Page 51 of Finding Gideon
He blinked. “And now?”
“Now I want you. Not just this,” I said, voice low. “You. When you’re quiet. When you’re snippy. When you’re avoiding people and pretending you’re not.”
That got a soft, startled sound from him. Not quite a laugh, not quite a sob either.
I reached out and traced the line of his forearm where it rested on the table. The skin was warm. Solid. Real.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I wanted to be close to anyone?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Since I felt like I could... breathe easier near someone?"
His throat worked, but no words came.
“Being with you doesn’t make me feel lost,” I said. “It makes me feel found.”
Something flickered in Malcolm’s eyes—full and aching—like he was still trying to hold the line, but losing ground inch by inch.
“I keep thinking,” he murmured, “if I were younger—less jaded—less… me…”
“I don’t want less of you,” I said, my chest tightening. “I want all of it.”
His eyes closed, a slow breath leaving him, and then he leaned in.
The second kiss was soft. Slower. Less about heat, more about recognition—like we were learning each other by touch alone.
I felt it everywhere.
In the press of his lips.
In the warm hand cupping the back of my neck, holding me as if I might vanish.
In the way his body angled toward mine—not to trap, but to connect, to sayI’m herewithout speaking.
My fingers curled into his shirt, anchoring myself.
When we finally parted, we stayed close, breathing the same small pocket of air.
The quiet wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t awkward.
It was still.
It was safe.
I didn’t know what tomorrow would look like. Or next week. Or what it meant to want someone like this, slow and steady andtrue.
But I knew I wasn’t afraid.
We didn’t move for a while. Just stayed there in that little circle of warmth we’d made between us. Forehead to forehead, our knees brushing, fingers lazily tangled.
Malcolm’s thumb was moving again, this time along the curve of my jaw. A barely-there touch.
“Is this…” he started, then hesitated.
“Yeah?” I nudged gently.
He blew out a breath through his nose, the kind that sounded like he was annoyed with himself. “I don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
I smiled. “Guess we’re both a little lost here.”
He laughed, and I felt it. Not just in the air between us, but in the way his chest shook and his hand tightened around mine. There was something sogoodabout hearing him laugh.
