“Please, Gideon,” she said softly, those big blue-green eyes of hers begging. This was a new tactic, and it made him instantly wary. Up until now, she’d tried commanding, arguing, ordering, reasoning. Even shrewd bargaining. This new beseeching tone made him uneasy.
She stood in the door to his study, her hands clasped tightly before her. Dear Lord, she looked so damned good. Better every time he saw her, Heaven help him. The red cashmere sweater he’d conjured for her this morning caressed her sweet curves, as did the faded blue jeans. To his chagrin, he found he rather enjoyed providing for her. Clothing, food, whatever she desired.
Well, everything but what she wanted most. To go home.
He closed the book he’d been flipping through with a snap and turned his back to her, his gaze blindly scanning the bookshelf in front of him. “Subject closed,” he reminded her over his shoulder. He reached up to replace the book on the shelf and then grabbed another, not paying the least bit of attention to the title.
The whisper of her boots crossing the area rug caused his body to slowly tighten. Muscle. By. Muscle.
In all fairness, maybe she hadn’t spent every moment nagging him. In truth, they’d actually passed the time, for the most part, in relative peace. As long as he worked hard to ignore the painful tightening in his loins every time she was near, which had been nearly every moment of the day as he’d taken his responsibilities of guarding her to heart.
That, and he still didn’t trust her not to bolt.
So he’d worked to keep them both distracted as much as possible. She was turning out to be an apt pupil with a quick mind when it came to chess. And she liked to paint. Though she professed to be nothing more than an amateur, painting solely for her own enjoyment, she was actually very good. They’d even read for a while in silence, different books in different corners of the room, but they’d been in the same room. So that counted. And they’d talked. She’d broached the subject, more than once, about him teaching her how to defend herself. He’d shot her down, of course. She wouldn’t stand a chance against an angel, let alone a demon. It would be cruel of him to set her up for that kind of failure. They’d watched TV. They’d played cards.
And he was running out of ideas of how to keep her entertained.
Her footsteps were perilously close now. He could smell her, the scent of her shampoo, and that vanilla and cinnamon scent that seemed to seep from her very pores. Damn it, just the smell of her made him painfully hard.
“Gideon.” She paused a few steps away. “Please, look at me.”
Drawing a deep breath, bracing himself, he turned to face her, clutching the book in front of him like a shield, though she couldn’t actually touch him. For some reason, a reason beyond his understanding, he didn’t want her to realize it. If she didn’t realize she couldn’t touch him then in some stupid, completely unrealistic way, maybe he could pretend he was normal.
Those eyes of hers, those damned beautiful, entrancing eyes, peered up at him as she caught the edge of her lower lip between her teeth. All thoughts of normal versus pretend slipped from his mind like dust in the wind. Against his will, he found himself looking at her mouth. Studying it. Craving a taste. Oh how he wanted to drink her in. Devour her. Wanted it so badly his hands trembled and his mouth went dry. His whole body burned with wanting her.
“I know you don’t want to discuss this. I’m sorry, but I can’t let this go. Can we at least compromise? Please?”
He nodded, distracted by the glistening moisture on her lush lower lip. Would she taste like she smelled? Of vanilla and cinnamon? Would sampling her bring comfort? Would it ease the ache? Or would it only enflame him? Make him desperate for more? Insatiable?
“Gideon?” she whispered.
The air seemed thicker, harder to breathe. Vanilla and cinnamon. Like cookies. He’d always been a sucker for cookies. He was drowning in those ocean-colored eyes. And he couldn’t think of a better way to go.
She seemed as mesmerized as he was. Another few inches and that pert little nose would brush against his. And that sprinkle of adorable freckles. He was so close he could count them. Every. Single. One. He wanted to kiss each one, trace them with his fingertips. And then he wanted to skate his hands over those lush, womanly curves. The warmth of her drew him like a magnet. Her eyelids drooped until just a hint of alluring color could be seen through her thick lashes. Her sweet, shallow breaths whispered across his lips. His arms ached with the need to hold her. His hands itched to touch her delicate skin, and he reached out for her.
Have to touch her…
Touch! Can’t touch!
Gideon yanked his hands back, jerked his head up, and staggered back a step. Damn it!
That had been close. Too close.
“Compromise?” He echoed the first word that came to mind, shoving a shaking hand through his hair.
She blinked, clearly confused. She’d been under the same spell. He didn’t know whether to laugh with joy that she wanted him too, or curse his luck. But then, she seemed to recall her purpose. Her face filled with cautious hope.