by Elise Marion
Sylvia’s eyes shined silver with unshed tears, her chin trembling. “I’m sorry if I frightened ye, but ye were crying out in your sleep and I knew ye must be dreaming. I couldnae bear to let ye suffer that way.”
He offered her a shaky smile. Now that the initial jolt of awakening from the dream had melted away, he’d begun to tremble as his body eased down from its state of heightened awareness. He was suddenly weak and freezing cold, shaking from head to toe.
“Th-thank you,” he managed, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to contain his volatile emotions.
He wanted to curl up on the floor and weep; to lay his head in her lap and surrender to her comfort and care. He wanted to stop being so bloody afraid.
Determination mingled with the empathy softening her lovely face as she slowly came to her feet. Her motions were deliberate as she took slow steps in his direction, one hand extended.
“May I help ye stand?”
She waited patiently for him to decide, a technique Dr. Scudder had suggested for their interactions. Her requesting permission to touch him still placed a modicum of control in Gideon’s hands, while allowing them both to feel safe with her initiating contact. It wasn’t meant to be a permanent solution, but rather one to help them cross over the tricky territory they’d found themselves navigating. It was their hope—as well as the doctor’s—that someday this wouldn’t be necessary.
“Yes.”
He offered his own hand, allowing her to take it and haul him to his feet. He staggered a bit once he was upright, but Sylvia simply stepped back to give him some space, though she kept her hands open and extended toward him.
“Will ye come to bed and lie wi’ me?”
Gideon stared at her smooth palms, understanding that once he took this step there could be no going back. If he gave in to what she was offering, he could never again turn away from the woman he loved. Not that he wished to. It was only that he’d needed to be certain he was ready. As he placed his hands silently in hers and allowed her to guide him to the bed, he decided it was time. His steps were heavy with fatigue, his insides throbbing and scraped raw by the memories his dream had brought to the surface. He was tired of fighting alone when he had someone within reach who would gladly fight with him. To be lonely and alone were no longer inevitable circumstances. They were a choice, one he would not make again. He needed Sylvia, and he would not fight that need any longer.
He climbed into bed after she arranged herself against the pillows, her hands kept in her lap as she stared expectantly at him. Gideon settled beside her, gazing up at the dark shadows cast over the ceiling as he shivered and twitched, his nerves still rubbed raw and twisted inside out.
“Gideon.”
He turned his head to look at her.
“Will ye let me hold ye?”
Nothing could have stopped him from rolling over until he lay practically on top of her. As he settled one of his legs between hers and rested his head on the plush cushion of her breasts, his awareness of her stole the breath from his lungs. One arm came around his back, while the other buried itself in his hair, her touch light but somehow still conveying steadiness and strength. Gideon forced himself to concentrate on the sweet, floral scent of Sylvia and the comforting rhythm of her heart beneath his ear. The hand at his back held fast while the fingers in his hair began to move in slow, soothing strokes.
“That’s it,” she crooned. “Breathe deeply and relax. Let me take care of ye.”
Speech was impossible when he was so overwhelmed with sensation and warring instincts, so Gideon simply lay and submitted to her. Wrapping both arms around her waist, he squeezed, holding fast to Sylvia—his anchor in the storm, his peace in the midst of the chaos of his ravaged mind. She whispered nonsense into his ear, her touch tracing soothing paths over his scalp. She pressed soft kisses to the top of his head while she slowly rocked from side to side, her soft body cradling him like a warm and welcoming ocean.
Gideon’s senses became attuned to hers, pulling further away from the terror of his dream the longer he lay in cradle of her arms. The tremors abated and he went completely still, burying his face between her breasts and pressing a soft kiss to her sternum.
“Sylvia,” he offered in a soft, broken whisper.
“I’m here, Gideon. Always.”
He kissed her again, then moved higher, aiming for the soft patch of her throat visible above the neckline of her chemise. “God knows I don’t deserve for you to be … but I’m glad you are.”
“Shh. Don’t say things like that. I’m yer wife, Gideon … in sickness and in health. For better or worse. I made those vows and I meant them.”
“Forgive me,” he begged, shifting upward so he could look her in the eye. His hands tightened at her back, squeezing her tight against him. Something within him was desperate to keep her close, as if it feared awakening to find this had all been some kind of dream. He couldn’t bear to lose her again. “Please, Sylvia … say you forgive me. If it takes the rest of my life, I will make it up to you. I’ll shower you with everything you could ever want. There isn’t a thing you could ask me for that I wouldn’t give. Just … don’t give up on me.”
Her plush lips curved into a sweet smile as she slowly brought one hand to his face. She cupped his cheek so tenderly his eyes began to sting from the rightness of it. How had he gone so long without this woman, this touch? Gideon wasn’t certain, but he was determined not to go without it another day in his life.
“I’ve already forgiven ye, mo chroi. And ye dinnae need to give me fine things for me to want ye back. I just need my husband. That’s all.”
“I’m yours, always. I swear it.”
“Then I am satisfied.”
It wasn’t enough, but Gideon would accept it for now. The moment he was able, he’d begin preparing for their new life—the one they’d spoken of on their wedding night as they’d lain together in the afterglow of their first joining. For now, it was enough that they were together, that she was accepting him as he was. His broken pieces hardly seemed like enough to give such a woman, but if she wanted them, Sylvia could have it all.
“Kiss me,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Please, Sylvia.”
Her hands cupped his face and she shifted beneath him before her lips found his. The kiss was soft and questioning at first, as if she wanted to be certain not to give him too much too fast. But, Gideon was desperate, needing to be one with her—the right way this time. He released a soft sigh of acceptance against her mouth, parting his lips to welcome her in. Her tongue met his, and his senses were flooded with the taste her, addicting and sweet.
Gideon nudged his thigh higher, urging her legs farther apart. She gasped into his mouth, but spread her thighs to allow his hips to fall into the welcoming softness of her. He let desire overwhelm him, pushing aside the remnants of his worry, doubt, and fear. There was only Sylvia, her hands cradling his face as she kissed him with a fervor that matched his own. It had been weeks since he’d tied her to this very bed, making love to her for the first time since their wedding night. Just now, it felt like a lifetime had passed, and Gideon couldn’t wait another moment to have her.
This night, this moment, felt too monumental to ignore. They had been reunited when she’d come into his room and urged him to touch her, but this felt like something far greater. This felt like their true reunion, his real homecoming. He had to make it count.
Tightening his hold on her, he rolled to his back, pulling her atop him. She stiffened with a sharp intake of breath, hands braced on either side of him as she reared up to look into his eyes.
“Gideon—”
“I want to be your husband again in every way. I want to share a bed with you and make love to you without restraints or fear between us. I’ve always trusted you, Sylvia … it was myself I didn’t trust. But now … I’m ready.”
The uncertainty melted away from her expression, and understanding lit in her eyes. She hovered over him for a moment, still a
nd silent as she searched his gaze. He returned her stare without blinking, waiting with bated breath for her to take the lead, to accept that he was trusting her with his entire self in a way he’d never trusted anyone.
At last, she sat up over him, legs spread to straddle his hips. Gideon braced himself on his elbows, not wanting to miss a moment of the unveiling as she reached for the folds of the chemise bunched around her hips. He bit his lip until he tasted blood as he watched her body appear inch by perfect inch, the white of the chemise pulling away to reveal soft curves and creamy, sumptuous skin. The heavy length of her mahogany braid fell over one shoulder, the end of it resting just over one nipple. The other peak was fully revealed, beckoning for his touch and his tongue, the pink bud tightening as if his gaze were a physical caress. He trailed his gaze over her bared stomach, then took in the flare of her waist into abundant hips. Then, he was fixated on the soft thatch of curls between her legs and the warm haven they concealed. A desperate groan welled in his throat as he looked at her and realized that it never stopped overwhelming him to know this woman was his.
Biting her lip, she reached a tentative hand toward him. Her fingertips hovered an inch over his chest as she looked at him with uncertainty tangled with the desire in her eyes.
“All right?”
Instead of answering with words, he took hold of her wrist and guided her toward his naked chest. The first touch of her bare hand over his heart sent a jolt of warmth through him. Every hair on his body stood on end as she traced a slow path between his pectorals. He began to tremble again, but this time from the ecstasy of her caress down his abdomen, trailing through the line of blond hairs leading into his trousers. His cock leaped in response to the teasing touch, fighting against the placket of his trousers and the aggravation of his drawers. He kept perfectly still and let her explore him, allowing himself to feel and enjoy her ministrations as they became less tentative. She traced the lines delineating the swells of his chest, the light grooves cutting through the muscles of his abdomen, the hollow of one collarbone where his pulse galloped wildly.
Sylvia bent her head, then paused, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “Yes?”
Her breath tickled his bare skin, and Gideon trembled, gripping the bedsheets tight. “Yes, Sylvia. God … please …”
Then, her mouth was on him, kissing his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Gideon let his head fall back to the pillow, his fingers tight around the coverlet as she soothed him with the soft press of her mouth. A startled cry tore from his throat when her tongue lashed him, warm and wet. He felt her about to pull away and cupped the back of her head with one hand to urge her back to him. If she stopped now, he would die.
“Don’t stop.”
She obeyed, repeating the soft swipe of her tongue against one nipple. His fingers tightened in her hair as she flicked her tongue at him again, then again, tracking a path from one side of his chest to the other. He jerked and shivered beneath her, registering the intimacies as if experiencing them all for the first time. He felt brand new and untouched, as if he’d never known the soft press of a woman’s mouth or the sweet bliss of her tongue. Sylvia kissed her way lower, nuzzling his belly and dragging her tongue lower and lower, until she met the waistband of his trousers.
Gideon forced his eyes open so he could watch her, not wanting to miss a moment of what would happen next. As if she felt his gaze on her, she looked up into his eyes, a fingertip circling the button of his placket. She gave him a teasing smile, the little minx, taking her sweet time easing his buttons free.
“May I touch you here, mo chroi?”
The husky tone of her voice and the warmth of her breath through the thin fabric of his drawers were nearly Gideon’s undoing. His belly clenched and his erection gave a little lurch in response to her request.
“You may touch me wherever and however you please, wife.”
She gave him a little smile before lowering her head toward the opening of his trousers, pressing a soft kiss right against the swollen tip of him. He gritted his teeth, raising his hips to help her pull the trousers and drawers down his hips. It took everything he had to lie there and wait while she eased them down his legs, but was quickly rewarded for his patience. She came back over him, her soft hand wrapping around his straining cock. He gasped when she took him into her mouth, slowly enveloping him in exquisite warmth and wetness. The velvet rasp of her tongue and the soft, sucking motions of her lips sent a poignant ache through him, making him desperate for more. His hips undulated in time with her downward strokes, each pass of her mouth and tongue pushing him closer to the edge. He tipped his head back and surrendered fully to her, gasping and groaning as she took as much of him as the cavern of her mouth and throat would allow, her hand stroking the rest of him in the perfect rhythm.
He was drowning in perfect pleasure, his mind attuned to nothing but his wife and the intimacy of such a personal act—base, primal, and earthy. She made little mewling sounds around him, the vibrations of them adding to the pleasure of her tongue strokes, until Gideon felt as if he couldn’t take much more. His spine went rigid and his legs began to shake as he fought against finishing in her mouth. He was so close, and the notion was a tempting one, but there was something he wanted more than to climax within the welcoming heat of her mouth—and that was for her to join him in that place of rapture, to have her hands on him at the same time her body accepted him in its most sacred of places.
Taking hold of her hair, he gently eased her up, grimacing as his turgid length slipped free of her mouth. He nearly climaxed then and there at the sight she made as he urged her over him—her lips slick and swollen, eyelids heavy over eyes gleaming with desire. He couldn’t wait another moment. Taking hold of her hips, he eased her into position and pressed himself at her entrance. She braced her hands lightly on his chest and followed his guidance, sinking down slowly until she’d enveloped every inch of him into her tight sheath. He hissed through clenched teeth at the grip of her around him, robbed of breath by the perfect pleasure of it. His cock pulsed with every beat of his heart, yearning for movement and friction, to be as deep inside her as humanly possible.
He urged her to move, unable to speak but needing her to know that this was all right; she needn’t hold back with him anymore. Her hips followed the guidance of his hands, and she rocked against him. Sylvia’s eyes slid closed and her lips parted on a musical moan as she took up a slow, aching rhythm. Her sheath stroked him with every movement, taking his breath away and adding a sense of urgency to the need that had been simmering between them for weeks. Gideon kept his eyes open, determined not to miss a moment of this. It was what he’d dreamed of, waited for, hoped for. His hands smoothed up her waist until he cradled her breasts, his thumbs stroking over the delicate points of her nipples. She gasped and trembled atop him, her hands pressing tighter against his chest.
“Yes, that’s it,” he groaned, rolling his hips in time with hers. “Christ, you feel so good, so perfect.”
Sylvia began to lose herself to her own pleasure, and the sight of her caught up in such ecstasy held his rapt attention. He watched the way her expression shifted and came alive each time he moved, finding a new angle, a new rhythm, a new way to offer her the same pleasure she gave him. The weight of her hands pressing into his chest as she used him for leverage sent a sudden, sharp spike of panic through him and a flash of memory tried to encroach upon the moment. With a low growl, Gideon shoved it ruthlessly aside, concentrating on the tight clasp of her around him and the hypnotizing sight of her undulating body. He could breathe, he could see, and he could feel. There was no room for dark memories here. The hands pressing him into the mattress belonged to the woman he loved, and there was nothing to fight. There was only this—them, together—and his surrender to it. He was safe, he was loved, and he had survived for this very purpose. So that he could give this woman his all—body, heart, and soul.
“Oh, Gideon,” she cried, increasing her rhythm as her core began to spas
m around him in a prelude to her climax. “My Gideon.”
Yes, he was hers. That knowledge freed him to give her all he had, bucking his hips at a pace she seemed to like, and riding the wave of her climax until it swelled and crested, culminating in a powerful release. Her cries echoed from the walls as her hips bucked and her insides squeezed and spasmed around him with such force he could hardly breathe.
When she fell limp atop him, he rolled her onto her back without disengaging from her body, picking up their rhythm where she had left off. Sylvia wrapped her legs around him, surrendering as he took hold of her hands and stretched them over her head. He fit his palms against hers and intertwined their fingers, holding fast as he stroked hard and deep, chasing his own release. She buried her face in his neck, shocking him with the hot splash of tears as soft sobs mingled with the cries of her pleasure. He tightened his hold on her, registering the feel of her wedding band cutting into one knuckle.
“Sylvia,” he whispered, kissing her temple, her cheek, her lips. The salt of her tears wet his lips, and he tasted her relief in them, as well as her joy. “My Sylvia.”
He captured her lips just before release slammed into him with the force of a battering ram, groaning into her mouth as he seated himself deep and spilled his seed. Their lips remained locked, tongues searching and chests heaving into one another as they fought for the air shared between them. Gideon urged her hands to his shoulders, silently commanding her to hold him. Her touch was soothing against his sweat-slicked back, and her lips were ambrosia—soft and yielding and tasting of paradise.