I swallow hard, struck speechless by the earnestness of his words.
This has gone extremely fast, and I’m not usually the type to rush into things. Unfortunately, that means I haven’t rushedoutof things, either.
I stayed in my last relationship far longer than I should have. Even before Everett cheated, I knew we weren’t a good fit. But I said yes when he proposed because it seemed like that was the path we were on.
The night I saw Gideon, I stepped off the beaten path of the workaholic bookworm and onto a new one with him. I’m eager to see where it leads. And if he’s willing to have me and my cat and all my books cluttering up his beautiful apartment, well ...
Why wait?
I consider asking how he’ll feel about making a “New Year, New Home” list, but I already know what his answer will be.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “I’m in.”
His fork clatters as he pulls me into his arms.
Chapter 20
Gideon
Christmas Day
Day 13: Bondage & Volunteering
Valencia wakes me on Christmas morning with a soft kiss.“Feliz Navidad, mi amor.”
Happiness washes through me when I see her sitting up in bed next to me.“Joyeux Noël, mon coeur.”But then I notice her devious expression. She holds up one of my many neckties, pulling it taut in her fists and crumpling the forest green silk beyond repair.
“We skipped Day 12,” she says.
Day 12 wasbondage.
I groan and flop back onto the pillows. “How about we start with you?”
“Nope!Youdidn’t participate in the blindfold prompt, so you’re technically in breach. I suggest you mitigate damages.”
“I love when you use legal jargon in bed.” I reach for her but she rolls away.
“Don’t distract me. I have big plans for you. Get up.”
Valencia insists our plaid pajamas aren’t the right attire, but I loaned my Rudolph harness to Rodrigo and I’m fresh out of additional BDSM gear. She finally concedes that black underwear will have to do. I slip into silk boxers, and she puts on her black bra and the satiny panties I’d unpacked into the dresser. She slicks her curly hair into a high ponytail and completes the ensemble with red lipstick and black ankle boots.
When I see her, I almost swallow my tongue.
“You were right,” I choke out. “This is way better.”
Since we skipped two holiday-related activities on our list, she demands that we incorporate Christmas somehow. She strolls through the living room like an off-duty dominatrix, then snaps her fingers.
“I’ve got it. Come over here.”
She holds a long red ribbon—a leftover from Day 5—and I assume she’s going to tie me to the bed, but she has something else in mind. In short order, I’m lying under the Christmastree, my wrists secured to the trunk with my green silk tie and the red ribbon wrapped around my neck like a bow.
“I would like to once again express my reservations about this.” If she tickles me, there’s an extremely high chance I’m going to bring this nine-foot tree down on our heads.
“Don’t be a wuss.”
She disappears into the kitchen and I listen hard. Is that the freezer drawer? Sure enough, she returns with an ice cube in her hand.
I clench my fists on the tie. “Valencia—”
