“Saints and sinners, we eat here,” Gideon had growled. “It’s not sanitary!”
After that, we refrained from getting too frisky in the common areas of the house. At least, we tried.
The days were full of training, therapy sessions, and phone calls with Danny. My nights were spent in the arms of my angels, sharing secret smiles and stolen kisses. And later, in the dark, discovering new and forbidden pleasures.
Jai and Noel monopolized a lot of my time, especially at night, but every few nights, Gideon would claim a spot in my bed. He’d sit with his back to my headboard and open our current Harry Potter book, picking up where we’d left off the last time we’d read together. I didn’t think it was Gideon’s preferred genre of reading, but he said that didn’t matter. It was time spent together, and that’s all he cared about. I’d kissed him hard when he told me that, and he’d chuckled against my lips.
As his rumbling voice spoke of magic and intrigue, I’d lay at his side, my head in his lap. His fingers would play with my curls as I basked in his presence. When I wasn’t in the mood for reading, we’d lay in the shadows cast by the moonlight and talk about everything and nothing. If I was feeling extra brave, I’d initiate kisses.
Sometimes, he pulled away after only a few chaste pecks, and we’d end the night with snuggles and conversation. Other times, he reciprocated with enthusiasm, and we’d kiss until I was short of breath and tenting my pajama pants. He’d long since stopped reacting in surprise or uncertainty when I got hard. He would smile kindly and slow our kisses until I was tucked against his vast body, waiting for my hormones to settle.
There were nights it would hurt, moments when the rejection would threaten to drive a wedge between us. But Gideon never let it. Half the time, he seemed to know what I was thinking without me having to say it, and he’d be there with reassurances and promises of love. And I learned to tell him when I was feeling insecure.
It sucked to admit the weakness, but honesty always led to cuddles, tender kisses, and shy, unsure touches. It was never sexual; even when I was hard and aching for him, he never put his hands on me that way. But he would map my skin with an awed admiration, discovering my body like it was never before seen territory.
For him, I supposed it was. He’d never touched a man’s body before, not like this. And I would take every single touch he offered, even when his exploration unearthed a strange fascination with my toes. He loved playing with them, his thick fingers cumbersome next to my tiny nubbins. The one time Noel painted my toenails, I swore Gideon almost had an aneurysm.
I wasn’t much of a foot person, but I didn’t mind the massages or the kisses he placed on each toe when he finished. And I loved the nights he let me do my own exploring, running my hands over his thick muscles. In the same way he liked my toes, I was crazy about his chest hair. Neither Jai or Noel were particularly hairy, but Gideon was, and I loved it.
My favorite thing to do right after he showered was burying my face in his armpit, nuzzling the soft hairs there as my fingers played with the thick curls on his chest. This obsession led to my most recent revelation—Gideon was ticklish. I’d nose under his arm, and he’d rumble with laughter, squirming beneath me until I buried my face in his chest hair instead.
God, I loved him.
“Huh, my ribs don’t stick out anymore,” I said one night at the end of February.
Gideon sat at the foot of my bed, glasses perched on his nose as he read something on his phone. He glanced up above the rim of his glasses, inspecting me almost clinically as I poked at my waist where my ribcage no longer stretched my skin. There was no heat to his gaze, even though I stood in nothing but my underwear.
“You look much healthier,” he said.
“I’ll never be”—I waved at him and his ridiculously defined muscles—“you know, like that. But I feel stronger. I didn’t even take a break during our ten-mile run today,” I said proudly.
“You’ve been doing wonderfully, dear,” he said as he removed his glasses. “I’m so very proud of you.”
As always, his esteem flooded me with pleasure, and I grinned like a maniac. “Erm, thanks.”
I gathered my discarded clothes and dumped them into the hamper. Gideon’s gaze was heavy as it slid over my scarred back, and I hesitated with my thumbs hooked in the band of my underwear. He’d seen me naked before, but I’d never actually gotten naked in front of him like this.
But I had to shower, and he didn’t look like he was leaving my room anytime soon.
Flushing hotly, I slipped out of my underwear and added it to the pile of dirty clothes. I turned slowly, forcing myself not to cover my groin. He was refocused on his phone, but he glanced up as I faced him fully.
“I’m gonna shower,” I said, scratching the back of my neck.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, though I didn’t move toward the bathroom.
He didn’t look disgusted by my nakedness, but he wasn’t turned on either. Not that I expected that. I was used to Jai and Noel looking at me like I was their next meal when I stripped for them. So Gideon’s calm observation was odd. But there was warmth there. Not heat, not lust, but warm fondness.
I smiled. He smiled back. His cheeks were pink, but his green eyes never wavered. I walked to the bathroom with an extra confident spring to my step.
When I stepped out of the shower ten minutes later, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Gideon leaning against the sink counter. “Oh my God! How long have you been there?”
“A couple minutes,” he said.
“You can’t just peep on me in the shower,” I chided as I dried myself off, and he laughed.
“I didn’t peep.” He sounded aghast at the accusation, and when I cocked a disbelieving eyebrow, he picked up a familiar shaving brush and straight razor from the sink counter. “I was waiting.”
Grinning like an idiot, I tied my towel around my hips and approached him. “Are you going to shave me again?”
“If you’d like.”
“Yes, please,” I said sweetly.
He pecked my lips, and joy swooped through my gut as he lifted me up and plopped me on the counter.
Foaming the shaving gel in a bowl, he coated the brush, then smeared it across my face. I opened my legs and smiled when he didn’t hesitate stepping forward until he stood between my knees. He tilted my head and placed the blade against my skin. It scraped, and goosebumps pebbled on my arms and the back of my neck.
He shaved my face, my jaw, and under my chin. Carefully, he swiped the blade over my upper lip until it was fuzz-free. Wiping my face clean of shaving gel, he patted aftershave on my cheeks. It tingled.
“Do you need to shave?” I asked, secretly hoping he wouldn’t. He had a few days of scruff on his cheeks, and I loved it. There were reds and browns mixed in with the dark blond hairs on his chin. I wanted to rub my neck against his jaw until my skin was burned red from the stubble.
“I thought I might let it grow a bit,” he said nonchalantly, but a knowing smile graced his lips.
“Mind-reader,” I accused.
“Never.” He kissed my cheek, dragging a finger down the left scar on my back, then stepped out from between my legs. “I’m going to shower. Then we can read together if you like.”