beneath her skin, and never be separate again.

“Gideon,” she whispered.

“Yes, Leila,” he murmured against her mouth. “Say my name again.”

She did, uttering it like a prayer, like a plea.

He laid her down on his cloak and followed her, their bodies aligning perfectly. Their mouths met in a fevered kiss, their limbs tangled, the heat between them all-consuming.

His shaft pressed against her center, slick with her juices, ready to fill her.

She shifted her hips and felt his tip part her folds.

She cried out his name, asking for something she didn’t know what.

But he seemed to know. He pushed forward, slow and steady, until he filled her completely.

She gasped, her nails digging into the muscles of his back.

He paused, looking into her eyes as if to ask if she was hurting, if he could move again.

His face was a grimace of pain, sweat beading on his forehead.

She nodded, her lips parting in a silent plea.

He moved his hips, and she gasped.

He gripped her hands, fingers laced beside her head, holding her in place, grounding her.

Then he set a rhythm, his hips meeting hers with rising intensity. She met his every thrust with equal enthusiasm. They moved together like waves crashing against each other—wild, unstoppable, fervent.

Leila felt pleasure building within her again, fast and sharp. She shuddered, her back arched, her toes curled, her mouth opening in a silent scream as her release wracked her body, stealing her breath. She was hurtling among the stars again—except this time, he was there with her.

He held her tightly, letting out a primal growl as pleasure spilled from him into her.

In the aftermath, they lay together, tangled and breathless.

She trembled in his arms, her body pulsing with aftershocks, her skin tingling from head to toe.

She had never known it could be like this.

She had never felt like this.

Not just sated. Not just desired.

But seen. Claimed. Safe.

Complete.

Gideon propped himself up on his arms and lifted his head.

He was exhausted—his limbs felt heavy—and he could only imagine he was crushing her. But he didn’t want to part from her. Not even for a moment. So he slipped an arm under her back, held her close, and rolled them both so that he lay on his back and she rested atop him.

Then he pulled his cloak over them.

She glanced up at him before ducking her head, but it was enough for him to notice the sheen of tears glinting in her eyes. He brushed the pad of his thumb to the corner of her eye and felt the wetness.

“You’re crying,” he said. Had he hurt her? Had he missed something in the haze of his own pleasure?

She bit her lip and shook her head, though a tear still escaped. He frowned. She leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“Out of joy.”

He studied her face, his frown deepening. It was etched with raw, unguarded emotion.

He caught another tear with his thumb, then kissed her salty cheek before wrapping her tightly in his arms.

Her hand pressed to his chest, where his heart thudded beneath her palm.

“This is the first time I’ve felt like this,” she said softly, on a breath.

He stilled. “The first time?”

Surely she didn’t mean she was a virgin?

She hadn’t seemed uncertain or hesitant. She’d met his passion with equal fire, and he hadn’t exactly been gentle. If this had been her first time, it had been anything but delicate.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice tentative.

“You’re… this wasn’t—” he tried to clarify, but she cut in quickly.

“No. No, this isn’t the first time I’ve…

done this.” She stumbled over her words, letting out a small huff.

“It’s just… this was different.” She paused, her fingers slowly weaving through the soft curls on his chest. “Does it always feel like this when you’re with someone you… ” She hesitated, “choose?”

He rolled just enough to see her face, but she didn’t meet his gaze.

“The person you choose?” he echoed.

“The person you want,” she clarified, quieter this time.

He swallowed, her words tightening something in his chest. “The men you’ve been with before… you didn’t choose them?”

She said nothing.

He closed his eyes against the sudden rush of pain.

“Were you forced?” His voice came out rougher than intended.

She licked her lips. “Sometimes.”

He cursed under his breath. “Tell me who. Names. If you don’t know names, then cities and their descriptions will suffice. I’ll find them.”

She chuckled softly. “There’s no need.”

“Yes, there is,” he growled. “Every man who ever wronged you deserves a long, painful death—and I would be more than willing—no, I would relish being the hand that delivers it.”

She hesitated. “Thank you for saying that. It means more than I can explain that you would even offer.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said. “Any man who forces himself on a woman— any woman—deserves to be eliminated. Doing so would be a pleasure, not a favor.”

She swallowed. “You need to understand… it’s as simple as that.”

What could be simpler? “What do you mean?”

“I mean… they didn’t find me in a back alley and force me at the tip of a blade. I was… I had to do it to ensure my safety and my brother’s. To have a roof over our heads. I was basically a… what’s the word? A harlot.”

Gideon didn’t flinch, precisely, but his muscles coiled, his nose twitching. Not because he was surprised—but because she thought that somehow made her less of a victim. Less worthy of being fought for. Avenged.

Many harlots didn’t choose the lives they stumbled into. Some were tricked or abducted. Others had no other recourse. Unscrupulous bawdy-house owners took advantage.

In her case, though, it was even more complicated.

“I wasn’t soliciting random men on street corners,” she continued.

“Or waiting for people to walk into a bawdy house and hand me a coin.

But I was living under expensive roofs, fed, and looked after.

My brother remained safe and untouched. And for that, I was required to perform services for different men.

“Other times, I had to seduce and spend nights with men to get information for the Cardinal…”

Or to kill, he filled in silently. Like she meant to do to him.

She still didn’t trust him enough to tell him the entire truth. That was fine. He would wait.

“I had to do this to survive. I had to keep my brother safe.”

In short, she’d traded her body for survival. And in his book, that was no different from being forced at knifepoint.

“So they forced you to do it,” he said quietly. Succinctly.

“Yes,” she agreed hesitantly. “But I could have said no.”

“And what would have happened then?”

“I would be punished…” Her grasp on English slipped a little, her accent thickening with exhaustion. “But I could run off. I did, a few times. Once… I got my brother.”

“What happened then?”

“We stayed on the streets… They found us. The Cardinal’s people. They told me I was better off with them…” She paused. “Maybe they were right. My brother went to school with them. On the street, his life would have been ruined. And… if they found me once—”

“They would do it again,” he finished for her.

She nodded against his chest. “And next time, they might hurt him.”

So she was forced. Coerced. Tricked.

Yet, she thought she had agreed to it all. That she’d chosen this life.

Even though she had no real choice.

She’d been taught to think this way. She was a child when it started.

What had she said? Fourteen ?

Gideon fought hard to contain the rage building inside him. She didn’t deserve his anger. He’d save that for the Cardinal.

She needed him calm. Safe. She needed to know that no matter what she said, he would protect her.

The Brotherhood had tried to break her spirit when she was young and vulnerable.

But she still had fire in her. A flame that refused to go out.

And that fire had brought her to him.

By God, he would keep it burning, and he would destroy anyone who ever tried to smother it.

“I have a lot of things to tell you,” she murmured, stifling a yawn.

“You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to,” he assured her.

“I have to,” she said softly. “Not now, because I’m so tired… the words escape me. But I have to tell you things. A lot of things. And once you know them, then you can tell me if you still wish to doll… to dole out punishment on my behalf,” she said the last sentence with incredible slowness.

She was already half asleep, but he needed her to know. “I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would change my opinion of you or the way I feel about you.”

There was a long pause. So long that Gideon thought she might have fallen asleep. Her breathing was even, and her eyes were closed.

Still, she said, “You’re not thinking hard enough.”

He pulled her closer and stroked her hair. “Sleep. Rest. We can talk about everything tomorrow.”