Page 32 of Gideon (Finding Home #3)

He kisses my hair, inhaling as if taking my scent into him. “Let me look after you,” he says softly. “Come on. Get into bed, sweetheart.”

“I’m quite positive I can look after myself. And I’m not sure about the sweetheart business either,” I try to say in my usual testy way, but he just smiles.

“Yes, you are. You just don’t want to admit it.”

He pushes me into the bed, ignoring my protests, and disappears.

I hear a tap running and a light switch off and then he’s back, sending a warm, damp towel over me, wiping away the sweat and cleaning my hole.

It’s still sensitive and feels horribly empty, and when I flinch he croons softly.

Then I draw in a sharp breath as he swings into bed with me and pets my hole almost affectionately.

I tense but he does nothing apart from hold his fingers there, rubbing gently, and I relax against them like a candle melting.

“There,” he croons softly. “Does that feel better?”

“It actually does,” I murmur, staring into his eyes and feeling absurdly shy.

This man just stripped me, rimmed me, and fucked me so hard I can still feel it.

I have never given up that much control.

But as I stare into his eyes that are their usual clear olive green again and brimming with affection and what looks very much like pride, the vulnerable feeling seeps away.

It’s replaced by a confused mix of gratitude, pride that I pleased him, and this warm affectionate feeling that makes me want to sling my arms round him and cuddle.

I wrinkle my nose. What the fuck? I do not cuddle .

I send the men onwards with a careless thanks as soon as we’re done and relish having the bed to myself.

Which is why I find myself bewildered when I allow him to nestle into me, turning me on my side rather bossily and pushing up against my back. He rubs my hole once more and then slings his arm over me.

“Are you cuddling me?” I ask tentatively.

“I am,” he says sleepily, and I feel affection for him run suddenly through me like fire.

“What happened to the demon boss of the bedchamber?” There’s a slight hesitation and I crane my neck. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been told before that I’m too forceful in bed.”

I feel a flare of jealousy at the thought of those unseen lovers of his and quash it because it makes me a gigantic hypocrite.

“I think you were just what I needed,” I finally say slowly, the desire to reassure him stronger than my desire not to flay my skin open. “I’ve never felt like that in sex before. It’s always been more of a journey from a to b.” I pause. “That was more like the whole fucking alphabet.”

His body eases its tension and he chuckles. “How about if the bossy me is only around during sex and then only when you need it. I can’t be like that in life. When sex is over, this is what you get. A nice cwtch .”

“Cutch?”

“There aren’t any vowels in it.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Welsh,” he says in explanation.

“What does it mean?”

“It’s something more than a cuddle. Something absolutely lovely. I love a good cwtch .”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had whatever that word is.”

“Well now, that’s just sad.”

I shrug. “I think you have to be cuddly and loveable. I’m not that.”

“No, you’re pricklier than a cross porcupine. But even cranky porcupines need a cuddle.”

“ Cuddling ,” I say in a revolted voice that I immediately spoil by nestling closer to him.

I feel his laugh running down my spine. “Yep. Get over it, Gid. Accept what’s coming to you.”

“If I must.” I snuggle into his body, inhaling the warm, sweet smell of him. “You smell gorgeous,” I say suddenly. “Like coconut.”

“It’s my body lotion,” he says with a yawn. “My skin gets dry. I can’t remember what it’s called. It’s from Superdrug.”

I have slept with many men in my life, and the only trace they’d left when they’d gone was the expensive designer aftershave on the sheets.

I’m utterly charmed that this man wears a body lotion from Superdrug.

“Don’t change it,” I say impulsively. “It’s the smell of you in my head.

I love it.” I go rigid with embarrassment, but he doesn’t react apart from gripping me tighter.

“I won’t change it if you do the same. Your smell is so sexy and warm. Just like you.”

“Okay,” I say softly. I really want to query that statement because I know I’m not warm, but the quiet darkness feels so intimate and safe around us. It’s enough for me to say what’s really bothering me. “Was that wrong what we did?” I say softly. “Was I what you needed, never mind what I needed?”

He tenses and sits up, pulling my face gently to look at him. His expression is earnest. “You were everything I needed, Gid. I’ve never had sex like that either. It was right and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it.” He pauses. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” I say slowly, taking his fingers and tapping over my heart. “In here I believe you.” I sigh. “It’s just the rest of me that might struggle to catch up.”

“We’ll go slow, then,” he says and lies back down, pushing up against me. I feel the warmth of his arms, the heat of his breaths, and I exhale slowly.

I’ve never felt so warm. I pause. I’ve never felt so safe. It’s the last thought I have before I fall asleep.