Page 28 of Prodigal

He had a million questions, but they all dissolved on his tongue when one of Gideon’s palms slid down his chest and kept going, cupping André’s cock through his pants.

“Ugh.” He pushed into that touch.

Gideon’s breath was hot and harsh, and every inch of André’s skin he kissed felt as if he’d stayed out in the sun for too long.

Gideon made his way down André’s chest, kissing him over his t-shirt, dropping to his knees, and pausing to bury his face inAndré’s stomach. André cupped his nape with unsteady fingers, forcing Gideon’s head back.

The other man blinked up at him with hazy eyes clouded with arousal. And exhaustion.

André shook his head to clear the lust. “When was the last time you slept?”

Gideon stared at him. “That’s what you want to talk about?” Even through the material of his t-shirt, André felt the heat of his breath.

He smothered a shiver. “You look like you need to sleep.”

Gideon’s lips curved. “I’m this close to sucking your cock and you want me to go to sleep?”

André’s dick twitched in response. He’d pay good money to have Gideon’s mouth on him. Fuck, just the thought— He swallowed roughly, fingers flexing in the hair at Gideon’s nape. “Is the offer time sensitive then?”

A slow smile crept over Gideon’s features. God, he was gorgeous. And those heavy-lidded eyes gave away his exhaustion, as did the fine lines around his eyes. “The offer is open-ended.”

André’s heart lurched in his chest, but he kept his expression as impassive as he could and nodded once. “Good. Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

He had one of the most powerful and dangerous men ever on his knees, willing to grant him favors without hesitation. Power like that could go to a man’s head. André released Gideon and took a step back, holding out a hand. “Get on the bed for me?”

Gideon took his hand without speaking and André tugged him to his feet, leading him the few short steps to the bed. Gideon climbed on, releasing a deeply satisfied sound as he buried his face in the pillows.

“It smells like you.” His words were muffled by the pillows, but they still made André’s pulse race. “I like it.”

“Good.” His voice cracked. “Get some rest.”

Gideon didn’t make a sound of protest, so André went about removing the other man’s shoes. By the time that was done, soft snores reached his ears.

He stood next to the bed, hands fisted at his sides as he gazed down at Gideon. He slept on his stomach, hugging the pillows. So still, he looked so vulnerable. André wanted to know so much about him, the kind of life he led.

A killer.

The kind of man Gideon was, André didn’t know how to deal with him. They wanted each other—and yes, that kiss was something else—but was André setting himself up for heartbreak by getting involved with Gideon?

Men like Gideon, like André’s father, all they did was take you, destroy you, then discard you before they moved on to the next. So why was André standing there, chest filled with anticipation for a repeat of what they just did?

It was dangerous to hold the interest of Gideon Winters.

But that interest was all-consuming. It made him feel special. It could be addictive, too. André already suspected he wouldn’t escape any of this unscathed. He should put a stop to it; that first kiss should be their last.

But there was something in the way Gideon looked at him. In the way he put his hands on André. In the way he kissed him.

André felt him down to his bones.

And he didn’t want that feeling to go away.

“Why areyou in André’s bed?”

A soft hand landed on Gideon’s shoulder and he jerked his head up, blinking blearily at whoever was speaking. It took a while for his vision to focus enough for him to make out André’s bedroom, the door hanging wide open, and Jules’s curious stare.

“What—” He swallowed a curse and glanced around. He’d fallen asleep in André’s bed? Fuck.

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