Page 59 of Reluctantly You

Without thinking, I push back my chair and stalk from the restaurant, my entire body shaking with something I can’t quite understand. I can’t explain it.

I hate him and I yearn for him. For him to love me.

“Mitchell,” Gideon’s voice says from behind me, and I pick up my pace, needing to get away. I swipe at my cheeks, my breath coming out in short, pathetic pants as I unlock my car. But before I can get inside, Gideon grabs on to me, turning and pushing me against the door.

“Where are you going?” he asks, angrily.

I can’t meet his gaze, my vision swimming. I can’t fucking breathe.

“Not hungry,” I manage to say.

Gideon’s hands tighten on my hips and he takes a step closer, his body pressed into mine. He must see it, see how pathetic I am, because his voice softens.

“What happened? Tell me.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and fist my hands near my sides.

“My dad…”

Gideon stiffens against me, realization dawning.

“But he’s not my dad, is he? He’s not my fucking dad.” My words are pushed out of me, an admission even I can’t quite believe I’m making. “He won’t even look at me. He never loved me. Thirty-two years and it all meant nothing.”

Gideon’s hands tighten on me, digging into my sides, grounding me.

“I hate him. I fucking hate him,” I whisper and then find myself unable to inhale. “Can’t…breathe.”

His forehead hits mine and his hands slide up to cup my face. “Listen to me.”

I shake my head, but try to do as he says. Fuck…my world, it’s gone. It’s crumbled to dust and I can’t sweep up the pieces fast enough. They’re blown to the corners and disappearing into theair. My future, my hopes and dreams are all being pulled away from me.

“Breathe. Breathe,” he whispers softly. “Listen to me. Follow me.”

My hands move to his waist and I hold on to him tightly, worried that if I let go, I’ll be swept away as well.

“Good. Good boy,” he says gently, his thumbs smoothing over my cheeks. I can feel his breath on my lips, warm and sweet.

My heart rate slowly evens out and my breathing becomes regulated, and still he doesn’t let me go. Just continues to hold on to me. Anchoring me.

“You’re okay. You’re so fucking good,” he whispers and my eyelids flutter open, the lashes wet.

“Gideon?” My voice is hoarse and needy, a question. And then without thinking, I lean up and brush my lips across his.

He freezes, his lips soft against mine and then he presses forward, his mouth tilting against my own. His hand moves to my chin, cupping my beard, holding me in place.

It only ends when I slowly peel myself away.

His forehead is still on mine, our breath mingling.

I hate that he’s reduced me to this, that his lips felt so good.

“Fuck, fuck you,” I murmur and push forward, my lips meeting his again, harsher, more sure this time. My hands fist his shirt, pulling him into me, and his fingers slide into my hair, pulling roughly on the strands. His face tilts and his tongue slides into my mouth, making a small angry whimper escape me. I can’t do this.

I can’t fucking do this. I don’t like him, I don’t kiss men. I’ve never done this. But still, I let my tongue touch his and feel the sensation all the way to my balls. They clench tightly, and I feel the rapid fluttering of wings in my stomach.

God.Oh my god.

I grab on to him tighter, angrier the longer we kiss. I press my tongue to his and he bites down on my lip, making me moan.

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