Page 39 of Finding Gideon (Foggy Basin Season Two)

Malcolm

Two-and-a-half years later…

We stumbled into the bedroom still laughing, still drunk off each other—off sweat and skin and whatever the hell this thing was that kept pulling us in, again and again, like it had a mind of its own.

Gideon shoved the door shut behind us, and I backed him into it, caught his mouth again. That grin of his—cocky and reckless—melted into something darker the second I bit at his bottom lip. His fingers tugged at the hem of my shirt, impatient, like he needed me bare just to breathe.

Clothes hit the floor in messy trails. My jeans first. His socks tossed halfway under the bed.

The moment his hoodie came off, I couldn’t help but stare because—God—every single time I saw him felt like the first. The neat fade framing his face, the damp glow along his chest, the heat radiating from the strong column of his neck.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, voice low and teasing as he nudged my waistband down. “Should I flex for you?”

“You do and I’ll never let you live it down.”

I pressed him backward until his knees hit the edge of the mattress.

He fell with a rough laugh, pulling me down with him, mouths finding each other again, hands everywhere at once.

There was nothing soft about it—except for the parts that always were.

The way he tilted his head when I kissed that spot under his jaw.

The way his breath hitched when I dragged my fingers over the curve of his hip.

He made a sound—half curse, half groan—and arched into me.

“You always—fuck—you always know how to drive me crazy,” he muttered.

“I try.” I kissed him again, slower this time. “Want to do more than that tonight.”

There was sweat between us already, our skin slick and hot, friction building with every shift of our hips. My hands moved on instinct, knowing what he liked, what made him gasp. I loved the way his body trembled, the way he gripped my shoulders.

The words in my chest started to burn. Not just I love you —but everything that came with it. The awe of finding him. The gratitude that someone like him even looked my way, let alone stayed. It was too big for three small words.

His eyes met mine, all glassy and hungry. “What?” he asked, voice hoarse.

I wanted to tell him he looked like home. That every version of my future had him in it, and that it scared the shit out of me in the best way.

But instead, I kissed him again.

And that was enough—for now.

We moved like we’d done this a hundred times before—because we had—but somehow, it never felt the same. I knew the shape of his back, the rhythm of his breath, the way his body arched when he was right on the edge. But even now, three years in, I still found new ways to lose myself in him.

His hands gripped my sides, dragging me closer. Our mouths met again, open and hungry, like we were trying to memorize each other all over again. Maybe we were.

Gideon tugged me down until our bodies were flush, and I felt him, hard and ready, pressed right where we both needed it. I rolled my hips against his and swallowed the groan that came out of him. God, that sound. I’d never get enough of it.

“You good?” I murmured, brushing my nose against his cheek.

He nodded, breathing ragged. “Always, with you.”

It was easy to believe him in moments like this.

I reached between us, slow and sure, and guided us there—where the burn started, where the line between pleasure and ache blurred, and we started to fall all over again.

He gasped, hands fisting in the sheets, head tipping back. I leaned in and kissed his throat, feeling the way it worked under my lips as he swallowed back a moan.

We rocked together, a slow grind of hips, a familiar rhythm that had nothing to do with speed and everything to do with knowing. Knowing each other’s bodies. Each other’s hearts.

Gideon’s leg wrapped around my waist, anchoring me. I went deeper, and he gasped again—sharper this time, eyes flying open to meet mine.

“I got you,” I whispered. “I always got you.”

His expression shifted then—something soft, almost shy—like he still couldn’t quite believe any of this was real.

“I know,” he said. “You always do.”

We moved like that for a long time, chasing heat and closeness, sweat slick between us, his hands mapping the curve of my spine, my mouth pressed to his shoulder, his jaw, his temple.

And somewhere in the middle of it—of the heat and the stretch and the way our bodies locked together like puzzle pieces—I thought about everything I knew about him.

How he always fell asleep facing the window.

How he used the word menace like it was a love language.

How he swore up and down he didn’t want kids, even though we were halfway to a zoo, and he once bottle-fed a rescue calf every four hours for a week straight without complaining once.

How he made pancakes exactly once a month and always forgot to buy syrup but never forgot to kiss me when I was too tired to remember my own name.

And how, even now, even when I thought I knew everything, there was always more.

More to learn. More to love. More of him.

The thought of it—the absolute joy of that knowing—rushed through me like wildfire. And when I finally came, it was with a breathless sound against his neck, his name half-formed in my throat.

He followed a second later, arms wrapped around me so tight it felt like we were holding the whole damn world together.

After, we lay tangled in sweaty sheets, our breath still uneven, hearts still racing like we had just poured every ounce of love we had into each other.

“That was…” he started, voice hoarse.

I smiled against his skin. “Yeah. It was.”

He shifted, reaching toward the nightstand. “Hang on—I’ll grab a tissue.” He pulled open the drawer, rummaging a moment before pausing.

“What’s this?”

I propped myself up on one elbow. He wasn’t holding a tissue. He was holding a small box.

Shit.

I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. “I was going to ask you, but not like this.”

Gideon turned the box over in his hand like it might disappear if he blinked. “Ask me now.”

I stared at him. At the man who’d changed my whole life. The one I wanted to build every day with. The one I knew better than I knew myself—and still wanted to keep knowing for the rest of forever.

So I sat up. Took the box gently from his hand. Opened it to reveal the simple gold band inside. Nothing flashy. Just something real.

And I said, “Gideon Raines, I have known a lot of things in my life. Like the fact that I love strong coffee and early mornings, and that a barn is never truly clean, no matter how many times you sweep. But the thing I’ve never doubted—not once since the day you showed up with your beautiful face and ridiculous dog—is that I want every day, every kiss, every hard moment, every good one, with you. ”

His breath hitched.

“I want to fight about which one of us forgot to feed the goats. I want to laugh when Dennis chews through yet another charger cable. I want to love you and be loved by you. Every version of you. Always.”

I swallowed hard, nerves rising up like a wave—and then falling away just as fast because he was still watching me with that same soft wonder I’d seen in him the first night he let me into his heart.

“So,” I said. “Will you marry me?”

He blinked once. Then again. Then grinned.

And said, “Of course I will, you idiot.”

We kissed again, both of us laughing into it.

And that’s exactly when Dennis barreled through the half-open door, yowling like he’d been personally wronged by the lack of dog treats in the room.

Gideon pulled back, eyes gleaming. “Guess he wants to be the ring bearer.”

“God help us.”

Want to read Noah and Christian’s story? Check out Finding Noah !

While you’re at it, check out the entire Foggy Basin Season 2 series .

Interested in reading another Denver Shaw romance? Well, up next is Kellan & Emmett from the Gomillion High Reunion series !