Page 64 of Gideon
“But? I sense a but?”
“There’s always one of those.” I frown. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Eli. I’ve been closeted for so long. I want to be with you, and I don’t want to shut you in there with me. You’re open and honest and it would kill me to make you hide a part of yourself. But equally, I don’t know what will happen when I’m confronted with this. My first reaction has always been to lie, to smooth things over with clever words. What happens if I do that again and you leave me?”
He reaches over and grabs my face, his hands smelling of the rose I gave him that he proudly put in a mug in the lounge. “Easy,” he says slowly. “Gideon, everyone comes out in their own time. I would nevereverpressure you to do something you’re not ready for.”
“What if I’m never ready?” I ask, my breath catching in my throat.
He cocks his head to one side and examines my face, his own clouded with uncertainty. At that point the record changes and “Oh Children” comes on, the slow song filling the silent air.
He stands up and extends his hand. “Come on.”
“Come on where?”
“Dance with me.”
“Here?”
He smiles. “Yes, here. Why? Would you rather I’d booked theStrictly Come Dancingstage?”
“I’ve never danced with a man before,” I say slowly.
He smiles so wide my hand shoots out and slides into his before I can think about it. He pulls me to my feet and into his arms. “Then dance with me,” he says. “Let me lead.”
I snort. “When are younotdoing that?”
He pulls me close, his arms sliding around my shoulder blades, their heat startling against the thin material of my T-shirt. “I’m not sure of that,” he whispers into my ear, making me shudder. “You’ve led me to some places I’ve never been before.”
I want to ask what those places are, but he shushes me and pulls me tighter against him. I slide my hands around his slim waist and lower my head into his shoulder as he starts to move, slowly shuffling. I follow him as if he’s the lord of the dance, and somehow it feels magic in this dim room lit by the murky twilight and the glow of a lamp and with the scent of the rain drifting through the open window. It’s like I’ve been bespelled.
I have dined in the fanciest restaurants, seen the wonders of the world, and lived with riches that few ever attain, but here in this small room, in this man’s arms, shuffling to a beautiful song, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.
Happier than I probably ever will be again. At some point he’s going to leave me. Everyone does. I want to grab the memories and greedily drink them in, but he pulls me closer, and I’m blind once again to everything but this man. This poetic, perennially cheerful Welsh man who makes me feel safe.
Chapter
Thirteen
I have never in my life felt as connected with anyone as you
Eli
For the next few days we don’t stray far from the cottage. Or, in fact, the bed. In the future I’ll only have to catch the scent of lilac and I’ll be transported back to this bed: sweating, knackered, but so intensely satisfied I can feel it down to my bones.
On the fourth day I pull out of Gideon gently with a groan. “Fuck, I think my dick fell off.”
He snorts, his face buried in the mattress, his hair wet with sweat. “Has it fallen off in me? Oh, if only we had a medical professional on the premises.”
“Don’t worry, sir,” I say in an officious voice. “Mr Jones is in the building and will cater to all your needs.”
He groans. “Any more catering and I’ll be dead.”
I whip off the condom and, tying a knot in it, I make a stab at throwing it towards the bin. It probably doesn’t make it because I’m definitely not LeBron James.
I snuggle next to him, running a hand down the sleek tanned skin of his back and cupping his arse before pushing my finger into his hole and gently massaging the stretched entrance. He gives a sigh of happiness and we lie for a while in a comfortable silence broken only by birdsong and eventually the rumble of my stomach.
“Was that you?” he says, coming up on his elbows, his face alight with mirth. I look my fill at that patrician face – so stern when I first met him, but now relaxed and open in a way I’d be willing to bet it’s never been before – and then I grin.
“It might have been because you talked about catering.”
