Page 33 of Ravished

"It makes no difference." Harriet shivered at the feel of his mouth on her skin. "There is not another man like you in the entire world. I am certain of that. The other night at the assembly when you danced with me, I found myself hoping that the waltz would not end."

"You enjoyed the waltz?" He brushed his mouth across hers.

"Very much."

"I thought so. I could see your pleasure in your eyes. You are a very sensual little creature, Harriet Pomeroy. The waltz was made for you."

"I should very much like to do it again sometime," she said, feeling suddenly breathless.

"I will make a note of that." Gideon peeled back a bit more of her cloak. His hooded, lambent gaze locked with hers as he put his hand on the curve of her breast. He was waiting for her reaction.

Harriet gasped at the shocking intimacy. She knew she really ought to tell him to stop. But she was nearly twenty-five years old, she reminded herself. And this was the first time she had ever known the touch of a man. It would probably be the only time she experienced it.And this was Gideon.

"Well, Harriet?" Gideon's huge hand moved on her with tantalizing tenderness, cupping her, shaping her, stroking gently.

Harriet's tongue touched the corner of her mouth. She could not find words to respond. Her pulse was pounding and a heavy liquid warmth was flowing somewhere deep within her. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him with a passion that seemed to explode out of nowhere.

Gideon needed no further urging. The cool restraint that had characterized his actions thus far dissolved in an instant. He swept aside her cloak and began undoing the tapes of her gown.

"Harriet. My sweet, trusting Harriet," he whispered hoarsely against her throat as he slid the bodice down to her waist. "You have sealed your own fate tonight."

She did not understand his cryptic words and she was too busy coping with the flood of new sensations coursing through her to ask him what he meant. Harriet only knew that what was happening was somehow meant to be. It was something she wanted. Something she could not avoid. Something she longed—no,needed—to experience.

She was cold where the air touched her bare skin and then she was warm again because Gideon was lying on top of her. More than warm. She was hot. Hotter than she had ever been in her life. The weight of him was incredibly arousing. All her senses responded to it.

Gideon shrugged impatiently out of his greatcoat, revealing the long, white shirt that was all he wore underneath. Dark, crisp hair curled on his broad chest. The thick mat angled downward. Harriet caught a glimpse of his taut, hard manhood and she froze.

"Gideon?"

"You must trust me," Gideon said in a dark, husky voice that betrayed his desire as surely as his body did. He arranged the greatcoat over them both so that his aroused body was no longer visible. "You no longer have any choice but to trust me. Look at me, my sweet Harriet."

She met his eyes and saw the stark need in him. She had never seen blatant need in a man's gaze before, but she recognized it instantly. And she saw something else as well. A deep wariness and a grim determination lit his eyes. It was as if he was bracing himself for some pain that he knew was bound to come.

Harriet smiled softly. "I trust you, Gideon."

He groaned and bent his head to kiss her breast with reverent care. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. This feeling was beyond anything, Harriet thought. She felt Gideon's big hand sliding down, pushing the gown over her hips and completely off, freeing her completely to his touch. Harriet trembled beneath the rough gentleness of his fingers.

His palm was on the inside of her thigh now, stroking upward to the core of the liquid fire that seemed to burn within her. But when he actually dipped one large finger into that fire, opening her, she cried out in shock.

"You are already wet for me." Gideon withdrew his finger carefully and then thrust it slowly into her again.

Harriet's entire body tightened in response to the startling intrusion. She squeezed her eyes shut and held herself still, trying to decide if she liked the feel of him inside her or not. It was all so strange. Deliciously strange.

Then Gideon moved his finger once more and Harriet made her decision. She loved the feeling of him inside her. She lifted her hips against his carefully probing hand and clutched his shoulders.

"You want me." Gideon caught her nipple between his teeth, tugging slightly. "Say it."

"I want you." Harriet could hardly speak. The words were a choked little gasp. "I want you, Gideon."

"Say it again. I need to hear the words, my sweet, reckless Harriet. I need to hear you say them." His hand moved on her, tracing a tiny pattern in the damp heat.

Harriet could not believe it when the fire within her seemed to escalate. She twisted beneath Gideon, seeking some goal she could not name. "Please. Please, Gideon."

"Yes," he muttered. "Bloody hell, yes."

Then he was moving her legs farther apart, settling himself between her thighs. Harriet felt him reach down and guide himself to that part of her he had been stroking. She felt him moisten himself in her wet heat. And then she felt him start to enter her.

Harriet tensed as she realized this particular portion of Gideon was constructed on the same massive scale as the rest of him. Her fingers clenched on his shoulders and her eyes flew open. She found herself gazing straight into the fiery furnace of his tawny gold gaze.

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