Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
SADIE
When he spotted Lola being marched into Marswood Security, Connor folded like a cheap suit.
The whole story came blubbering out of him—how he, Glenn, and Lola didn’t want to be subjected to arranged marriages.
How they’d concocted a plan to make the town look unappealing.
How they targeted family properties because they didn’t want to get other people involved, other than a select few who annoyed them.
Ivan Popov had been rude to Lola, for example, and Glenn had tagged his shop in retaliation.
I watched Gideon bear the weight of the confession. He was quiet as we made our way up to his apartment on the top floor. I tried to reach him with soft touches and comments, but he remained closed off. I’d never seen him so withdrawn.
We ate dinner, watched TV, and got ready for bed in silence. Finally, when we’d lain beside each other for an hour, I couldn’t resist any longer. “Talk to me.”
Gideon pretended to sleep for a second, then gusted out a breath. “My own family,” he said. Grief threaded through his voice, and my heart ached for him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re the only one who was able to figure it out. The rest of us were blind.”
“I wish I’d been wrong.”
“They’re not the kids I thought they were,” he said, voice dark.
His tone worried me. I could hear the weight of all his pain behind it.
All the ways he felt betrayed. But Lola, Connor, and Glenn weren’t criminal masterminds.
They were teenagers with underdeveloped frontal lobes and poor impulse control.
Yes, they should be made to bear consequences for their actions—but I didn’t want Gideon to exile them from his own family.
Speaking gently, I said, “We all did stupid things when we were teenagers. At least we know they’re not the ones who threatened me.
” It had been very clear from their denials that they had nothing to do with that.
Connor’s fear had been thick in the air as he swore up and down that they had nothing to do with the threats against me.
Glenn had cried. Lola had looked devastated.
“So they say,” Gideon growled. He lay on his stomach, and his voice was muffled in the pillows.
I sighed, curling up on my side beside him.
I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling his body soften bit by bit.
Finally, he turned around, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me close.
It was the first time he’d hugged me since the moment he’d pulled the can of spray paint out of Lola’s bag.
I sighed into his touch, some of the stress I hadn’t even registered easing out of my body.
“Are you upset that they lied to you?” I asked. The streetlamp outside his window sent light slanting against the wall. I traced the edges of it with my eyes while I listened to the sound of Gideon’s heartbeat.
“Yes,” he replied. “Connor used my company to vandalize my town. He pretended to work on finding Mr. Titty while deleting or recording over half a dozen shots of him and Glenn and Lola. I trusted him, and he betrayed me. My own family.”
I stroked Gideon’s chest. I sensed that he didn’t want solutions or even commiseration. He just needed time to sort through his thoughts and feelings. His hand slid up and down my arm as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. I could feel the tension in his body. The hurt.
Finally, he sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”
I stroked the hair off his forehead and cupped his cheek so he’d meet my gaze. “The worst thing you can do is ice them out,” I told him.
He scowled. “I’m supposed to pretend what they did was fine? Using my trust to run around vandalizing the town? Lying to me over and over again?”
“You don’t pretend it’s fine,” I said. “You come up with consequences. Make them clean up or repaint over every single pair of boobs they sprayed onto the walls of the town. Make them make a public apology. Don’t let Connor into your command center until he’s learned his lesson and you’re sure you can trust him—that’ll hurt him more than anything.
But don’t make them feel like outsiders in their own family.
Especially when the family is woven into the fabric of this town.
It’s their home, Gideon. They were just afraid of losing it. ”
His eyes flicked between mine, and I knew that he could hear everything I’d left unsaid. He always did.
“The way your family made you feel like an outsider because you weren’t married,” he murmured.
“It really freaking hurts to feel like an outcast,” I whispered. “Especially when you’ve got nowhere else to go.”
He clicked his tongue and pulled me closer, then he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You’ve got somewhere now,” he said. “You belong right here.”
He kissed my lips, and in that kiss I felt the hugeness of his emotion for me. I hoped he felt the same when I kissed him back. This wounded, gentle, kind, protective man was the most incredible person I’d ever met. He was the love of my life.
As he shifted me onto my back and propped himself above me, I let that realization settle into my bones. The love of my life. The man I’d married. The person I wanted to spend the rest of my days with.
With my hands draped over his shoulders, I couldn’t help the smile that curved my lips.
“Are you smiling because you know you’ve won?” he growled. “I’ll go easy on them,” he added, disgusted with himself.
My grin widened. “That wasn’t why I was smiling, no, but I’m glad to hear it.”
“Can’t say no to you,” he complained, and dropped a trail of kisses down my neck. I shivered, spreading my knees so he could settle between them. He was hard, his erection pressing against my stomach.
All at once, I realized I was ready.
“Gideon,” I whispered, kissing his jaw, his ear, his shoulder—any bit of skin I could reach. “Gideon,” I repeated when all he did was grunt in response.
He pulled away. “You want me to stop?”
My chest cracked wide open, exposing my beating heart. I was so in love with this man. I smiled at him and shook my head. “No. I want to try.”
It took him a second to understand. I had to roll my hips against his hardness, and then his eyes finally widened. “You’re sure?”
I nodded.
“Sadie—” A shudder went through him, and he dove down to kiss me harder.
His hands palmed at my sides, running up to squeeze my breasts.
He pulled the strap of my camisole down off my shoulder and took my nipple in his mouth.
He kissed me there, his hips bucking, and I melted into the mattress beneath him.
He wore only a pair of pajama bottoms, and I had on a camisole and loose sleep shorts. So it took only a few seconds to strip off our clothes, and then it was all his warm golden skin on mine. It felt like heaven.
My heart began to thump. Nervousness and anticipation wrapped like a fist around my heart. A lump jammed itself in my throat, and all I could do was pant and moan and whimper.
Gideon took his time, even though I could see how much he wanted me in the throbbing between his legs.
The head of his cock was nearly purple, seeping liquid onto the blankets.
He ignored his own needs as he buried his face between my legs, making me come with a cry before he even went near my opening.
When he slid a finger inside, his hand was shaking. He pressed a kiss to the soft flesh of my inner thighs, and I let out a trembling breath.
“Have I ever told you how much I love your pussy, Sadie?”
I huffed a laugh. “A few times, yeah.”
“So wet and hot and perfect.”
I sank into the pillows, my hand reaching down to stroke his hair.
He probed my entrance with a finger, slowly, slowly, slowly, until I shivered and whined for more.
Always ready to meet my needs, Gideon did as I asked.
Another finger joined the first, and the stretch was just this side of painful.
I wrapped my hands in the blankets and breathed.
“So beautiful,” he said, kissing the top of my slit. “I could just keep doing this all night.”
Tension slowly unwound from my body; I knew he was telling the truth.
As I relaxed, he stretched me. His fingers spread and scissored, and pleasure began to wind through the pit of my stomach.
Still, Gideon took his time. I tried not to think of what we were preparing to do, but the act loomed in my mind like a hulking shadow.
But I loved him. I trusted him. I could have penetrative sex with him. Why wouldn’t I? Why would my brain throw up barriers between us, when he was the man I most wanted to be with? The man who made me feel safer than I’d ever felt before?
He groaned as my body eased, and when he inhaled, his breath was unsteady.
I realized I’d closed my eyes, and I opened them now to look at him.
His dark head was bent between my legs, his muscles stark in the low light of the room.
His scars were lit by the streetlamp, muscle and sinew moving under the skin.
He was so beautiful. My husband. My love.
I reached down to touch his hair, and when I whispered his name, Gideon looked up. His eyes were black. Desire carved his features in stark relief. He was holding on by a thread.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
I panted out a few breaths and finally dipped my chin. Gideon searched my face for a moment, his fingers curling inside me, and I let out a breathless laugh. “Yes,” I finally said aloud. “Yes, I’m ready.”
It was the truth. I’d never felt so connected to another person. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to be able to do this with him, because he was the man I loved. He was my husband.
Slowly, Gideon moved. He reached into the bedside table and got a condom. Rolled it on. Paused. His chest heaved, and he closed his eyes as he knelt between my bent legs, as if it was almost too much for him to bear.