Page 76 of The Lyon Returns
She breathed in through her nose trying to capture the subtle scent. It wafted in and out of reach, though she angled her head in search of the intoxicating mélange of cedar and sandalwood, freshly laundered linen, and warm male skin.
She slid her cheek, this way and that, until she finally detected a hint of cologne, emanating from either his cravat or his freshly shaven jaw.
The carriage hit a rough stretch of cobblestone and Gwen made her move, shimmying her body further up Gideon’s torso.
Then, the carriage rolled over a rut and teetered, and Gideon’s arms tensed. Beneath her ear, the rhythm of his heart thumped harder.
She froze, hardly daring to breathe as she waited to see if the jolt had awakened him.
Seconds ticked by. Gideon neither moved nor spoke, though hisbreathing had roughened slightly. She smiled, concluding he must be dreaming.
She tilted her head back and the tip of her nose connected with the warm underside of Gideon’s jaw. Until that moment, she had not realized her nose was cold. Her insides bubbled with instant delight at the friction, the delicious masculine scent, the heat of his skin.
She burrowed into him.Heaven. Her mouth watered with the nearly overwhelming urge to trace the tip of her tongue along the burnished flesh to see if it tasted of salt.
“Gwen,” came Gideon’s rich baritone, the rumble sounding twice as loud thanks to her ear, pressed to his chest. “What are you doing?”
“Oh,” she said, far too loudly, her hands clenching reflexively in the material of his waistcoat. Mortified, she released the silk, then smoothed her palms over the aggrieved garment. “I…er…did not realize you were awake.”
His heart began racing in his chest as if he had set off at a dead run. His breathing, too, seemed shallow and raspy. “You did not answer my question.”
She bit her lip, and opted for the simple truth. “You smell very nice,” she admitted, almost plaintively. “And my nose was cold.”
“Hm.”
Try as she might, she could not interpret the gruff reply.
The blanket lifted briefly, allowing a pocket of cold air to breach the warm cocoon surrounding her.
“My hands are cold,” he said, by way of explanation, as he slid them beneath the blanket. One large palm that did not feel at all cold to Gwen, flattened between her shoulder blades. The other landed on her lower back. After a moment, he began inching them over her, slowly caressing.
A shiver of heat rolled down her spine, settling deep in her core.
“Is this all right?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper.
What could she say? He had awoken to find her molesting hisperson, and she had not given him the benefit of a choice. Besides, she quite liked his large hands roving over her.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His fingers began to press into the tight places in her muscles, massaging as well as caressing. Her shoulders, her waist, the small of her back.
She pressed her face into his neck. Her breathing developed a rough edge, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice the change.
Then she noticed Gideon’s breathing sounded ragged, too. Tension radiated from his body beneath hers. It occurred to her he might very well be uncomfortable with her weight pressed upon him after—she realized she had no idea how much time had passed since they departed London. An hour, surely. Longer?
She lifted her head to peer up at him.
Though his eyes were closed as in repose, his jaw seemed very tight.
“Do you wish for me to move?” she asked, unable to squelch the reluctant lilt in her tone.
“No,” he said, sounding very sure. His grip tightened on her, as if he feared she might try to dislodge herself despite his reply. “I prefer you stay exactly as you are.”
As her preference matched his own, she once more rested her cheek against his chest. “Gideon, may I ask you a question?”
His hands stilled, briefly. “You may.”
She swallowed, when his fingers, tracing her muscles with small, feather-light touches, found a particularly sensitive hollow forcing her to fight a losing battle over her back’s tendency to arch.
