Page 97 of Finding Gideon

I snorted. “And you thinkI’mnot romantic.”

We reached the back porch, but neither of us made a move to go in. The breeze smelled like hay and soap and faintly like the dog shampoo we’d used on Toast.

Gideon leaned against the railing. “I like this.”

“This?”

“This… life. Doing something that matters. Not just spinning my wheels trying to prove I’m not broken. Or useless. Or whatever I used to think.”

His voice had dropped, and I felt it low in my chest—how important it was to him. Tous. What we were building here.

“I used to just react,” I admitted, voice low. “Triage, cut, suture, do whatever it took to get through the emergency in front of me. Then the next one, and the next. I never thought about where it was all leading. But this...” I laid my hand on his hip. “You make me want what’s next. You make me want more.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he just looked at me like I’d given him a gift. Then his hands slid up my chest, curled around my neck, and he kissed me—slow and deep, like he had nowhere to be but here, nothing to do butfeel.

I pressed him gently against the wall, our bodies aligning like it was second nature. His mouth opened for me, and I took my time tasting him. This wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate. Want laced with gratitude. Need shot through with awe.

His fingers dug into my shoulders. Mine slipped under his shirt, greedy for heat, for skin. I wanted to lay him out on the couch. Or the lush, green grass. Or the fucking kitchen table. I wanted him boneless and gasping, whispering my name like a prayer.

“Malcolm,” he murmured, hips rocking up. “Inside. Now.”

I grinned against his neck. “Race you to the bedroom.”

He bit my earlobe. “You’ll lose.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” My palm curved over his ass, pulling him hard against me until he was snug against the thick line of my arousal. I caught the hitch of his breath and smirked. “I’ve got incentive.”

Gideon made a sound that was half-laugh, half-moan, the kind of noise that sent heat straight through me.

And then—ding.

The soft chime from the clinic’s front door drifted across the backyard.

We both froze.

Gideon pulled back far enough to meet my eyes, his lips kiss-bruised and tempting. “Was that…?”

I let my forehead drop to his shoulder and groaned. “Please tell me that was just the wind rattling something.”

Ding.Again, insistent.

Gideon’s sigh brushed hot against my cheek. He didn’t move right away. His hand stayed firm on my hip, thumb stroking once, like he wasn’t ready to let go either. “Nope,” he said at last, resignation rough in his voice. “Definitely a fur parent.”

I muttered a curse into his neck, my hands still fisted in his shirt. For a breath, neither of us budged—just pressed together, pretending the world beyond the gate didn’t exist.

Then he leaned in, kissed the corner of my mouth like a promise, and pulled back. “Rain check?”

I caught his wrist before he could step away. “Count on it.”

Chapter 31

Malcolm

The door shut behind us with a solid click. Finally, home. Finally, just us. Gideon didn’t even wait for me to drop my keys before his hands were on my face, his mouth crashing into mine in a kiss so hungry it stole the breath from my lungs. I stumbled back a step, laughing into his mouth, but he didn’t let up. His fingers slid into my hair. Mine found the hem of his shirt.

Somewhere between the wall and the hallway, he tugged it over his head. I didn’t even get a chance to look before he was kissing me again, open-mouthed and breathless, and I was walking backward blindly toward the bedroom.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he muttered against my jaw.