Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Zadie stood in the hallway with her back against her doorframe, throat suddenly dry.
He'd left.
He'd kissed her like he wanted her. Like his mouth was making promises of what was about to come, and then he’d stopped.
She stared at the wood grain as a combination of desire and anger filled her veins.
He'd left her standing in the hallway after she’d… shit. She hadn’t explicitly invited him into her room. But she thought she’d conveyed the concept.
She touched her fingers to her mouth. It tingled. Her lips still held the shape of his.
The way she saw it, she had two options.
She could go to bed. Pull up the covers, stare at the ceiling, and spend the next four hours replaying every second of the evening while pretending she was fine. She wasn't good at pretending.
Or she could bang on his door and tell him what she wanted.
She thought about those options for about as long as it took her to push out a long breath. Turning, she paused and made a fist.
Before her hand could connect with the door, it opened.
Gideon stood on the other side with his hand still on the knob.
His gaze locked with hers and the sensation of being on a rollercoaster made her sway.
He grabbed her wrist, pulled her across the threshold, and kicked the door shut behind her.
Her back hit the wall, and his mouth found hers before the sound of the latch had finished echoing off the concrete.
His tongue parted her lips like a missile seeking its target.
Fisting her hair with one hand, the other slid under her shirt, pulling her tighter against his body.
When she’d turned to knock on his door, she expected a conversation.
She anticipated telling him that she understood that life was uncertain and what happened in the bunker might not be forever and she was okay with that.
But that it didn't change how she felt.
Now that she had his attention, she wasn't about to stop. She wanted him and she made no apologies about that. She wanted to believe she could handle him walking away when the mission was over.
But believing something and it being true were two totally different things.
He broke off the kiss. His breathing ragged, his gaze burned into hers. "I'm sorry I left you out there."
"It was a little soul crushing."
"Is this what you want?" He traced her jaw. "Because if it's not—"
She grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands, turned his body, and shoved him against the wall. "I want this," she whispered. "I want you." She'd deal with the consequences later.
He kissed her again, deeper, hungrier, like the apology had lit a fuse. His stubble tickled her skin, but the way he touched her made her body come alive. Her nipples tightened. Her clit pulsed. She desired him in ways she’d never imagined.
She tugged at his shirt, the fabric bunching under her fists. He tasted like beer, and her head swam. He pressed back against the wall, and the thud of her own heartbeat drowned out every other sound. His hand slid to her jaw, then down over her throat, stopping there for a shivering second.
He hauled her leg up his hip wrapped it tightly around him. The shift made her shirt ride up. Cool air hit her stomach. His fingers danced over her waist and dipped under the elastic of her shorts.
He traced her lips with his tongue and then dragged down her chin to her throat. At first, he kissed her softly, then sucked on the spot right under her earlobe.
"Oh, God, yes."
He slipped his hand between her legs, and she met him there, shameless, rolling into his palm.
"You’re shaking," he murmured against her skin.
"Make it worse." She guided his fingers exactly where she wanted them—his slow pressure somehow careful and devastating at the same time. Her head knocked against the wall, and she bit down on her lower lip, trying desperately to control the moans growling from deep inside her throat.
"This is in the way," he said, pulling at the hem of her shirt.
She yanked it over her head, but it got stuck on her elbow.
"Let me help." He laughed against her throat, the sound so rough it burned.
He tugged the sleeve trapping her arm, his knuckles skimming her ribs.
The brush of his fingers against the edge of her bra made her breath hitch.
He glanced down, licking his lips, before covering her nipple, teasing her through the lace.
"Bra off."
He popped the clasp as if he'd been practicing in his spare time. The straps slid down her arms, a whisper of fabric that left her suddenly bare. He leaned back and stared at her. Devoured her without a single touch.
She held her breath, his gaze burning a path a cross her skin.
The physical part was supposed to be easy to walk away from.
But standing there, under the spell of his attention, dawning realization prickled along the nape of her neck.
If he chose to leave the bunker, she might have to learn to pretend she was fine without him because Gideon wasn't someone she'd easily get over.
Gently, he cupped her breast, and she arched into his palm. "Please."
He took one tight peak into his mouth. and she threaded her fingers into his hair, holding on as his tongue swirled over her nipple. "Oh, God." She rolled her hips as his finger glided across her clit in tender circles before diving inside her.
It was as if he knew exactly what she wanted before she had to guide him there. She'd once had a lover tell her she was too demanding. Too controlling. It had been the reason he'd broken up with her, though she hadn’t understood why until later.
However, it hadn’t changed anything. If she couldn't express what worked, then the relationship was doomed, anyway.
She gasped, her knees going loose as he continued to tease her. He caught her weight with his thigh and pinned her where she stood.
Tracing a path with his tongue, he lowered himself.
She stared at him as he lifted her knee over his shoulder and licked her. A deep, guttural groan escaped her lips.
The first sweep of his tongue knocked the breath from her. Heat flashed through her like a live wire, and her fingers scrambled for anything to hold. Cool concrete bit her palms.
"Gideon," she managed.
He flattened his tongue and dragged it up to circle her with maddening precision, that felt as if he’d learned it specifically for her.
Like he’d been studying. Like he’d been waiting.
She bucked, knee tightening around his shoulder as he pressed closer.
His hands pinned her hips to the wall, holding her there as if he planned to take his time and ruin her, anyway.
"Yes—God—yes." The noises coming out of her were not fit for neighbors or thin walls. But she didn’t care.
The world narrowed to the wet slide of him and the rough scrape of his jaw against her thigh.
He sucked, gently then not. Heat coiled so tightly, her lashes fluttered with the effort of keeping her eyes open—because she wanted to watch.
Reaching for him, she caught his hair and tugged needing more. He answered her with pressure that stole the ground out from under her, two fingers easing into her with patient strokes. Her muscles clenched around him, a desperate grip she couldn’t control. He exhaled against her.
She rolled with his rhythm, hips lifting to meet him. He found the spot that made her squirm and stayed there, hitting it on every stroke, like he'd cracked the code and was running it back. Her toes curled. The tension gathered low with each slick stroke of his tongue and deep curl of his fingers.
"I’m—" Her climax built too fast to be tidy, tearing through her like a circuit overloading. She came with a cry she couldn’t swallow.
Her thighs shook, and she dug her nails into his scalp like a helpless animal clinging to the thing destroying her.
He didn’t stop until her tremors eased. He groaned against her again, the sound ragged and dark, and the aftershocks rolled like thunder.
Her body went soft and boneless against the wall. She gasped. The room steadied. He kissed the inside of her knee, then then her calf, and each press left an invisible brand that made her shiver and laugh—breathless, shaky, borderline delirious.
He rose along her like a tide, mouth trailing heat over her stomach, her ribs, the underside of her breast. She captured his face in both hands when he finally made it up to her lips, tasting herself on him.
He backed her into the wall—all firm muscle with a hard ridge against her hip that made her knees go liquid.
"I need you," she said.
"Tell me how." The grit in his voice made everything inside her clench.
"In me." Her hand slid down between them, the metal button scraping her knuckles as she worked it free. Once she’d pushed past the denim, he was thick in her palm. He swore softly, forehead dropping to hers as if he needed the contact to keep it together.
"I have a condom in the nightstand." He kissed her temple. "Actually three. New pack when I hit the road two months ago. Unopened. It’s been a while."
"We’ll have to get Scout to buy more," she said. "Problem for a different day."
This was where she should hit pause. She should ask him what his plans were. Was he going to hang in the bunker for a while? Or was he going to hit the road as soon as he could?
But not only would that be a mood killer, it might end whatever they'd started before it truly began, and Zadie at least wanted a taste. No matter how hard it would be to let him go, she wanted to know what it was like to be with… him.
He chuckled. "Bed?" He cupped her chin in his palm. "Or right here? I’m not opposed to either."
"Bed," she said, because her legs still trembled, and she wanted him spread out under her hands. She wanted to crawl over him and take everything he kept offering. "Now." It was selfish. But she wanted to experience all of Gideon so she could file this moment away in her mind forever.