Page 29 of Prodigal

“So?”

He returned his gaze to Jules again. She watched him too closely, and there was too much happening behind her eyes that he didn’t care to acknowledge. “Miss Juliette.” He cleared the sleep out of his voice and tried to act as if this was where he was supposed to be. Didn’t have to act much, though. Last night, he’d felt as if he’d die if he didn’t get to kiss André.

And he had.

Then he’d… What? Fallen asleep? Because he was still fully dressed, sans shoes. From the position of the sun shining through the window, it was quite late in the day. He’d slept the day away. Samir must be pissed.

“You slept here?”

Jules wasn’t letting up and he wasn’t about to answer her questions. “Where is your brother?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I came in and you were here.” She paused, eyes narrowing. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re not answering my questions.” You’d think she’d have taken the hint, but nope, she kept on. “Why are you sleeping in André’s bed?”

“Jules!”

Oh, thank God.

André appeared in the doorway, throwing a glance over his shoulder before entering with a plate piled high with food—food that included bacon, it smelled like—and a cup of coffee. He put the plate and cup down on the night table near Gideon and turned to his sister.

“What did I say about entering a room without knocking?”

“You weren’t here. How do you know I didn’t knock?”

André made an exasperated sound. “Go away.” He touched the top of her head. “I need to talk to Gideon.”

Her expression turned shrewd. “And will that conversation be about why he’s sleeping in your bed?”

“Mind your business.” André grasped the handles of her wheelchair and gently turned her toward the door. “Go eat the food you convinced the chef to make and I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Miss Juliette,” Gideon called out.

She flashed him a scowl over her shoulder but wheeled herself out of the room when André held the door open. Once she was gone, André closed the door and leaned against it, facing Gideon. He fidgeted from foot to foot, and Gideon realized André had yet to look at him since entering the room.

“Bacon for dinner?” Without asking permission, he snagged a strip of bacon from the plate André brought in, eyes closing when the flavor exploded on his taste buds. Fuck, he was hungry.

“Yeah. Jules asked the chef to make breakfast for dinner. He made waffles and pancakes, bacon and eggs, fruit and a whole bunch of other?—”

“You’re rambling,” Gideon cut him off.

“Um.” André’s gaze settled somewhere above Gideon’s head. “Feel free to leave at any time.”

He’d begun to feel bad for falling asleep on the other man before they’d had the chance to get to the fun stuff, but now Gideon frowned at André’s almost panicked tone. “What’s going on?”

André licked his lips and took a step forward. Gideon’s belly warmed at the reminder of what that tongue could do. “I didn’t want Jules to know you were here.” Once again, he looked everywhere but at Gideon.

Gideon cocked his head. “Why?” It wasn’t disappointment or hurt that tightened his voice, he was sure. Everyone wanted to be seen with him, wanted to brag that they knew the Winters’s Prodigal, but the man he wanted—the man he definitely shouldn’t fucking want—didn’t want to be seen with him?

“Look.” There went that tongue swiping across André's lips again. Gideon’s dick liked it a little too much. “I don’t— It’s not a good idea for me to get involved with you. You’re…you’retheWinters and dangerous, and I’m?—”

Gideon lost his appetite. “You’re what? Look at me.” He waited until André’s reluctant gaze met his. “You’re what?” André’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t respond. “You didn’t like my mouth on yours?” Gideon lifted an eyebrow, voice getting frostier by the second. He didn’t appreciate the sliver of hurt that worked through him. “Would you have preferred my mouth on something else?”

André’s nostrils flared and Gideon swore the other man blushed. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Why not?” Gideon demanded. “You wanted it. I wanted it.” He gentled his tone and tried not to sound too much like he was begging when he said, “Still do.”

“Gideon.”

“You should come closer. If you’re so far away you won’t be able to smell me. I know how much you love the way I smell,” he finished smugly.

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