Page 157 of Reluctantly You

After meeting my biological dad and spending several days with him, Gideon and I headed home. It was a tearful goodbye, with promises on both ends to keep in touch. Honestly, when I arrived back home, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I still don’t.

Part of me wants to move up north and live near Basil, to get to know him, to bask in his cheery presence.

But the other part of me wants to stay with Gideon. I want to be with him more than I should. I’m sure it’s not healthy.

My therapist hasn’t said anything about it. Just asked me how I felt.

Not helpful at all, that asshole. I don’t know how I feel.

But I feel…afraid.

And hopeful.

It’s an odd mixture.

I pace my kitchen as these thoughts pulse through my mind, Pants is in her cat tree licking her paw and eyeing me suspiciously.

“I know you want a kitty castle here, but that’s not a thing,” I say to her as I wait for Gideon to arrive at my place. I haven’t seen him all damn day. I didn’t go to work. Haven’t been in all damn week. Haven’t wanted to.

For the first time in my life, I’m putting myself first. I’m letting myself just…be.

So I’m quitting. I’m fucking done. I don’t want to work in finance anymore, a job I never wanted. Now, I just want to paint, create.

I don’t want to look at numbers one more goddamn day.

The front doorknob turns on a creak, and Gideon strides in, wearing a dark blue suit and tie, looking fucking delicious. My tongue peeks out, wetting my lips, and his eyes track the movement, darkening.

“How was your day?” he asks as he pulls me into his arms, into a tight hug.

“Fine,” I murmur, my hands moving around his waist and curling into his back. “Good.”

“How was therapy?”

“Helpful,” I murmur, my mouth skimming his neck.

“Good, baby. You’re doing so good.”

I pull away from him and our gazes collide. He knows. He so fucking does, but I say it anyways.

“I quit.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Hm. Is that so?”

“It is.”

“I figured. It’s been a while since you’ve been in. I already have Shiloh packing up your office. Figured you didn’t want to go back in there…”

“Yeah, I don’t. I don’t want to step foot inside that fucking place.”

“Yes, I can see why, but you’ll come in if you’re visiting me, right? I still want you bent over my desk.”

My body warms, my cock hardening. Yes, yes I still want that. I want it all with him.

“Yeah, guess I can do that.”

“How about a few times a week?”

I scoff as my cheeks darken, just imagining it now, the way he commands me, the way he slides inside of me. “How about a few times a month?”

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