Chapter Ten Lena
Chapter Ten
Lena
“I need a sharp knife.”
Gideon’s eyebrow shoots up, and I can’t help but grin at him. He’s so freaking handsome.
“To open the boxes, not for nefarious acts.”
“Box cutter coming up,” he says and opens a drawer in the kitchen that’s obviously a junk drawer. Every home in America has one of these.
Except the White House. But that’s not a normal home.
“Be careful,” he warns me as he passes it to me, and I push the blade out with a triumphant grin. “Seriously.”
“Seriously, I’m twenty-four,” I remind him. “I’ve used a blade before. But maybe stay over there. Just in case. I wouldn’t want to accidentally draw blood.”
He chuckles, and the sound moves through me like music. I can probably count on two hands the number of times I’ve heard this man laugh in all the years that I’ve known him.
If he’d cracked a smile more often, or let out a chuckle like that, I would have been so gone over him, I would have humiliated myself on the daily.
But it was the hug earlier that made the butterflies erupt and my skin prickle, and my freaking vagina do the two-step.
Being held by Gideon James is an experience that everyone should have at least once in their lives, and yet, if one single woman were to touch him right now, I’d scratch her eyes out.
After I cut her hands off with this box cutter.
“You have a devious grin on that gorgeous face of yours.”
Wait. He thinks my face is gorgeous?
Since when?
“What were you thinking about?” he asks.
“Psh. Nothing.” I slice through the tape of the first box and rejoice when I find three pairs of jeans. “Thank God, denim in my actual size. The ones I’m wearing are about to sever me in half. My ass has grown. I think my kidneys are shutting down. Turn around.”
He lifts a brow. “What?”
“Turn. Around. I have to put these on. Everything else is getting washed before I wear it, but I’m trashing these torturous jeans that I’m wearing immediately. Maybe we’ll burn them. Incinerate them. They deserve it.”
He just stares at me.
“I’m going to strip, big guy. If you would please turn around, I’d appreciate it.” Shrugging, I pop the button on the fly, and he turns his back to me.
And what a backside it is.
Broad shoulders are encased in his black T-shirt, with muscles that ripple with every movement.
That back tapers to a slim waist and the best damn ass I’ve ever seen.
You could totally bounce a quarter off his ass.
His thighs are like tree trunks. No wonder he could carry me on his back for more than a mile.
My nipples tingle at that reminder.
Down, nipples.
I work the jeans over my hips and am shimmying back and forth, peeling them down my thighs, but suddenly they’re caught around my ankles, and I hop twice before I face-plant on the hardwood, narrowly missing breaking my nose.
“Ouch.”
“Shit, are you okay?”
“Don’t turn around.”
“Too late.”
I wince before opening my eyes and looking up at Gideon, who’s now standing over me, his eyes raking over my body.
My ass is in the air. Covered only in a pair of red satin panties circa seven years ago because the hoodie has ridden up my back.
And his eyes are pinned to my backside.
“Gideon?”
“Stay where you are.”
Narrowing my eyes, I push up onto my hands and knees, and he lets out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.
Or an army Ranger.
“Just get my feet untangled, and do not check out my ass.”
“Also too late.”
I whimper, but he’s suddenly at my feet, tugging on the legs of the denim until he wiggles them over my feet, freeing me.
“Thanks. Now, turn back around.”
“Not a chance in hell,” he replies. His voice is deeper now, almost growly, and I push up onto my feet and reach for the new jeans, begging my core to calm the hell down. “How did you get that scar?”
I pause before pushing my feet into the legs and twist so I’m looking back at my upper thigh and the white scar that spans from left to right.
“I was shaving in the shower and slipped. Cut myself on the way down.”
His jaw works and eyes heat with that explanation.
“So you’re saying you’re a fall risk. Do I need to have handrails installed everywhere in my house?”
“Har har. You’re funny. That cut hurt, too, but not nearly as bad as the nipples.”
I push my feet into the jeans and grin when I zip them up and they feel amazing.
“That’s so much better.”
“If you say so.”
“Are you flirting with me, big guy?”
I tilt my head to the side, set my hands on my hips, watching him.
“What happened to your nipples?”
“Huh?”
“You said it didn’t hurt as bad as the nipples. What happened?”
He’s slowly walking closer to me, and my breaths speed up with every step. His muscles are coiled tight, as if he’s going to strike.
I really want him to strike.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me.”
Pressing my lips together, I wince. “They’re pierced.”
He stops moving. His gray eyes go wide, and his jaw drops in surprise.
“Didn’t expect that, did you?”
“Your fucking nipples are pierced?” His gaze drops to my boobs, which are hidden beneath his hoodie.
“Yeah.” I shrug, reach for the knife, and resume opening boxes. After pulling out the contents, I toss the empty cardboard aside, getting excited with every new garment I uncover. “This is going to be so cute with leggings.”
“Why did you pierce yourself, Rebel?”
“I didn’t. Some guy did it. He was kind of cute, and very respectful.”
The air is thick with Gideon’s frustration at my answer.
“Why?”
I open another box and pull out two packages of underwear—thank God—and then set them aside to go in the wash before reaching for another box.
Why do they send everything separately? This is a lot of packaging.
“Lena.”
“Remember when you were gone for almost a month?”
The room goes silent.
“Go on.”
I clear my throat and slice open a box, internally rejoicing at the sight of fresh charcoal and pencils. The sketch paper and pads must be around here somewhere.
“So no one knows this. No one, Gideon.”
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I have the highest security clearance there is.”
“Yeah, well, I’m just saying. I mean, Chelsea and the piercing guy know, but that’s it. Oh, and Howey, but he didn’t like them. He was afraid of chipping a tooth.”
“Look at me.”
“Nope.” I shake my head and pull clothes out of their protective plastic bags. “I can’t look at you while I tell this story because you’re going to be so mad at me.”
“No, I’m not.”
I huff out a laugh and shake my head. “Yeah, okay. Chelsea wanted to meet up with this guy who owns a tattoo-and-piercing shop, but she wanted to go after hours because she had a crush on him, and she didn’t want my detail to follow us.
Which, in hindsight, was probably a good call because I did not need my guys seeing my nipples being pierced. ”
“Christ.”
“Anyway, she decided that we both should get tattoos. Not necessarily matching ones, but still have them done on the same night.”
I’m running out of boxes to open, and then I’m going to have to look at him, and I really don’t want to do that.
“I didn’t want a tattoo. It’s not that I would never get one, or have issues with them in any way. I love yours.”
I glance over and take in the sleeve that runs down his left arm.
Yeah, those are hot as shit.
“But I was only nineteen, and there wasn’t really anything I could think of to put on my skin for the rest of my life. A unicorn? No. A heart? Stupid. They had some premade designs that they tried to push on me, but nothing spoke to me.”
“It’s your fucking choice, Lena.”
“Exactly, so I said no thanks. No ink for me on that night. And I felt guilty for giving the guys the slip, like always, and Chelsea was annoying the hell out of me. The girl doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.
She just keeps badgering and poking and won’t let up.
Then, the guy mentions that I could get something pierced, since that’s not permanent if I don’t want to keep it. I could always take it out.”
I bite my lip, remembering how pressured I felt that night. I hated being there.
“And you chose your nipples.”
“I didn’t want it on my face, and there was no way in hell he was getting anywhere near my pussy.”
He swears some more.
“So yeah. I had the nipples done. And you know what? I like them.”
I turn and see his gaze whip over to mine in surprise.
“I thought I’d end up taking them out, but once they healed, which took a long-ass time, I liked them. I don’t love the way I got them, but I’m definitely keeping them.” I peek over at him.
“Why would this make me mad?”
“Because it was the night you got called back to DC after being gone for a few weeks. My nipples ruined your life that week, and I feel really bad.”
He’s quiet for a minute, and then he takes a deep breath and shakes his head.
“Never a dull moment with you, Rebel.”
He doesn’t look mad.
If anything, he looks a little . . . turned on.
“I’ll help clean this mess up.” I stare at the pile of boxes and wrappings as if it’s Christmas. “I just sort of tossed stuff around.”
“Go put your new clothes in the wash. I’ve got this.”
But I shake my head and dig in, helping him, and within five minutes we have the boxes broken down and everything else in a big trash bag, and we’re carrying it all out to his truck so he can haul it away later. We work silently, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence.
I just wish I knew what he was thinking.
“Do you mind showing me where the laundry room is?”
“Sure. Come on.”
I gather all my new clothes in my arms and follow Gideon up the stairs and down the hall past my bedroom to a gorgeous laundry room.
“This is nice.”
He nods. “There’s soap here, softener here. Everything you’ll need. Do you know how to operate the machines?”
I frown at him. “I do laundry every Sunday at home, Gideon. I have an apartment.”
“Right.” He backs out of the room, and I sort the clothes, then put a load into the washer, measure in soap and softener, and start it.