The look on his face is grim. “For daring to veer even slightly from the straight-and-narrow path of heteronormative masculinity he’d set forth for me.”
My insides twist with compassion. I wish I could go back and hug the version of Gideon who’d wanted to express himself and been punished for it. I wish I could go back even further and be his friend. Sure, he’d been annoying, but I’d either ignored him or snapped back, unleashing my own inner bitch. It had never occurred to me that there might be more to him than met the eye.
But I can’t go back. All we have is this moment, and what we choose to do with it.
So I kiss him. No tongue, no seduction, just a press of lips that I hope conveys some of what I’m feeling.
Not all of it. Shit,Idon’t even fully understand all of it. But I appreciate what he told me. And I appreciate that we’re on this journey together.
I ease back before the kiss can deepen. His eyes are soft, his mouth pink.
Instead of kissing him again like I want to, I say, “Are you ready for the thing you’ve waited years to do?”
He gives me a heated look. “I’ve already fucked you, Valencia.”
The words and the implication behind them, that he’s wanted me foryears, makes my toes curl, but I shake my head. “Not that. It’s time for you to finally decorate your own Christmas tree, exactly the way you want.”
“I think I’d rather fuck you again,” he mutters, but he shifts to get off the bed. From there, we move companionably around his room and the adjoining bathroom while we clean up and get dressed.
It worries me that this man reentered my life just three days ago and I already feel so comfortable around him, but I put it out of my mind as I help him decorate.
The tree he bought is eight or nine feet tall, and I praise his skill in standing it up in the tree holder. He throws a cold french fry at me, and that sets the tone for the rest of the day. We joke about his “sturdy tree trunk” and hold ornaments in front of our nipples, as if we’re considering piercing them. At some point over the past two days, Gideon picked up boxes of ornaments and decor from his mom’s apartment, and as he opens them, I find years’ worth of Andrea Noble’s design trends.
“This is from the year everything was blood red,” Gideon says, pulling out yards of thick ribbon. “And this was the year everything had gold stars.”
“I do love getting a gold star,” I tease, and he snickers.
By the time we’re done and Gideon is stacking the bins of unused decorations, it’s full dark out.
“I should get home,” I say.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?”
I shake my head. “I have an early meeting in the morning, and my feet are pretty sore.”
He walks me to the door, then holds my coat to help me into it. I slip my feet into my boots, which feel tighter than usual, thanks to the ice skates. I hold on to Gideon’s arm while I zip them up.
“Soak them tonight,” he murmurs. “With Epsom salts.”
And even though there’s nothing sexy about what he just said, a curl of desire unwinds in my belly. With both feet on the floor, I use his arm for leverage and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Have a good day at work. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Then I yank open the door and hurry to the elevator before I can give in to the temptation to suggest we get a head start on tomorrow’s activity.
Because tomorrow? Tomorrow we’re playing with vibrators.
Chapter 10
Gideon
Day 4: Vibrators & Hot Chocolate
It’s cold on Monday night, but I bundle up after work and meet Valencia at the Union Square Holiday Market to wait on a long line for hot chocolate. Why? Because that’s what she wants to do, and at this point, I’d swim naked in the East River if she put it on our list.
Yes, theEastRiver, because I’m so fucking gone for this woman that I’d risk a bacterial infection to make her happy.
Luckily, all she wants tonight is overhyped cocoa, so here we are, winding our way through a warren of wooden stalls crammed into the southern end of Union Square Park, anarea usually reserved for incense vendors, chess players, and protests. There are multiple booths that sell hot chocolate, but Valencia has done her research to find thebestone.
“Not the one that’s gone viral,” she says as we join the line behind a trio of teenage girls. “There are a lot that rely on gimmicks, like sprinkles, or a marshmallow on a stick. But if we want just a good-quality cup of hot chocolate, apparently this is the place.”
