Page 35 of The Gilded Lady (The Gilded West #3)

Chapter Eighteen

Z ane held her tight as he released her legs, letting them slide down his body in a smooth glide that left his blood rushing through his veins.

He couldn’t stop staring down at her. The elegant sweep of her cheekbones, the perfect fullness of her lips, and the intoxicating look in her hazel eyes.

He knew that look. Christine had given him that look, which is why her betrayal had ripped his heart out.

He could’ve better dealt with the fact that she hadn’t loved him after all.

That their relationship had been built on lust he’d mistaken for love.

It would’ve been easier to handle when she’d left him broken and bleeding in the dirt.

But that hadn’t been the case. She’d loved him.

He’d seen it in her eyes and felt it in her touch.

The simple truth was that she’d chosen something else over him, despite their love.

The pad of his thumb traced over Glory’s brow as he saw an echo of that look in her eyes.

She was falling in love with him. He swallowed thickly, aware that his hand held a slight tremor as he touched her.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his caress, a soft sound at the back of her throat letting him know how much she enjoyed being touched by him.

They’d agreed to not talk about the future, but he couldn’t go further with her until he was certain that she understood.

“Glory?”

“Mmm….” She opened her eyes and there was that look again. Warm and open and trusting and part of him wanted that, reveled in it even; but, with that longing came dread and certainty that they were headed for a cliff and the inevitable fall.

“I need you to know that this…” He broke off and had to swallow again past a tongue gone thick and clumsy with all the things he didn’t know how to say. “I can’t promise you more than tonight. Hell, we both know I can’t even promise you tomorrow.”

She gave him a slow nod, her teeth working her bottom lip. “You make me feel like no one ever has, Zane. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life regretting not holding on to this moment. We both know tomorrow isn’t certain. But tonight can be.”

He wanted to crush her against him, but holding her was like holding something very precious.

He didn’t want to chance breaking her, so he very slowly and with infinite tenderness brought his lips to hers.

She opened beneath him, enthusiastically deepening the kiss, and he was lost. All his careful intentions fell to the wayside.

She tasted so sweet and good that he drank from her lips, wanting more.

She groaned in the back of her throat, a sound that moved through him, thickening his blood and driving it south.

He held her closer, but it wasn’t close enough.

Suddenly her gown was too much, he wanted her naked and beneath him.

His hands tightened at her waist as he held her flush against him, the hard steel of his arousal pressing into her soft belly.

Hard where she was soft. Rough where she was smooth.

The differences between them begged to be explored.

Breaking the kiss enough to take a deep breath and calm himself down, he looked down at her. To his surprise she gave him a coy smile.

“I want to see you without your shirt again. I didn’t get to touch you last time.”

He grinned, amazed and in awe of the beautiful woman before him.

She was a contradiction of eagerness and hesitancy.

His fingers were already on the buttons of his shirt before he’d even realized he’d moved, so he had to remind himself to go slow and let her set the pace.

He was the luckiest man alive right now that she was letting him in and allowing him to show her how good things could be between a man and a woman.

Without looking to see where it would fall, he tossed his shirt to the side.

His chest swelled with an emotion he couldn’t be bothered to name as her gaze raked over him hungrily.

Gently taking her hand, he brought it to his chest. Her teeth tugged at her soft bottom lip as she ran both palms over him, making him want to take her lips again. So he did.

Her hands gently squeezed his chest muscles as she opened for him, allowing his tongue to delve inside and taste her sweetness.

He wanted to taste her everywhere, but he’d take what he could get for now.

As they kissed, she explored him. His chest, his back, the planes of his stomach.

Her fingers stopped at the top button on his pants.

“Go ahead.” His voice was a breathless whisper when he pulled back.

She hesitated. Her fingers traced over his skin, making everything in him tighten and burn with need.

Slowly so that she could tell him to stop if she wanted, he reached for his pants, his fingers finding hers at the button.

Very gently he popped it open. She took in a harsh breath, but she didn’t draw away.

Instead, he felt her fingertips tracing over his belly, playing in the light matting of fur that led down into his pants.

Gritting his teeth against the pleasure, he stood there for her, letting her explore him. He was throbbing, needing her to touch him, wanting to be buried inside her, so he closed his eyes and thought of anything but her soft hands playing over his skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

He grinned. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that.”

She smiled up at him. “Well then that’s a travesty. It’s true.” Her eyes roamed over his torso in appreciation and her hands followed as if she couldn’t get enough of touching him. The fingers of one hand traced over his shoulder, the one with the scar. “What happened?”

He wanted to shrug off the question, but the way she looked at him as she asked, her eyes so solemn and knowing, he couldn’t.

She looked at him not as a marvel, but as someone who carried scars of her own.

Someone who’d been through the worst life could offer and just might be able to understand.

It wasn’t even a conscious thought, but he found himself telling her. “It’s a lash from a whip.”

She gasped, but she didn’t pull her hand away. Her fingertips traced it up and down his shoulder before moving up to his face. He’d never allowed a woman to touch his scar before. That horrible night had been too fresh and vivid in his mind for too long. But he found himself leaning into her touch.

“This is the same type of scar,” she whispered, her fingertip tracing over his brow.

He gave a slight nod so that he wouldn’t dislodge her hand. “It happened the same night as the other. The night the Reyes hacienda was raided by the Derringers.”

She didn’t seem horrified or upset. There was calm acceptance in her expression, an acknowledgment. They were both survivors. “It makes you look dangerous,” she said, a teasing light in her eye. “When you’re angry you look downright vicious. And now…”

“And now?” He prompted.

“You look like the big bad wolf, waiting to eat me up.”

“Hmm…not a bad idea.”

She giggled, the light and happy sound washing over him and filling him up with sunshine and contentment.

“You’ll need to take off your dress first.”

She nodded and turned so that he could work the fastenings. His fingers, thick and clumsy, trembled as he unfastened each tiny button. He took advantage of her exposed neck and placed an open-mouthed kiss at her nape, letting the tip of his tongue drink the salty sweetness from her skin.

She sighed and moved back into his touch. “That’s lovely.”

He nearly laughed at her description. He’d take lovely. As he unbuttoned her dress, he kissed his way down her spine until his lips found the cotton fabric of her chemise, then he kissed back up, loving the chill bumps his touch raised on her skin.

“Take this off,” he whispered in her ear when he’d finished.

She moved away to take the garment off and step out of her shoes, carefully placing the dress in the armoire.

He sensed some hesitation in her, so he took the opportunity to sit on the edge of the bed and take off his boots.

He’d gone back to his own clothes since he’d been on watch.

Well aware that they might not progress past kissing and touching tonight, he vowed to pace himself and ignore the hunger roaring through his veins.

When he was left in his pants and she only in her chemise, she walked over to stand in front of him. His hands were drawn to her, catching her by the waist and pulling her closer. She was smiling a little, but there was fear in her eyes now.

“We don’t have to do more tonight.” His voice was husky and rough.

“No…it’s not that.”

His fingers tightened in the chemise and he placed a kiss in the tantalizing dip between her breasts where the fabric met her skin. There was a ribbon holding it together and he wanted to pull it apart. To see her breasts. To taste them.

“You can tell me.”

“I want to do more, I’m just…” She shook her head and ran a hand over her face in exasperation. “I don’t like that I’m afraid, but I am.”

He ran his hands up her rib cage and back down, stopping short of her breasts. “Does it feel good when I touch you?”

She nodded.

He took in a deep breath, taking in her rose scent.

“You get to set the pace, Glory.” To demonstrate his point he brought his hands up again, stopping just under the fullness of her breasts.

He met her gaze before he went further, silently asking for permission.

She gave him a nod and he took them in his palms. The mounds barely filled his hands.

Her nipples were tight against his palms, and her lips parted as he gently tested their weight.

“More?”