Page 90 of Finding Gideon
“While you were gone, I did some research.” I tapped my fingers against his muscular thigh. “About myself, mostly.”
His attention sharpened.
“I was trying to figure out why I feel the way I do sometimes. Or don’t. It’s been on my mind a while.”
He nodded at me encouragingly, his expression open and judgment-free, giving me the courage to continue.
“I think I’m demisexual.”
Malcolm absorbed the information quietly, without a sliver of judgment on his face. It was as if this was exactly the kind of thing he wanted me to be able to say out loud.
“I don’t feel sexual attraction unless there’s a deep emotional connection. Not just a crush or a vibe. Like, real trust. Real closeness. It’s not even about desire in a physical sense. More like... the feeling comesafterI already feel safe.”
I paused. Let the words settle. Let myself breathe.
“I used to think something was wrong with me because I couldn’t understand what the big deal about sex was,” I added, quieter. “I felt that maybe I was broken. Or just... late to everything.”
Malcolm’s fingers tapped his mug once, then stilled. “There was never anything wrong with you.”
His voice had that low certainty I always trusted. The kind that didn’t need to be loud to be true.
I gave him a crooked smile. “Thanks.”
Then he said, “You know... before you, I thought I was straight.”
I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Go on.”
“I mean, I married a woman. Slept with women. Wasn’t pretending. Wasn’t unhappy.” His gaze stayed on me, expression calm, one hand tracing lazy patterns across my knee. “But after the divorce... nothing clicked. There was attraction, sure. But it felt like... static. Not a real connection.”
“And then?”
“And then you happened.” He met my eyes. “And it wasn’t just about being into a man for the first time. It was about being intoyou.You made me rethink everything I thought I knew.”
I felt that in my ribs. In the soft center of my chest.
He went on. “So yeah, maybe I’m bi. Or queer. Or maybe labels don’t fit all that neatly. But I do know I’ve never felt moreseenin a relationship than I do with you.”
Something warm unfurled in my chest, but it was the next part that stayed with me.
“I’m still learning, too,” he said. “Just... a few years behind you.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It felt like a soft patch of ground between us, cleared and safe.
I looked at him. His eyes on mine. Still waiting, always patient.
“I think I’m ready.”
“For what?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“To have sex with you.”
His throat worked as he swallowed, but he didn’t speak right away. Then, carefully, “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve thought about it a lot. Not just about sex itself but... being withyou.That way. I want that. I wantyou.”
He rested his hand over mine. Warm, solid, grounding. “Not because you think I need it?”
“No.” I smiled. “Because I want it. With you. No one else.”
