Page 21 of Gideon (Finding Home #3)
Regret fills me suddenly, and it’s such an alien emotion that it takes me a few minutes to realise what it is. I speak before I can second-guess myself. “I’m sorry,” I say honestly. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this.”
“Gideon, it’s my job. But it would be much easier if my patient wasn’t so hell-bent on self-destruction.”
“I didn’t drink, though,” I say quickly, unable to bear the disappointment in his voice.
He shakes his head. “Well done,” he says smartly, but his fingers when he removes the mask are gentle and his expression is softer, so I know he’s forgiven me.
He takes my pulse again. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says suddenly, his eyes fixed on my wrist and his expression troubled.
He looks up at me, his eyes like the depth of a clear brook.
“My phone fell in the sea and Oliver missed the boat.”
“Did you have a good time?” I hold my breath waiting for his answer.
He shakes his head. “Not after I refused his offer of a hotel room that rented by the hour. It sort of soured the afternoon.”
“What a charmer,” I breathe. “How on earth did you resist that offer?” I can feel relief settle in me at the note of aggravation in his voice, and I can’t help the note of happiness in my voice.
“I’m still sorry,”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say loftily. “I didn’t miss you.”
“Really?” he asks, and I smile.
“Maybe a little bit.” He fidgets and I stare at him. “You okay?”
“What do you remember about last night?”
I rack my brains but can’t come up with anything much apart from the strong desire to never smoke dope again, and also to not think too hard as it’s making a headache sing between my brows.
“Was I bad?” I ask tentatively. “That dope must have been really strong shit, because all I can remember is looking at the moon and then you snatching it off me and jettisoning it. That’s it for me as far as the evening went. ”
“I didn’t snatch it off you,” he protests. “I simply confiscated it and chucked it over the side.” I raise my eyebrow but he hesitates and something complicated crosses his usually open face.
“Eli?” I ask, but he shakes his head and stands up.
“Come on, time to get up. Have a shower and then meet me in the lounge. We’re going to have a slow walk around the running track so you can get some fresh air and then a nice healthy breakfast.”
“You know you say it like you’ve got a fun time planned,” I say darkly. “But I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t work.” I bite my lip. “No yoga?”
He shudders. “You’d totally spoil their chakras with all that coughing.”
“Old people are very unforgiving,” I muse, and he smiles but it’s slightly half-hearted and I frown after him as he leaves the room.
I lie still for a second, enjoying the sight of the sea glistening in the early morning sunshine, but then the lingering dope headache and sour taste in my mouth shoves me out of bed and into the bathroom.
I potter about, cleaning my teeth and starting the shower.
I’d always thought cruise ships had poky bathrooms, but this has a full-size walk-in shower and even a whirlpool bath.
I step under the spray with a hiss of appreciation.
The water is hot and I duck my head, feeling the steam twine around me and ease my chest. It seems to cleanse away all the cobwebs from my head which is probably why I stiffen in shock as I soap myself up. What the fuck?
I stare ahead for a second and then, without stopping to switch the shower off or even rinse the soap off me, I grab a towel and wind it round my waist. I march through the suite, but I can’t see any sign of him in the lounge or out on the deck. His bedroom door is wide open, so I race towards it.
When I clear the door, he looks up. He’s sitting in the armchair looking out of the window, his face lined with thoughts. He jumps up as I barge into the room.
“Gideon?” he says quickly. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“You kissed me,” I blurt out, my voice loud in the quiet of the room. “I mean, we kissed each other.”
“Oh my God,” he says, digging his fingers into his eyes. When he brings his hands down, he looks apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Mr Ramsay.” I glare at him and he stumbles over his words. “I mean Gideon. I’m so sorry. You can have my resignation immediately.”
“I don’t want your bloody resignation,” I say harshly. “Why the fuck would I want that?”
“Because I’m your nurse. I’ve crossed so many guidelines I think I’m one paragraph short of a manual on how not to lose your job spectacularly.”
I shake my head impatiently. “Eli, I am a thirty-nine-year-old man who has largely recovered from pneumonia aside from dope-related incidents. I have all my faculties and manage to walk, talk, and down the pills the doctor gave me. I am not Elizabeth Barrett Browning and you’re not exactly taking advantage.
” I swallow. “I also seem to remember telling you a few secrets.”
“They’re still secrets,” he says immediately, his honest face looking impassioned. “They always will be with me.” Almost as if it’s against his knowledge, he drifts closer. My heart picks up speed, thundering against my ribcage. “You remember, then?”
“I remember,” I say hoarsely. I raise my hands tentatively and touch his hips. It’s a gentle touch, my fingertips barely skimming him, but he shudders. Our eyes meet and refuse to let go in the pregnant silence. In the next second, we fly at each other.
Our mouths meet and teeth clash, and then we’re eating at each other’s mouths furiously as if all of the attraction has exploded like a comet.
I rub my tongue against his and moan deep in my chest when he begins to suck on my tongue lazily, sending pulses of need that seem to echo the beat of the blood in my dick.
I groan as he suddenly pushes me back against the wall, letting his body weight fall into me.
I feel cool air as my towel succumbs to gravity and I grab his hips and pull him closer.
His cock is hard and rubs deliciously against mine.
He takes my mouth again, sucking on my tongue as his hand comes down between us, and I cry out as his hard palm encircles my cock.
He moves his hand up and down, collecting the pre-come gathering at the head, and I tear my lips away, panting furiously.
He moans low and follows my mouth almost drunkenly, only to jerk as the front door of the suite bangs open.
A male voice shouts, “Gideon, where are you?”
I close my eyes despairingly as his hand falls away. “It’s fucking Frankie,” I whisper. “Shit!”