When we woke shortly after one in the afternoon, I was starving. We headed down to the kitchen together and I found that I liked the ultra-stark modern look in that space. The watered-glass cabinet doors and granite paired beautifully with the dark hardwood. Better yet, the pantry was fully stocked. There was no need to leave the house for anything.
We went the easy route and made sandwiches, which we took into the living room and ate cross-legged on the couch facing each other.
I was halfway through when I caught Gideon watching me with a grin.
“What?” I asked, around a bite.
“Arnoldo’s right. It’s fun watching you eat.”
“Shut up.”
His grin widened. He looked so carefree and happy it made my heart hurt.
“How did you find this place?” I asked him. “Or how did Scott find it?”
“I found it.” He shoved a potato chip in his mouth and licked the salt from his lips, which I found sexy as hell. “I wanted to take you away to an island, where no one could bother us. This is pretty close to that, without the travel time. I planned for us to fly down originally.”
I ate thoughtfully, remembering the long drive. As insanity-inducing as the trip had been, there was something exciting about the idea of him rearranging our schedule just to fuck me senseless over hours, using my need for him to face a truth I’d blocked. Imagining all the frustration and fury that must have driven his plans . . . his thoughts focused on unleashing all of that seething passion on my helpless, willing body . . .
“You’re getting that fuck-me look on your face,” he observed. “And you call me a sex fiend.”
“Sorry.”
“Not complaining.”
I rewound my thoughts to earlier in the evening. “Arnoldo doesn’t like me anymore.”
One dark brow arched. “You’re getting the fuck-me look and thinking about Arnoldo? Do I have to kick his ass now, too?”
“No. Jeez. I threw that out there to distract us from sex and because it needs to be addressed.”
He shrugged. “I’ll talk to him.”
“I think I should do it, for what it’s worth.”
Gideon studied me with those amazing blue eyes. “What would you say?”
“That he’s right. I don’t deserve you and I fucked up bad. But I’m crazy in love with you and I’d like a chance to prove to you both that I can be what you need.”
“Angel, if I needed you more, I couldn’t function.” He lifted my hand to his lips to kiss my fingertips. “And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. We’ve got our own rhythm and it works for us.”
“Does it work for you?” I grabbed my bottle of iced tea off the coffee table and took a drink. “I know it drains you. Do you ever think it’s just too hard or too painful?”
“You do realize how suggestive that sounds, right?”
“Oh my God.” I laughed. “You’re terrible.”
His eyes sparkled with amusement. “That’s not what you usually say.”
Shaking my head, I went back to eating.
“I’d rather argue with you, angel, than laugh with anyone else.”
Jesus. It took me a minute to be able to swallow the last bite in my mouth. “You know . . . I love you madly.”
He smiled. “Yes, I know.”
* * *
After we’d cleaned up the mess from lunch, I tossed the sponge into the sink and said, “I need to make my Saturday phone call to my dad.”
Gideon shook his head. “Not possible. You’ll have to wait ’til Monday.”
“Huh? Why?”
He caged me to the counter by gripping the edge on either side of me. “No phones.”
“Are you serious? What about your cell phone?” I’d left mine at home before we went to the concert, knowing I had no place to carry it and having no intention of using it anyway.
“It’s heading back to New York with the limo. No Internet, either. I had the modem and phones taken out before we got here.”
I was speechless. With all the responsibilities and commitments he had, cutting himself off for the weekend was . . . unbelievable. “Wow. When’s the last time you fell off the face of the earth like this?”
“Hmm . . . that would be never.”
“There have to be at least a half dozen people freaking out because they can’t run something by you.”
He lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “They’ll deal with it.”
Pleasure surged through me. “I have you all to myself?”
“Completely.” His mouth curved in a wicked smile. “What will you do with me, angel?”
I smiled back, ecstatically happy. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
* * *
We went for a walk on the beach.
I rolled up a pair of Gideon’s pajama bottoms and put on my white tank top, which was indecent since my bra was heading back to New York along with Gideon’s cell phone.
“I have died and gone to heaven,” he pronounced, checking out my chest as we strolled along the shore, “where the embodiment of every wet-dream, spank-bank fantasy of my adolescence is real and totally mine.”
I bumped my shoulder into his. “How do you go from devastatingly romantic to crude in the space of an hour?”
“It’s another one of my many talents.” His gaze dropped again to the prominent points of my nipples, which were hard from exposure to the ocean breeze. He squeezed my hand and gave an exaggerated happy sigh. “Heaven with my angel. It doesn’t get any better than this.”
I had to agree. The beach was beautiful in a moody, untamed way that reminded me a lot of the man whose hand I held. The sounds of the surf and the crying of the gulls filled me with a unique sense of contentment. The water was cold on my bare feet, and the wind whipped my hair across my face. It had been a long time since I’d felt so good, and I was grateful to Gideon for giving us this time away to enjoy each other. We were perfect together when we were alone.
“You like it here,” he noted.
“I’ve always loved being close to the water. My mother’s second husband had a lake house. I remember walking along the shore like this with her and thinking I’d buy something on the water for myself one day.”
He released my hand and draped his arm around my shoulders instead. “So let’s do it. How about this place? You like it?”
I glanced up at him, loving the sight of the wind sifting through his hair. “Is it for sale?”
He looked down the stretch of beach in front of us. “Everything’s for sale at the right price.”
“Do you like it?”
“The interior’s a little cold with all that white, although I like the master bedroom the way it is. We could change all the rest. Make it more us.”
“Us,” I repeated, wondering what that would be. I loved his apartment with its old world elegance. I think he felt comfortable at my place, which was more modern traditional. Combining the two . . . “Big step, buying a property together.”
“Inevitable step,” he corrected. “You told Dr. Petersen failure isn’t an option.”
“Yep, I did.” We walked a little farther in silence. I tried to figure out how I felt about Gideon wanting to have a more tangible tie between us. I also wondered why he’d choose joint property ownership as the way to achieve it. “So I take it you like it here, too?”