Chapter 14 Valencia
Valencia
It’s Friday, my last day of work for the year, and I spend it dissecting my conversation with Gideon.
The small part of me that worried this was just a prolonged hate-fuck has been laid to rest. But when he asked what we were doing, all I could hear was Everett’s voice, saying shit like, “Why be in a relationship if you’re not going to make time for it?”
Sure, things are great with Gideon now , but what happens in the new year when I’m neck-deep in projects again?
Because it doesn’t matter how much I enjoy being with him, or that my heart skipped a beat when he said he liked me.
Making a joke was easier than facing his earnest declaration or trying to continue this and realizing we can’t make it work.
But we have tickets tonight for the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, one of Gideon’s only holiday suggestions for our list. Even with my thoughts in turmoil, I’m looking forward to it.
For the occasion, I buy a long-sleeved wrap dress in emerald green velvet, a nod to the one I wore in eighth grade. I cover it up with my black wool coat and take the subway to meet Gideon at an Italian restaurant in Rockefeller Center.
When he sees me in the dress, his jaw goes slack. “God, look at you. Did you wear this for me?”
The rasp in his voice and his stunned expression make my pulse race.
“Maybe,” I say primly, taking the seat he’s pulled out. The hungry look he sends me has nothing to do with the scents of garlic and basil in the air.
Still, the meal is delicious, and after we leave, we stop to take selfies in front of Rockefeller Center’s eighty-foot Christmas tree.
Gideon stands behind me, his arms wrapped around my middle and his cheek pressed to mine. Even though my arms are far shorter than his, I extend one and hold my phone out to take the photo. With my other hand, I cup the side of his face.
“Smile.”
He does.
The photo is so perfect, it hurts.
“Send it to me,” he says, and then he catches my hand in his and pulls me down the sidewalk toward Radio City Music Hall.
I’ve never seen the Rockettes perform live, and the show is aptly named because it is indeed a spectacle .
There’s dancing and singing, music and projections, and a whole lot of Santas.
At one point, when I look over at Gideon, I could swear his eyes are glittering.
But after it’s over and I ask him what he thought, all he says is, “A little cornier than I remembered. But the production was incredible, and the synchronization is truly impressive.”
I suspect the show affected him more than he’s letting on, so as we wait for our ride, I aim for irreverence.
“You should join the Rockettes.”
That jolts him out of his reverie. “I should what?”
“You heard me.” I poke his thigh. “They’re like a flock of beautiful flamingos, and you’d fit right in with these killer gams.”
Just as I hoped, he bursts into laughter, so I keep it up. “What’s it like having long legs? That’s not a joy I’ll ever experience.”
He gazes down at me with a fond smile. “I like your legs exactly as they are.”
I melt a little inside. “Right answer.”
The car brings us back to my place, where I pour us glasses of red wine. We sit on my sofa with Archie purring between us. Gideon has loosened his tie, but there’s tension in the lines of his face and the set of his broad shoulders.
I stretch my arm over the back of the couch and stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch.
“Was it difficult? Seeing the show?” A week ago I wouldn’t have asked, but I haven’t known him for a week, I’ve known him for sixteen years. And right now, I feel closer to him than anyone else in my life.
I don’t question why that’s true. It just is.
“It was more ... complicated ... than I was expecting.” He opens his eyes, his gaze solemn. “I’m glad you were with me.”
My mouth tightens into a little frown. “Maybe we should’ve done something else.”
“No. It was a perfect night.” Despite his words, frustration colors his tone. “I’m just ... me, I guess. And no matter where I go, or what I’m doing, I can’t leave all my bullshit behind.”
My heart breaks, even as I leap to defend him. “It’s not bullshit. You’re allowed to have feelings, even complicated ones.”
He looks so forlorn I’m about to suggest we skip tonight’s other activity. But then he sets his wine down and with slow, deliberate movements, undoes the knot in his tie. His eyes never leave mine, and even though he hasn’t said anything, my heart rate speeds up.
He slides the column of charcoal gray silk from around his neck and holds it taut between his big, strong hands.
“Day 8,” he says in a deep voice. “Blindfold.”
In the past, just the idea of being blindfolded would’ve made me anxious. But I feel safe with Gideon, and I suspect that tonight, he needs me to show that I trust him.
So I lift my chin ever so slightly, and he takes it for the invitation it is.
The loss of one sense heightens the others, and after he lays me on my bed, I lose track of how many orgasms he wrings from me with his mouth and hands. He’s so careful, constantly checking in, and I’ve never felt more protected.
Finally, Gideon’s hips settle between my legs and his heavy cock rests on my mound.
“Let me in?” He must be out of his mind with need, but he says it tenderly.
I find the strength to hitch my thighs over his hips, nudging his taut ass with my heels.
I’m open and wet, more than ready for him.
His arms wind around my back and he plunges into me.
I cling to him like ivy on a brick wall, using my sense of touch to form a mental picture of him on top of me. In me.
And then I’m lost to everything except the pounding of his cock and the sweet words he whispers darkly in my ear.
“God, Valencia. Seeing you in that dress ... I wanted to tear it off you, right in the fucking restaurant. You are everything I’ve ever wanted. You know that? I’ll never get enough of you. Never, never, never .”
He punctuates the statement with thrusts, and I nearly burst with the sense of my own power. I do this to him. Me , Valencia Torres. His ferocity unleashes an answering force in me, and I thrash my head, loving the delicious tug on my scalp from his fist wrapped around my hair.
Without warning, he pushes off me. I experience a moment of uncertainty, not sure where he’s going, before he hitches up one of my knees. His hips pin me to the bed. The heel of his hand grinds circles against my clit as his strokes hit deep inside.
Oh, this is good. Too good. I’m unraveling in the dark, my hands scrabbling against his toned back.
“Come, my sweet little vixen,” he croons. “You can do it. Come for me.”
His hoarse whisper burrows into the place where all my unnamed feelings hide. For a second, I’m afraid they’ll spill out.
I rip off the blindfold, needing his face to ground me. Blinking in the soft light, I soak in the way he grits his teeth, the way his brow creases like he’s in pain, and then the way those luscious fucking lips form his next words.
“You have no goddamn clue what you do to me, Valencia.”
I don’t, but oh, I want to.
I can’t ask, though, because the orgasm bears down on me. I cry out, clenching around him. His whole body stiffens. He gives a series of powerful thrusts, then releases a staccato groan that echoes the tremors in my core.
With a heavy exhale, he drops to the bed, then gathers me against his side.
We’re panting and staring at each other, our faces just inches apart.
Something is different now. I don’t know what, or why, and part of me doesn’t want to know. Especially after I told him last night that we don’t have a future past the end of our list.
But the other part, the part that does understand what’s changed, speaks. “Stay here tonight.”
His voice is quiet when he answers, his expression raw and unguarded. “I want to. More than anything.”
I swallow hard. “But?”
“Today brought up a lot of memories. I need to run, and there’s a good chance I’ll toss and turn all night. I don’t want to subject you to that.”
My heart breaks for him. “I can handle it.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” He gives me a small smile. “Besides, you’re staying at my place tomorrow. I don’t want you to get sick of me.”
Never, I think, but I’m not ready to say it. Instead, I kiss the freckles on his nose. And when he pulls away to slide off the bed, I let him go.