Page 122 of Reluctantly You
“Sorry about him. He’s just…lost his mind.”
I swallow and glance away. “It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. None of this was fucking fine. The last few months have been hell. I was left alone, they abandoned me. Or maybe I pushed them away. Doesn’t fucking matter, the outcome was the same.
The only one I had was Gideon.
He was with me through the darkest parts.
And yet, even still, I can’t blame him.
“So, are you two really just…friends? Even though he’s your boss?” Matt asks, and Coop nudges him.
“Matthew, honestly. Do I need to tape your mouth shut?”
Gideon’s hand leaves my thigh, and I feel the absence of it palpably.
“Yes. We’re just friends.”
Gideon’s words echo in my head and I feel my stomach churn. Is that what we are to one another? He sucks my cock, eats my ass, makes me beg. I’d say we’re a little more thanfriends.
“Fuck off,” I murmur, and Gideon’s lips twitch, a small smirk forming on his lips. But nothing more is said about it. Nothing at all. We just move on to other topics of conversation, Matt’s job, Coop’s plans to travel to Canada with Matt and collect fucking seashells, Max and Beau’s attempt at growing vegetables in the garden with a chaotic dog.
And Gideon even shows them my art.
When he did that, I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear forever.
By the time they leave, Gideon’s words have spun a toxic web in my mind and I’m left fuming. Little Pants must sense itbecause she’s up in her cat tree, clawing at the fabric like crazy. Either that or she’s pissed her new friend, Doggo, has left.
“Why are you frowning so much?” Gideon asks as he helps me clean up the kitchen. Food is stored in the fridge and empty drinks are placed in the recycling bin. And all I can think of is that he said we were friends.
Emery and I might be friends. The guys I occasionally play sports with could be called friends.
Gideon and I are not.
“I’m not frowning,” I reply as I crush a can in my hand and toss it toward the bin. It misses and lands on the ground with a clatter.
“You’re a grump. You’ve been stewing ever since you told your brothers you liked cock.”
I huff and shove at him, making him stumble to the side slightly.
He squares his shoulders and clenches his jaw.
“It’s true. You love cock, Mitchell. You love my cock. There’s nothing to be upset about.”
“I’m not fucking upset by that.”
“Then what is it?”
I can’t say it, can’t admit it. “Nothing.”
“Tell me,” he says, his hand grabbing on to my neck, rough and yet gentle, holding me in place, forcing me to face the truth. “Tell me the fucking reason you’ve been pissed all evening.”
I swallow, my Adam’s apple bobbing against his palm. My cock is twitching in my pants, wanting to be touched, to be satisfied.
I want more. I want it all.
I already came out, in my own way. I admitted it out loud.