Page 76 of The Lover's Eye
She jerked her nightdress up and over her hips, but before she could get it any higher, Giles was over top of her, his brilliant game of distraction starting anew.Her inhibitions slipped away with each press of his mouth on hers, her eyelids, her earlobe.He eased the fabric higher to expose her breasts and kissed them with provoking laziness, his lack of urgency only intensifying her need.
Her hands ached for him, and she dug them into his thick hair, letting his curls knot around her fingers as he worked lower, kissing his way down her stomach.He spent minutes brushing his lips over her skin before his mouth finally landed on her center.Isobel had grown so desperate that she jolted at his first touch.
“Would you rather me touch you, like before?”
She shook her head violently on the pillow.In place of words, she pushed him down by the shoulders in shameless pleading.
Giles doled out pleasure in small doses, his mouth warm and tantalizing against her and his unhurried gentleness agitating.Uncertainty burned away, replaced by the persistent thrum of pleasure building in her body.A tremor of delight caught her by surprise, and she shivered, digging her hands into his curls.
“Is this all right?”he asked.She could feel his eyes assessing her, even in the darkness.
It took Isobel a long moment to find the word, but when she did, she couldn’t stop using it.“Yes.Yes, yes, yes.”
The warm breath of his chuckle tickled against her sensitive flesh, and his fingers tightened on her hips, hard and sweet.One hand trailed up to cover her breast, teasing it beneath the thin fabric of her rumpled nightdress.The gradual climb of ecstasy crested then, and the transformation occurred before Isobel was fully aware of it.She surrendered entirely to pleasure—
To Giles, to them.
Ever patient, he drew out the feeling, waiting until her body’s tremors eased to move up and lie beside her.He pulled her close against him and kissed her hairline, unperturbed by the light sweat of her skin.“That’s enough for tonight, my sweet.”
She was still reeling from the release, allowing every muscle to fade into total relaxation.But at this, she lifted her head.“No.I want you.”
“Isobel, if this is you being concerned for me—”
She put a hand over his mouth, and kissed the tip of his nose.“No.This is me being entirely selfish.”
Giles laughed, a soft, honeyed sound, not completely without nervousness behind it.Slowly, he rose from the bed, and Isobel almost voiced her protest, when she saw his hands reaching for the hem of his nightshirt, the waist of his drawers.
Her heart plummeted when the white garments crumpled to the floor.She felt like the earth had been taken out from underneath her.She didn’t need to be familiar with the male form to know her husband was exquisitely formed.
The long, pale lines of his body flitted in and out of the firelight’s shadows.She admired the broad, taut flesh of his chest and the muscled shape of his thighs, even more attractive in their totality than in the glimpse she had gotten.
Giles smiled at her, his eyes glistening with dark humor.Damn it, he could read her like a book, could probably pick out her every rapturous thought.
I love you.
Oh God, she did love him.When had it happened?When had the metamorphosis occurred from attraction, to affection, to …this?A pulsing conviction that left no margin for doubt.It was weightlessness and sparks, like spinning in warmth and sinking without fear.A little dizzy, a little drunk.
She would give anything for him.To see him well and at his happiest—that narrowing glimmer in his eyes and a mussed stack of books.The sharp scent of soil still clinging to his clothes and hands, the world quiet and close, just as he liked it.
But Giles would never want her to give anything up for him.He was the most generous soul she had ever known.
“Would you prefer to keep yours on?”he asked, easing back to the bed.
Too dumbstruck for words, Isobel sat up, drawing the fabric of her nightdress up over her head.His lips were waiting for her on the other side of it, his kiss softer this time, patience and need in equal measure.
She lay back on the bed, and Giles caged her beneath his body.His breathing changed as their bare skin met, miles of softness and heat.Her pulse was running wild, and as she wrapped her arms around his neck, she felt his heart matching hers.
“If you wish for me to stop, or if—”
“I know,” Isobel smiled, surprised to feel tears pricking the backs of her eyes.“You’ll take care of me.”
He smiled and kissed her again, his hand easing down between them to guide himself in place.
The moment met some of what Isobel had been taught to expect.Insistent pressure.Stinging pain that made her bite the inside of her cheek.And then they merged, settling together, and her discomfort eased, small muscles learning to relax around the fullness.But then there were the things her sister hadn’t warned her of, perhaps because she hadn’t experienced them herself.
Giles took Isobel’s face in his hands, the faint callouses of his palms raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck.She had spent hours staring into his eyes, and never before had she seen them like this.
This great, vital man had been stripped of more than his clothes.It was as though he wore his heart in his gaze.It was almost a lost look.Lost to shame?To desire?
