Page 61 of Reluctantly You

They keep flitting back to Gideon, how strong he is, the way his fingers bit into my skin as he held me. The way he kissed.

I don’t like him, and yet I want it again.

“What’s wrong with me, Little Pants?”

She just bites my hand, wanting more pets. I do it, obviously a slave for her, letting her purrs calm me even more.

How the hell am I going to face him?

I kissed him.

He kissed me back.

My heart flutters in my chest as I relive that moment over and over, like an endless movie reel. Black and white, bits and pieces of it filtering through my mind.

I sit there for ages, replaying it, until I hear a knock on my door and I scramble to my feet to pull it open.

Gideon. He’s standing there with a plastic bag in his hand, his knuckles looking slightly swollen and bruised.

Were they like that before?

“What the fuck happened to your hand?”

“Nothing. I just punched that fucker. You’re welcome.”

“You wh?—?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it. Your dinner,” he says, holding up the bag and pushing his way past me.

My heart rate triples.

What the fuck?

“By all means, come in,” I murmur and then shut the door. I turn and watch as Little Pants rubs her cheeks against his pants and leaves an array of hair lingering there.

“Thought you might be hungry.”

I take it from him and set it on the kitchen counter, not sure what the hell to do now.

We stand there and the tension between us crackles.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as I move away from him, needing more space. But he just follows me, crowding me.

He cocks his head slightly and runs a hand down his face. “Shiloh insisted I give you a hug. Said you might need it.”

“Fuck off. I don’t need it.”

“Shiloh is rarely wrong,” he adds as he takes a step closer to me. Closer.

I hold my breath as he approaches, and when he stops an inch away from me, he pulls me into his chest. His hands move around my back, and I lean into him, resting my head against hisshoulder, just for a second before leaning back and shoving him away. Gideon barely moves, just steps closer and pulls me into him, my body now flush with his.

“Don’t push me around,” he hisses, and I feel my cock perk up at his nearness. “Just accept a fucking hug.”

“I don’t need it,” I say as he grabs on to me, forcing me back into another one, my face smashed into him. I inhale the scent of him, manly, rich. I hate it. Fucking despise it. Grunting, I try to wrestle away and manage for just a moment, before we fall to the couch, his body on mine.

“Get the fuck off,” I hiss, trying to push him off. But he doesn’t move, just presses into me, his hips grinding into mine as he grabs one of my hands, pushing it above my head. His eyes meet mine, flickering with anger.

“You can’t just let someone be kind to you, can you?”

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