Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Imogene
How was this possible? How was he here? I didn’t tell him I was in Atlanta. I hadn’t spoken to him since he stormed out of my townhouse in the early hours of yesterday morning. I must have been dreaming. Or I’d officially lost my mind.
Those were the only possible explanations for why Gideon Saint was currently standing in front of me, his body clad in a perfectly tailored designer suit that made him look as delicious as sin.
Just as deadly, too.
“Wha-what are you doing here?” I asked, snapping out of my shock.
“The same thing as you, it seems,” he replied coolly.
“Having a drink with your mother?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
His expression faltered. “I’m no longer afforded the opportunity, I’m afraid.”
“Right.” I winced, briefly squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“I’m in town on business,” he interrupted, saving me from having to make yet another apology. “And if I’m being honest, I was stalking your social media profile when I noticed you post a photo of you and your mother in this very bar. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I couldn’t help but think it was a sign. Or fate.”
“Fate?” I repeated, reminded of the barista’s words.
“Perhaps.” He gestured toward my mom’s vacant chair. “May I?”
I glanced past him and toward the hallway leading to the restrooms. My mom gave me an encouraging smile, along with an exaggerated wink before refocusing her attention on her phone.
One thing was certain. I had the coolest mom around. I didn’t know many other women my age whose mothers would be their wingman.
Or wingwoman.
Returning my attention to Gideon, I nodded. “Sure.”
“Thank you.”
He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slid into the barstool, his eyes focused forward, his expression pensive as my pulse steadily increased. The air between us crackled with the same intensity it always had. But tonight it felt even more powerful. Even more explosive.
Even more dangerous.
When I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take the mounting tension, he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, too.”
“What?” I furrowed my brow. “Why? You have nothing to apologize for, Gideon. I was?—”
He grabbed my hands in his, the warmth of his touch seeping into my marrow.
“You’ve been through a lot over the past few days. Honestly, I don’t know how I’d react if I learned the fingerprints of someone I cared for and who was supposed to be dead were recently found on a glass. I’d probably be clinging to hope just like you are, even though I know it’s not possible.”
“It’s still no?—”
“Do you remember what I told you?” he interrupted.
“You’ve told me a lot of things.” I bit my bottom lip. “Some of which I’m not sure I can repeat in public.”
He flashed me a conniving grin, the heat in his stare causing my core to clench, especially when he leaned closer, his gaze dipping to the cleavage of my dress.
“And I’ll happily say all those things to you again.” He lingered for a beat before pulling back, his expression turning serious once more. “I told you I didn’t mind you bringing up your past or Samuel. That your past made you into the woman you are now.”
He moved a hand to my cheek and gently cupped it.
“That still remains true, Imogene, despite my behavior. I am still falling for that woman. More every damn minute. If there’s anyone who should apologize, it’s me. I fucked up.”
“So did I. Like I said in my text, I have trouble trusting people. I’m always looking for an ulterior motive for why someone would be interested in me.”
“I’d be lying if I said my intentions have always been pure.” His gaze roamed over me with a possessive hunger.
“Is that right?” I retorted in a husky voice, squeezing my thighs together to dull the throbbing need filling me from his proximity. His voice. His scent.
“I do quite enjoy making you come, Imogene,” he whispered in a low, gravelly voice that made my entire body ache for his touch. “It gives me immense…pleasure. The way you move. The way you feel. There’s nothing better.”
When he inched toward me, my lips parted as the promise of his kiss hung in the space between us. But instead of giving me what I’d been craving since he left yesterday morning, he pulled back, leaving me a frustrated bundle of need.
“But that’s not why I like spending time with you,” he stated, taking my hand in his and brushing my knuckles. “I like spending time with you because you make me feel alive. I forgot what that was like,” he mused absentmindedly as he studied our joined hands. “So maybe we give this another shot,” he suggested, his voice stronger once more. “And this time, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we don’t get into another argument.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” I smirked, playfully waggling my brows.
“No?” He tilted his head.
“Because then we’d miss out on having makeup sex.” I curved toward him. “And Gideon?”
“Yes?” His voice cracked.
There was something incredibly powerful about the idea that I was able to get under his skin. When I first met him, especially after witnessing him take out my attacker, I thought he was invincible. Infallible. A god living amongst mortals.
Instead, he was just like everyone else.
Just as scarred as everyone else.
His were just more visible than most.
“I really like makeup sex,” I murmured, my breath kissing his lips.
Without a single care for the fact we were surrounded by dozens of people, Gideon gripped the back of my neck and slammed his mouth against mine, his tongue teasing and torturing. I whimpered, drowning in his kiss after too long without it.
“Goddamn, the sounds you make drive me crazy,” he growled against my lips before taking them in another rough and desperate kiss, only to pull away moments later, leaving me panting and hungry for more.
“Check, please.” His strong voice carried through the darkened space as he signaled the bartender, the power and dominance he exuded causing a shiver to roll through me.
“But my mom,” I protested, suddenly remembering why I was here in the first place. “I can’t ditch her.”
As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my clutch. I retrieved it, laughing to myself when I read her text.
Mom:
I took an Uber home. Enjoy your evening with Gideon. I don’t expect to see you home until tomorrow morning. That’s an order.
“I may have the best mom ever. She’s pretty much demanding I have sex with you.” I turned my phone toward him.
“You really shouldn’t disobey your mother. Otherwise, you might be punished.”
“And we wouldn’t want that.” I leaned toward him and trailed a light finger down his chest, stopping just short of his crotch. “Would we?”
“Goddammit,” he groaned, his jaw tense, nostrils flaring. “Where is the fucking check? You know what? Screw it.”
He jumped to his feet and retrieved several large bills from his wallet, slamming them onto the counter. Then he hauled me off my stool and out of the bar, his strides long and determined as he pulled me down the sidewalk, his calloused hand clasped tightly around mine.
“Slow down,” I gasped through my laughter as I struggled to keep up, especially in these heels.
But he didn’t slow down. Instead, he stopped abruptly and took in my appearance, his ravenous eyes flaming as they roamed over my body, from the short blue dress to my ample cleavage, all the way down to my exposed legs.
Before I could react, he swept me into his arms and carried me as if I weighed nothing.
“What are you doing?”I squealed through even more laughter, my heart expanding when I heard a few women remark how they wished their significant other would do something as romantic as this.
“You were having trouble keeping up with me. So I’m carrying you. Problem solved.”
“In a rush to get somewhere?” I flirted.
His blue eyes turned even darker as he narrowed them on me. “You have no idea.”