Gavin returned her embrace, the sense of relief at being back in her arms profound. He was further relieved that whatever seemed to be bothering her earlier had apparently passed. “No problem.”
“Will you take me for a ride on the bike sometime?”
“Any time you want. It looks nice in here.”
“I was afraid it was too much. I blew out all the candles, and then I relit them. I was about to blow them out again when I heard you coming up the stairs.”
Unable to resist for another minute, he leaned in to kiss her. “It’s not too much. It’s just right.”
Ella tugged on his jacket. “Take this off. Come get comfortable.”
Gavin did as directed and then followed her to the sofa. “You build a good fire.”
“We were trained at an early age.”
“That was one of the first things we learned how to do when we moved here.”
“You want a beer or some of your ice cream or anything?”
He shook his head. “There is one thing I want . . .”
“What’s that?” Her cheeks were flushed with color, her lips parted and her eyes bright with happiness. At least he hoped it was that. He wanted to make her happy.
Leaning in again, he kissed her. “More of this.”
Her arms came around him, drawing him closer to her.
Gavin went willingly, feeling like a starving man who’d finally found sustenance after a long, difficult journey. She was so soft and fragrant and responsive. He’d noticed that the first time he kissed her—the way she’d leaned into him, participating fully like now when her tongue rubbed up against his.
He flattened his hand over her belly and then tugged playfully on the tie to her robe. “What’s under here?”
Breathless from the kiss, Ella said, “Why don’t you untie it and find out?”
He glanced at her, seeming to gauge whether she was serious.
She was serious. Dead serious.
Gavin tugged at the silk tie, which gave easily. The robe fell open to reveal the matching silk nightgown she wore underneath. “Wow.”
CHAPTER 8
Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.
—Samuel Smiles
Ella was on fire for Gavin. She’d never felt anything remotely like what she did when he was holding her and touching her this way. This, right here, was why no other man had done it for her. It was why she’d waited for him. Mustering her courage, she placed her hand on top of his and guided it up to cup her breast.
She wanted to whimper from the sweet pleasure that coursed through her, and then he caught her nipple between his thumb and index finger, making her gasp. “Gavin . . .”
“What, honey? Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”
Wrapping her hand around his nape, she guided his mouth to her breast. He took the hint, suckling her nipple through the silk of her gown until it was hard and tight.
Fisting his hair, she held him in place, hoping he would never stop. She squirmed under him, trying to get closer, and felt his erection press against her leg. Ella wanted to touch him there. She wanted to touch him everywhere.
Then he was sliding the strap of her gown down her arm to bare her breast to his lips and tongue. God, she’d never felt anything better than the rasp of his whiskers against her sensitive skin. The tug of his lips on her nipple made her want to forget all about propriety and taking it slow and guarding her heart. She was prepared, right in that moment, to give him everything.
Her breasts were on the smaller side, but incredibly sensitive, never more so than right now.
He shifted so he hovered above her, freeing her other breast from her gown and giving it the same attention.
She loved the sight of him bent over her, worshiping her, his soft dark hair and work-roughened hands touching her fevered skin as he licked and sucked and tugged on her nipples. The weight of his body kept her pinned to the sofa, unable to move, unable to address the thrum of desire between her legs. All she could do was clutch handfuls of his hair while he kept up the sensual torture.