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ChapterThirteen
Skye
I’mrestless on the drive home. A little bit angry, though I know I’m being irrational. But how could he not feelsomethingwhen he touched my hand? His touch made everything inside me burn so hot, my ovaries melted. Never mind that he’s Chloe Reece’s brother. That little stroke of his thumb on my hand? Good grief—it made my belly flip-flop. I wobbled out of the restaurant on weak knees. Thankfully, he didn’t notice.
Probably too caught up in the thing he had.
So, not only is my body still on slow burn mode after that instant ignition, I’m sulking as I park in the garage under my building, assuming he’s out somewhere with someone. I can’t say someoneelse, because it’s not like we’re a thing.
Even my heart kind of hurts a little as I wonder what he’s doing. Who he’s doing. It’s not exciting, but I’ve liked having him around this past week. He irks me sometimes, but he’s fun, too. And it’s probably super nerdy to him, but I think reading together, alone, in opposite corners of the apartment is nice.
Yeah, Gideon is uptight and kind of snobby, but he’s also all dark and brooding and delicious looking. Enough so that he doesn’t have to use a pickup line. If he’s that good, why would he want to hang around here with me?
If he’s all that, those deep, dark eyes that seem to search my soul every time he looks at me, and those lips, chiseled from the stone of his face, and that touch—the stroke of his thumb over my hand—what kind of lover would he be?
My phone buzzes in my purse as I get off the elevator. I dig it out and wave to a neighbor down the hall as I walk toward my door.
“Hey.”
I feel like a little girl caught peeking at porn when I answer Chloe’s call. I mean, I didn’t look at porn until I was in high school, probably, and then it grossed me out. But I’m pretty sure that’s what my heartbeat exploding so hard in my chest I can feel it everywhere else is about.
Guilt.
For thinking about making love with Gideon Reece.
Sex. Sex with Gideon Reece.
I unlock my door and decide that Gideon doesn’t make love with anyone. He might be incredible in bed, but I’m guessing he rolls out of bed and never looks back. Totally the type to get easily bored with a woman. I’m not sure he’d be the type to jump into bed with another woman instantly, though. I think he lives more in his head than real life, and he’d ditch a woman to fiddle with his keyboard or guitar before he left for another woman.
“Skye?”
“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “Just looking through my mail.” The lie comes so easily, it only adds to my guilt. “What?”
“How was the book club meeting last night?”
With a sarcastic snort, I drop my purse on the counter, toss my keys next to it, and lean to slip off a heel. Wondering how long Gideon will be gone, I glance at the door and then hobble to my bedroom on one heel. Not taking any chances tonight, I close my door, put Chloe on speaker phone, and set it on my dresser.
“The meeting was good. We readChallenged.”
“I read it,” Chloe tells me. She yells something somewhat vicious, and then I hear a horn blast. She’s driving. Chloe is super sweet until you put her behind the wheel of a car. She’s a ballsy, badass driver who’ll cut off your grandmother in traffic. “Loved it. What time did Gideon get in?”
“After ten.”
Chloe’s soft laughs makes me homesick for her. We grew up together, but after high school, we went to different colleges and had to make our way on our own. We still get together as much as we can, but obviously, now that we’re adults with responsibilities, it’s never often enough. Having Gideon around makes me miss her even more. Maybe because I had him figured to be just like her, and he’s not.
Or maybe because I’m a little mixed up about my feelings for him, feelings I shouldn’t have, and that’s normally something I would talk to her about.
“He called me,” she says. “From the Cat. Told me you had warned him not to come home.”
“I didn’t warn him,” I argue weakly. I slip my other heel off and take a moment to appreciate the cool tile floor on my aching feet. “I just…told him to come home late.”
“Well, usually, he gets lost in stuff and resurfaces a good five hours later and remembers to breathe or eat. But last night, he was restless.”
I slip my skirt off and toss it over the end of my bed.
“Why was he restless?”
I hope I don’t sound eager. Just mildly, politely interested.
