Chapter 11 #3
“Wait!” I pull back from the kiss, although it’s seriously one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. “Let me turn over.” I want to have traction to thrust back this time.
Gideon lets me go for the three seconds it takes to flip over and get on my hands and knees, and then he’s making that growling sound that gets me so hot and—
“Did you just bite my ass?” I look over my shoulder at him.
“Yes. And if I wasn’t so desperate to get inside you, I’d do it again.” His big, blunt fingers test my opening. “Fuck. Where’s the lube?”
For a split second, I consider telling him to do me without it.
After all, shifters heal fast, right? But he’s already up and in the kitchen, yanking open the pantry.
Moments later he’s back with a bottle of olive oil.
The sharp scent fills my nostrils, and I just know I’m never going to be able to cook with it again without remembering this moment.
And then Gideon is sliding into me, filling me up, and all thoughts of cooking vanish. He’s not as careful with me this time, probably because I’m not human anymore, and I love that he doesn’t need to hold back.
“Good?” he grunts, and I don’t answer, just shove back on him. We both moan at the sensation, and then he’s taking back control, his fingers hard on my hips as he draws back and pistons into me over and over.
The upside of this second puberty thing? My dick has no need of manual stimulation. I’m coming before I know it, so hard that I can’t breathe, that I clamp down on Gideon and he yells as he spurts inside me.
Finally my muscles relax and I can take in air. A moment later, Gideon carefully pulls out, and I collapse to the floor, rolling onto my back, panting.
For the second time today, I stare up at a ceiling.
I just had sex with Gideon Bailey again.
Heart-stopping, breath-stealing, sweaty sex.
That was fucking amazing.
“That was incredible,” Gideon says, sounding a little short of breath himself. I feel a ridiculous surge of pride that I did that to him.
“Yeah.” I can’t argue. “Uh, could we not let it make things weird?” Because we still have to work together.
“No weirdness,” he agrees. “Especially if we can do it again.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” I don’t even need to think about it. “But, ah, could we be… discreet?”
I feel him go still beside me. In the next second, he’s propping himself up on an elbow and looking down at me. “Discreet?” His expression has gone back to resting bitch face.
“Well, yeah,” I reply, a little uncertain. “I mean, it would be awkward at work…” His face doesn’t change. “Andrew, for one, would never let us hear the end of it.”
In one swift move that I envy greatly, he goes from lying to standing, towering over me.
I stare up at him wistfully. I’m going to look like a clumsy idiot clambering to my feet.
I really didn’t want to remind him of my lack of grace quite so soon after we blew each other’s minds, but I sense some sort of confrontation looming, and lying naked on the floor puts me at a distinct disadvantage.
Sighing, I plant my hands by my hips and heave to sitting in preparation for the awkward scrabble upright. To my surprise, I flow smoothly into a crouch and then stand without needing to grab anything for balance or leverage.
Wow. I guess my shifter abilities have kicked in. This is way cool!
Grinning, I look up at Gideon to share my excitement—I’m no longer a klutzy human!—but his glower quickly kills my smile. Right. He’s pissed about something. About me wanting to be discreet.
“Gideon, you’ve got to tell me what you’re thinking,” I declare bluntly. “I don’t want the whole office gossiping about us fucking, and honestly, I thought you’d feel the same. From everything I’ve seen, you’ve always been private about your sex life.”
If anything, his face just becomes more grim. I’m suddenly incredibly aware that we’re standing naked in my living room, our clothes scattered around us, and our colleagues due to arrive at some random time over the next hour. We really should get dressed and cleaned up.
As if he reads my mind, he bends over and picks up his boxer briefs and puts them on with sharp, jerky motions, very unlike him.
I keep my mouth shut and follow suit, even though mine are still wet and sticky—I have a feeling this will go better if my bits aren’t exposed. Or at least, I’ll feel less vulnerable.
But once we’re dressed, Gideon heads for the door.
“Hey!” Suddenly I’m pissed off. Fine, he’s angry about something I’ve said or done.
But I’ve said I want to work it out, and he’s not even going to try.
Instead, he’s going to leave me here not knowing what the fuck is going on while he goes and sulks somewhere, and I’m not okay with that. “Don’t you fucking dare leave!”
He freezes just steps away from the door, his back to me. I hold my breath. Is he going to leave, or will he stay and talk so I’m not confused out of my mind when the rest of the team turns up?
He turns. His regular blank glower is firmly in place. “You’re right. Until we know what’s going on and if anyone is looking for you, you shouldn’t be alone.”
I stamp my foot, because yes, I’m at three-year-old-having-a-tantrum level of mad. “That is not why I want you to stay, you dickweed! Tell me what crawled up your ass in the last five minutes.”
“There’s nothing up my ass, as you so charmingly put it.”
I narrow my eyes. That smug, supercilious tone of voice is not helping. “Want me to shove my foot up there?”
The glower cracks, replaced by a smirk. “I’d like to see you try.”
For a second, I actually consider it. But, sadly, even though I’m now a super cool cat shifter, I don’t have a grip on my new abilities, and he’s still way bigger than me anyway.
“This is stupid,” I say instead, swallowing my anger. “I don’t even understand why you’re mad.”
“Really? You really don’t understand?” He scoffs disbelievingly, but I shrug.
“No. I don’t. One second everything is fine, and the next, you’ve got some bug up your ass because… what? You want to brag to the office that we’re fucking? I just don’t get it.”
His jaw literally drops. Like, his mouth is wide open enough that I could shove a hot dog in there, bun and all.
Or something else…
Pushing aside the naughty little voice, I start to ask what the matter is now , but I’m interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. “Sam! Gideon? It’s me.”
Impossible to mistake Andrew for anyone else, and his timing is typical.
Crap. Aside from being in the middle of a very important conversation, I really need to use the bathroom—pulling on underwear right after sex without a condom is not ideal.
Plus, the place stinks of sex, something that’s much more apparent to me now that I have a shifter sense of smell.
Before I can yell for Andrew to come back in half an hour, Gideon has closed his mouth, pivoted, and is opening the door.
“Fuck,” I mutter, turning and beelining to the hallway.
“I’ll be back,” I call over my shoulder.
I can’t deal with Andrew without cleaning up first. As I escape to the bathroom, I can hear him asking Gideon what we’ve been up to with a gloating, amused undertone.
Damn my improved hearing. I’d prefer not to have heard that.
When I rejoin them (after procrastinating for as long as I could, but unfortunately, there wasn’t much to do in the bathroom, especially since Gideon seems to have rearranged it again while I was unconscious), Andrew smirks at me from where he’s planted himself on the couch and says, “Glad to see you’re back in top form. ”
Ugh. “Thanks.” This is exactly why I didn’t want people to know. The not-so-subtle jokes will be next. For some reason, people feel it’s okay to joke about your sex life as long as you’re not in a relationship with the person you’re having sex with.
I’m about to change the subject and ask him what the fuck is going on at the office when he holds up a box. “I got your new phone.”
“Oh.” Gideon must have texted him while I was talking to Alistair earlier. “Uh, thanks. How much do I owe—"
“Don’t worry about it.” He hands me the box with one hand and waves the other dismissively. “I’ll put in an expense claim for it. We can’t have you unable to use your phone.”
I sink down onto the ottoman and pick at the shrink wrapping on the box for a second before giving up. I’m not going to fumble with this now. Setting the box on the coffee table, I smile at Andrew. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” He grins and glances between me and Gideon. “So—”
“Do you want something to drink?” I offer desperately. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any blood on hand, but I could get you a soda or something? Coffee? Or Alistair put some brew in the fridge.”
His grin widens, and he cocks a silver eyebrow. “Brew? Really?”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “Yeah. I’m hoping it won’t ever affect me that way again, but I won’t know until I try it, and apparently, I’m not supposed to do that just yet.”
He nods. “Until we can be sure there’s no remaining issues from your time as a human and the forced shift, it’s better to be safe, I guess. But now I’m wildly curious to see how you’d react.” He tips his head and studies me. “How are you feeling?”
Awkward, this is very awkward. Especially with Gideon glowering at us from the kitchen. “Uh, fine. Listen, I’m really sorry about how I was acting in the office. I know you and the others wouldn’t hurt me.”
He pats my knee. “Yeah, we know. Don’t worry about it. And I’m sorry I had to put the whammy on you. I’d normally never—”