I really need Gideon to pick his nose or something. Nothing egregious, just something unpleasant enough to make him a little less irresistible.
We’re having such a nice time, I almost forget about our other activity, but Gideon has one more gift for me.
“What’s this?” I ask, taking the long package wrapped delicately in tissue paper. It barely weighs anything.
“Open it.” His green eyes sparkle like something from a dragon’s hoard, reflecting the twinkling lights all around us.
Oh, boy. I know exactly what this is.
I carefully unfold the layers of paper, revealing a fluffy black ostrich feather attached to a slim metal rod.
Since I’m on the verge of making a terrible pun about “tickling my fancy,” I say blandly, “Well, come on, then.”
In the bedroom, I set the feather on top of the books stacked on my bedside table. My heartbeat pounds in my throat like a snare. Last night, I was fueled by the illicit thrill of fucking a guy who used to hate me. But now? I have no idea how to begin.
I turn to face him and catch his eyes darting over to the bed. Remembering how he asked if the clothes I gave him last night had belonged to Everett, I blurt out, “It’s a new mattress.” My face flames, but I need him to know that this is not the same bed I had sex with Everett Mulholland on.
Gideon just nods, but his jaw is tight, and he looks as jittery as I feel.
So I do what anyone would do in this situation: I rip my sweater over my head and throw it on the floor.
Sure enough, Gideon’s lips part as his gaze fixes on my chest, because the only thing I have on under the sweater is a red lace bralette.
His eyes flick back to mine and he raises a brow. “Does this mean you’re volunteering to go first?”
Shit, I hadn’t thought of that, but I give a brave nod. “Yes. I volunteer as tribute.”
Gideon grins and pulls off his own sweater, followed by his undershirt. I shove down my leggings and kick them off before climbing onto the bed in nothing but my bra and matching panties. The heat in Gideon’s eyes intensifies as he picks up the feather.
I lie on my back with my arms and legs straight. Goosebumps break out over my skin. I stare at the ceiling and drag in a deep, calming breath.
In the periphery, I’m aware of Gideon moving to the foot of the bed.
“I’m going to start with your feet. Do you consent?”
I let out a shaky breath. “Go ahead.”
“All right. Here it comes.”
He steps closer, and from the corner of my eye, I see his arm move. A second later, the feather flicks over the arch of my left foot in the barest of touches.
I react like he’s zapped me with a taser.
My heel nearly catches Gideon in the face. He jerks backward as I vault off the bed like Simone Biles going for another gold medal. I make a beeline for the bathroom, giggling the whole way.
When I come back from peeing, I find Gideon sitting on the edge of the bed with Archie. Gideon looks up when I enter the room, a sheepish smile on his face.
“I don’t suppose you want to try that again?”
I shake my head vehemently. “No way.”
His shoulders slump in relief. “Thank God. You almost broke my nose.”
“Sorry. But I know how to make it up to you.”
His brows lift. “Oh, yeah?”
I raise the feather and wave it in the air. “Your turn.”
