She lifted her eyes to his. “You’re beautiful.”
He couldn’t hold back any longer. He thrust his fingers into her hair, dragging her to him as he plundered her mouth until they were forced to break apart for air. He dropped his hands to his sides again. “Take your top off,” he gritted out.
Keeping her gaze locked to his, she did so and he groaned when her breasts came into view. “You’re the beautiful one.” Gently he cradled them in his hands, his thumbs softly flicking the nipples he couldn’t wait to taste.
Her head fell back, her mouth falling open on another of those throaty sighs that made him want to plunge inside her. But he held on to his control. This would be good for her. For them. He’d take his time. He’d—
“Fuck, Daisy, fuck,” he snarled when she delved under his briefs, her fingers closing around him. He pulled her to him again, this kiss openmouthed, primal, and absolutely raw as she pumped him, squeezing on the upstroke. And then her hand was gone, but before he could protest, she was pushing his sweats down his hips and wriggling from his hold. He wanted to drag her back, wanted to throw her on the bed and suck on her breasts.
But all those thoughts were driven from his racing brain when she took him in her mouth and all he could do was stand there, his legs shaking as he was enveloped in hot, wet . . . heaven. He watched her blond head bobbing up and down, the sight the most erotic he’d ever seen, until the pleasure became too much and his head fell back.
He was close. Too close. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her off him, kicking off the sweats and briefs. Carefully he pushed her to the pillow, stripping her shorts and panties down her legs.
And he stood there and looked his fill, wishing he had a better word than “beautiful.” Bracing one knee on the mattress next to her hip, he drew a line from the hollow of her throat, down her chest, between her breasts to her stomach, feeling it quiver. Watching the goose bumps spread across her flesh. Watching her arch expectantly when he paused.
“Gideon.” His name on her lips was both plea and command. Her knee bent, falling to the bed, leaving her open to his hungry gaze. “Do it. Touch me.”
He trailed his finger down, dipping his fingertip into glistening . . . perfection. She cried out, her back and hips coming off the bed as if he’d shocked her.
He’d known she’d be this responsive. Somehow he’d known.
He explored slowly, deliberately, earning more curses and pleas. When he slipped his finger inside her she writhed helplessly. “Please, please, please,” she chanted in a whisper. Impatient, her arm flung backward, blindly searching the nightstand for the strip of condoms. When she had them in her hand, she shoved them into his. “I need you. Now.”
He didn’t want to stop touching her. Fascinated with the way her body was moving, he withdrew his finger and added a second.
With a snarl she grabbed the strip of condoms from his hand and ripped one off herself. She fumbled the packet, cursing again. She finally ripped it open and, with an upward glance that promised retribution, she lifted up on her elbow and managed to slide the condom down his length, stroking him as she’d done before.
He closed his eyes, letting himself steep in the sensation. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this. Like this? Maybe never.
“Please,” she said, so quietly he nearly missed it. Opening his eyes, he saw she was on her back, her arms open. “Now, Gideon.”
He pulled his fingers from her and brought them to his mouth. His tongue gathered up the flavor that was all her. “Next time I want to taste you.”
“Next time you can do whatever you want. This time I need you down here.”
He moved between her thighs, sliding down so that he could suck on her pretty breasts. Her fingers were in his hair again, her head thrown back, her hips pressing against his chest in a rhythm that was slowly driving him insane.
He gave each of her nipples a lick before bracing his hands beside her head, lifting his body so that he hovered at her entrance. “Look at me,” he demanded.
Her eyes opened and his chest squeezed so hard that it almost hurt. There was hunger in her gaze, but also trust. They mixed with the yearning that had been there before and he knew that, whatever happened between them, he’d never forget the way she was looking at him now.
“Tell me you want this,” he ground out, needing to hear her say it once more.
Her hands skated down his back, gripping his ass. “I want this. I want you.”
He let go of his control and slid inside her, groaning at how amazing she felt around him. Tight, wet heat. Shuddering, he dropped his face to her neck. “God.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “So good, Gideon. I can feel you . . . throbbing inside me.”
Her words were like an electric shock. “Fuck,” he growled, the rest of his words nowhere to be found. He began to move, pushing up so that he could see her face.
Her eyes were still open, still hungry. Watching him. She licked her lips and dug her fingers into his glutes, meeting him thrust for thrust as their eyes locked in a way that was more than simple sex.
He’d known she’d be perfect. But she was better than his wildest imagining. Tighter, hotter. Like she’d been made for him. For me. No one else.
Mine. She’s mine. It might be a foolish thought, but he wasn’t dismissing it because this was the best he’d ever felt. Ever.
This was pure pleasure. But it was also comfort and affirmation. That this thing between them was very, very right.
Her legs wound around his, holding him to her, drawing him impossibly deeper, and his train of thought jumped its rails. He began to thrust harder. Faster. He hooked his hands under and around her shoulders, trying to pull her closer. And still she watched him, her gaze never wavering, her hair spread on the pillow, golden in the low light.
“More,” she mouthed, and he lost the last of his control.
He pounded into her, his mind wiped of everything but how she made him feel. She made him feel. She made him alive. “Come,” he hissed. “Come for me. Now.”
Throwing back her head on a fractured cry, her eyes closed as she went over, her wet heat spasming around him, pulling him with her.
Burying his face in her hair, he followed on the most powerful release he’d ever experienced, the shout in his throat completely silent.
Boneless, he collapsed, his lungs unable to take in enough air. Gradually he became aware of the scent of almond cookies. Her hair. And gentle fingers stroking up and down his back. He pushed up on his elbows to find her face relaxed like he hadn’t yet seen it. Eyes closed. Lips smiling. She looked . . . serene. Blissed out. Well loved.
He kissed her forehead, trying to think of something to say, but no words would come. Her eyes opened and he couldn’t look away.
“Don’t go yet,” she whispered.
“Okay.”
Her hands continued to stroke his back and he wished they could stay like this forever. But he had to deal with the condom, so he reluctantly pulled out of her. He kissed her mouth softly. “I’ll be right back.”
When he rounded the corner after leaving the bathroom, she was exactly where he’d left her. Watching him with a smile that made all the pieces of his heart come together.
He climbed under the sheets, holding his arm out. She rolled over, her head on his chest, her hand over the tattoo on his chest.
And he realized he hadn’t seen her tattoo yet. He curved his arm around her, bringing her even closer. “You never showed me your tattoo.”
She laughed. “Tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.” He twisted, reaching for the light switch, plunging the room into darkness.
She sighed, a sweet sound. “Thank you, Gideon.”
He kissed the top of her head. “It was my pleasure. Really.”
She laughed again, sleepily. “Good. Sleep now. I set an alarm for us to go to the bus station.”
The bus station. Right. The reason they were here. He held her a little tighter, hoping the morning would bring them answers.
REDDING, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2:30 A.M.
He turned into the hotel’s parking lot, holding his breath, then letting it out on a rush when he saw the Fed’s black Toyota exactly where it had been before. He pulled into the adjacent parking slot and got out of his car, relieved to find the Toyota’s engine cold to the touch and frost spreading over the windshield. The car hadn’t been moved. Both the Fed and Daisy were still in the hotel, the light still out in their second-floor room.
What they were doing at the moment . . . he didn’t want to think about.