8. Gideon
Chapter eight
Gideon
A soft, warm weight shifts against my chest, waking me from a peaceful sleep. Avery. Sunlight trickles through the window, bathing us in hues of amber and honey.
I blink, a heavy confusion settling over me before my eyes adjust to the rest of the room.
It isn’t early. The shadows on the hardwood floor are short and direct, meaning the morning has vanished.
I look down at my wrist, but my watch is sitting on the nightstand next to an empty glass and the small bottle of honey-lavender massage oil. I smirk, memories rushing back.
Avery is curled into my side, his bare shoulder pressed against my ribs, one of his legs draped completely over my thighs.
His brown hair is a wild mess against the white pillow, and his breathing is deep, slow, and completely peaceful.
His skin still carries the faint, sweet scent of the lavender treatment from the night before.
I lie perfectly still, letting the reality of the situation wash over me.
For weeks, I told myself to keep my distance and keep things professional.
I justified my attraction and told myself that twenty-six and thirty-eight didn't mix.
That a retired ex-bodyguard had no business holding onto a vibrant, ambitious designer.
But looking at him now, completely safe and soft in my arms, the urge to pull back dissolves completely. I don't want to run away. I don't want to give him space. I want to build a perimeter around this room and keep him right here.
Carefully, so I don't wake him, I slide out from under the lightweight comforter. My bare feet are silent against the floor as I pull on my jeans from the night before. I step out into the small living room, checking the kitchen clock. It is nearly one in the afternoon.
My stomach lets out a loud rumble. Avery hasn't eaten since a few small bites at Ezra's barbecue yesterday, so I wash my hands and start looking through his small refrigerator.
He has standard groceries; several cheeses, fresh veggies, and some lunch meat.
Then, I get an idea. Making my way to the gift basket I gave him, I pull out a few ingredients.
I unhook an apron reading ‘Want to taste my meat?’ printed on the front, tie the strings securely around my waist, and start working.
Placing the items on the counter, I make sure I have everything I need; a block of Eden cheese, some honey, a small jar of pimiento peppers, mayo, salt, and pepper. Perfect.
Taking all the ingredients, I measure them out by sight—like Ma taught me—and mix them together.
I can’t be entirely sure Avery will like the spread I’m making, but it’s a classic staple in some Filipino households.
I’d love to show him this side of me. But just in case, I make a backup plan.
If he doesn’t like this Filipino grilled cheese, it wouldn’t be too hard to make him a different sandwich.
In the meantime, I fry up some bacon I find in the deli drawer. Then, I slice several pieces of pandesal bread, and layer it with light butter before placing them into a pan on the stove. The kitchen quickly fills with the delicious scent of the sweet, savory spread and toasted, buttery bread.
"Holy shit, is that a handsome Filipino god making grilled cheese this morning?"
I look up to see Avery leaning against the kitchen doorframe.
He is wearing nothing but a pair of oversized gray sweatpants, his bare torso tan and lined with the faint, faded marks of my fingers from last night.
He looks incredibly groggy, his brown eyes blinking sleepily as he rubs a hand over his face.
"It's actually a recipe Ma taught me." My face softens as he eyes the ingredients and notices the spread.
“May I?” he asks, pointing at the spread. “It smells delicious, but unlike anything I’ve tried before.”
“Please. Tell me what you think.” I flip the sandwiches in the pan. The edges are a perfect, crispy golden brown. Avery dips his finger into the spread and hums his approval.
“Oh my god, it’s a little sweet… yet not?” He laughs. “I don’t know how to describe it, but please tell me it’s inside those pandesal rolls your grilling up.”
A pleased, happy sensation washes over me. “It is. The spread is a classic cheese pimiento spread. You can use it on crackers or treat it like a dip, but it’s delicious like this.” I point at the pandesal.
"What time is it?" Avery asks, shuffling over to the counter and hopping onto one of the barstools.
"Past one."
Avery’s eyes go wide. "One? Oh my god, Gid. I never sleep past eight. Ezra is going to kill me—"
"It’s Sunday," I remind him softly, setting the hot skillet off the heat. I plate the sandwiches, and add some bacon before sliding it across the counter toward him. "The boutique is closed today. You have the day off."
Avery lets out a long, dramatic sigh of relief, his entire body relaxing as he slumps against the counter.
"Right. Day off. Thank god. My brain is completely scrambled.
" He picks up the sandwich and takes a bite. A soft moan escapes his throat, his eyes closing. I’m ashamed to admit the tiny sound turns me on.
"Wow. Okay,” he says. “The bee farmer can cook. This is incredible."
"It's just a sandwich," I reply, taking a seat on the stool next to him. I take a bite of my own food and hum. Avery’s right… this is good. Maybe it’s better since I used a different type of honey. I make a mental note to tell Ma.
"No, it's really fucking good,” Avery insists, pointing the remaining half of his sandwich at me. He looks at me for a long moment, his playful smile softening into something much warmer. Deeper. "Thank you, Gid. For everything last night, and for this."
"You don't have to thank me," I say with a soft smile. I reach across the small space between our stools, my thick thumb catching some spread at the corner of his mouth.
Avery smiles, tilting his head into my touch.
We eat the rest of our lunch exchanging small details about our favorite foods and how Avery used to live on iced coffee and fast food during his time at Dee Rama Magazine.
How the hell was he able to stay in such good shape?
It’s obvious he works out, but does he actually like physical activity?
A picture of us starting our days together with a morning job or an afternoon workout have my heart skipping a beat. It’s a beautiful domestic picture, and something I’ve always wanted.
As soon as we finish eating, Avery stretches his arms over his head, a mischievous glint returning to his brown eyes.
"Since we both have the entire day off, and my legs are still technically recovering from the farmer’s market, I think we are legally required to spend the afternoon doing absolutely nothing. "
"Nothing?" I ask.
"Nothing," Avery beams, grabbing my hand and tugging me to my feet. "Come on. We're watching movies."
For the next several hours, the outside world ceases to exist. We pile every throw pillow from the living room onto Avery’s bed, before closing the blinds to block out the sun. The large television on his dresser plays a superhero action movie, but we’re barely paying attention.
Avery is lying against my side, and my large arms are wrapped securely around his waist. Every now and then, my fingers trace small patterns across his bare skin, making his skin goosebump.
Eventually, the movie fades into the background. The slow, rhythmic friction of my hands against his skin starts to turn into something heated and sensual.
Avery rolls over in my arms, shifting until he is straddling my lap once again, his brown eyes dark with a sudden, intense heat. He reaches down, his soft fingers tracing a path through the hair on my chest before moving up to cup my jaw.
"Yeah, I don't think I want to watch the movie anymore, big guy," he whispers against my lips.
"Is that so?" I rumble, my hands immediately cupping his ass through his sweats. "I mean, I was getting too turned on with all those superheroes in those tiny tights. So, I get it." I tease.
“And here I was thinking you were getting turned on by the new lingerie set I put on.”
My mouth falls open when I slip my hand in his sweats, fingers gliding over silk. I groan. Fuck me, is that a silk thong? Has he been wearing this the whole damn time?
When our mouths meet, the slow sweetness of the afternoon disappears. I roll him beneath me, my large frame pressing him against the mattress as my lips move against his. Every damn time we kiss it’s possessive and hungry. Avery gasps, his fingers tangling in my hair, yanking me closer.
Between the heavy, breathless kisses, Avery pulls his head back just an inch, his chest heaving. "Wait—Gid, wait."
I freeze, my chest pressing against his, my breathing rough. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Avery pants, a sudden look of realization crossing his face. "But it's late afternoon. Kai might come home any minute, and these walls are incredibly thin."
I grunt. "I'll double check the front door is locked."
"No need. He has a key. Let's turn on some music," Avery suggests, reaching over the edge of the bed to grab his phone off the floor. His fingers tap the screen quickly, routing the audio to a small Bluetooth speaker sitting on his bookshelf. "Just in case."
A heavy, driving drum beat suddenly fills the bedroom, followed by the loud, distorted strum of an electric guitar and a high-energy indie rock melody.
I freeze, my head snapping toward the speaker. Avery pauses too, his phone still in his hand, his eyebrows knitting together as the male vocalist starts singing a fast, energetic verse.
We both stare at the speaker for three seconds before Avery bursts into a sudden, loud fit of laughter.
"No fucking way," Avery giggles, burying his face into my shoulder, his entire body shaking with amusement. "Oh my god, no way."
"Is that..." I trail off, a rare, genuine chuckle breaking out of my own chest.
"It's Arcade Lake," Avery laughs, looking up at me with bright, joyful eyes. "It's Olly and Emery’s band! My phone automatically shuffled my rock playlist and of course it had to pick their band."
I shake my head, looking down at him as the loud, energetic rock music bounces off the bedroom walls. The mental image of my best friend screaming into the mic while I’m currently covered in honey scented oil and hovering over Avery is kinda ridiculous, but it breaks the tension perfectly.
"A smile spreads across my face as I reach down and gently set his phone on the nightstand. "Well, at least we know the guys play loud enough to drown out the noise around us."
Just then, the front door opens. “I’m pretty sure Kai just walked in the house.” I lean over and turn up the music even louder. Leaning down, I hover my lips over his. If he wants me to stop, then I’ll stop.
"Go on, kiss me, Honey Bear," Avery chuckles, tugging me to his lips.
I do. I pepper him with light kisses before pressing my mouth to his. His lingering laughter turns into a deep, breathy moan against my lips as the loud indie rock tracks keep the rest of the world locked outside.