Chapter 24
It takes me less than five minutes to walk to his condo building. We couldn’t have planned to live more conveniently close to one another.
“Gideon Stone,” I say to the doorman, who calls up.
“Ninth floor,” he says, gesturing me to the elevator bank.
I opted for a short, pale pink, cowl neck sweater dress, a sexy casual look for our sexy casual date.
It’s currently hidden by my down parka jacket.
While it’s almost April, soup couldn’t be a more perfect meal for today’s below-freezing weather.
Chicago winters always make me question why I love this city. They’re brutal.
Finding unit 903, I knock. “It’s unlocked,” he calls out from behind the door. Turning the handle, I take a deep breath to mitigate some of the anxious, sexual pent-up energy I have at seeing him again.
The condo is immediately fragrant and far whiter than I had anticipated. White walls, white furniture, everything is white. The open floor plan fits his vibe, but everything else doesn’t. It’s sterile compared to his cool office and the property I toured with him.
“Smells amazing,” I say, pulling out a bottle of bourbon from my bag and placing it on the kitchen counter.
“You didn’t have to bring anything.” He smiles, making his way toward me. A black apron covers his snug gray V-neck and dark wash jeans. “I’m happy you didn’t already have plans tonight,” he whispers before placing an electric kiss on my lips.
“Me, too,” I manage, barely being able to stop at that kiss and not rip his clothes off.
“Sit.” He points at the dining room table. “Dinner is almost ready.”
“Are you a serial killer?” I jokingly ask as I sit on a white dining chair. “What’s with all the white?”
He chuckles. “I didn’t decorate, and I’m barely here anyways.”
“Was this like the model unit?”
“No. The design choices were heavily influenced by Pinterest and someone lacking inspiration.”
“Shots fired.” I giggle. “I’m guessing you’re not talking about an interior designer.”
“Correct. This was someone else’s vision.”
We’re quickly getting into deep waters. It’s too soon to be talking about our pasts. I swiftly change the subject. “Matzo ball … Is it a family recipe?”
“It’s a Jewish staple,” he says, taking vegetable and charcuterie trays out of the fridge and setting them in front of me on the dining room table. “It’s the best thing to eat on cold days.”
“So, you’re Jewish?”
“Real estate, matzo ball soup, my name, thick black hair … Isn’t it obvious?” he teases.
I shrug, and he takes a taste of the soup.
“Don’t worry.” He winks. “You won’t have to convert.”
“So presumptuous since this is our last date,” I sass, deflecting his comment.
“This is how it’s going to be, huh?”
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.
“You being a little brat needing some punishment.”
Oh my God. “Pour me a drink already,” I say, hoping to end this dangerous exchange.
He smiles, grabbing two glasses. I could watch this man move around all damn day. The way his triceps flex as he reaches for the glasses. Even through his T-shirt, I see a line down his back, hugged by muscles. He is fucking hot.
“I’m not religious, by the way, but culturally, I’m Jewish,” he says, setting a glass of whiskey in front of me and clinking his with mine.
We both take a sip, staring into each other’s eyes. I like that he’s relaxed and in his element. I’m watching for jaw clenches. It’s his tell.
“I’m not religious either.”
“Good.” He sips his bourbon, staring intently into my eyes, then makes his way back into the kitchen.
“Why is that good?”
“It won’t be a deal-breaker for us.”
“For us?” These little provocations are turning me on more than they should.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he says, pouring the soup, then carries the two extra-large bowls over to the dining room table.
Gideon devours his soup while we talk and share fun facts like neither of us has any tattoos, he likes to cook to destress, and I barely know how to cook.
“What about siblings?” I ask.
“I have a younger brother. He moved back to Israel last year and works for a tech company.”
“Moved back?”
“Yeah. I was born there. We moved to the States when I was fourteen.”
“Now I know why your voice is so cool.”
He shrugs in a familiar way. It’s the kind of shrug I make when I’m done talking about something. There’s definitely more meat on that bone, but not for tonight.
“Do you have siblings?” he asks.
“I’m an only child.”
“Makes sense, brat.”
I swat his arm. “Whatever, I’m not that bad.”
“Says who?”
I giggle, unsure how to respond, and slurp my soup.
The little quips continue as he shares his distaste for pretty much all sports. I like bantering with him.
“That was yummy,” I say, pushing my bowl away from me.
“You sure? It looks like you barely touched it. You might like the soup better tomorrow as leftovers.”
My phone flashes a new text from Adam.
Adam Harris
When can I see you again?
I quickly glance at it before turning my phone screen down on the table. He isn’t going to distract me tonight.
“I liked it! If this bowl weren’t a million ounces, you would be able to see I ate a lot.”
“I upgraded all of my dishes to accommodate larger portion sizes,” Gideon shares, grabbing my hand. “For the last year, I’ve been really focused on gaining muscle.”
“You lift?” I tease, squeezing his firm biceps.
He laughs. “I’ve always been a skinny guy and wanted to know what it would be like to be jacked.”
“It’s working for you. Show me a before pic.”
Taking his phone from his pocket, he scrolls until his expression shifts slightly.
“What?”
“It’s a good before pic, but my ex is in it.”
I extend my palm toward him. “Show me.” He sets the phone in my hand, and my eyes go immediately to this insanely perfect woman in a bikini. She’s a combination of Middle Eastern and Eastern European with tan skin, long jet-black hair, and snake-like green eyes. She’s also perfectly toned.
“Well, she’s beautiful.” Then, my eyes trail to the man holding her, Gideon. His body is more similar to Adam’s—lean and toned. “I wouldn’t call you skinny,” I say, looking at the photo.
“I’ve spent more time in the gym since the breakup,” he admits. Is that vulnerability on his face?
I lean into him. “I’m very into your gains.”
He bites his lip. “I’m very into having you for dessert … again.”
This man! This buff, brooding man.
“Did you follow the rules?” I ask, flirting.
He smirks but doesn’t respond.
“Have you…” I ask, truly wanting to know. “… since the last time I saw you?”
“That was your rule,” he growls.
“You don’t believe in parity?” I stand up to clear dinner.
He huffs a laugh, and his hand squeezes the back of my thigh as I gather the dishes. “You don’t have to play housewife. Other roles turn me on more.”
Other roles! Yes, Daddy.
I release the dishes and pivot, staring at him. I take in his rich hazel eyes and strong jaw before squeezing his cock over his jeans. “I need this,” I whine.
“Third date.”
“I need it.” I pout before dropping to my knees.
“Dani,” he warns.
“I believe in parity,” I say, undoing his belt. “I should get dessert too.”
Gideon squeezes my arms, trying to stop me. “Dani,” he says, pained.
“Let me suck your fucking cock.”
A smile tugs at his lips, his protests fading as he leans back. Lifting his hips, he allows me to slide his jeans and briefs down. Of course it’s huge. I don’t hold back, taking him deep, sucking and licking. I look up after hearing his breathing grow heavier.
“So perfect,” he praises, grabbing a fistful of my hair.
Swirling my tongue on his tip, I tease him before deeply bobbing again. This cock is so much thicker than Adam’s.
“Good girl.” He grunts, tightening his grip. I refocus, pushing Adam out of my thoughts.
The subtle Dom/sub language is making me wet. I like playing this character.
“Your mouth,” he pants. “Dani … Take all of it.” He begins to control my head with his hand. “You’re about to make me come. Swallow it,” he says, tensing before spewing into my mouth. I take his release and look up at him before giving my lips a quick wipe.