“It was nice,” he mumbled, still-trembling body countering his faint praise.
“If that’s you angling for a repeat, you might need to wait.” I laughed because as much as I’d come in my pants like a horny teen, I wasn’t twenty anymore, and even with Gideon as incentive, I needed a minute before I did something about that nice.
“I can be patient.” He managed a fake humble tone before breaking off into musical laughter. “Did we scare the dog?”
I glanced over at the now-empty dog bed. “Apparently, she decided we needed privacy.”
“We did.” Gideon snickered. “You were right as well. Perfect nap couch. Damn. I needed that.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Fuck. It was scary how much I had, how quickly we’d gone from furniture moving to making out, and how damn badly I wanted to do it all again. And shouldn’t for a whole host of reasons that had me scrubbing at my hair.
Making a clucking noise, Gideon calmly removed my hand and returned it to his back. “You’re thinking about freaking out. Don’t.”
“Because you have decorating to do?” I wasn’t entirely joking. Much as he’d been into the making out, he was entirely too invested in the decorating plans, and I didn’t doubt that he’d throw me over for a perfectly placed garland or sparkly ornament.
“Exactly.” He nodded sharply, chin digging into my chest. And it would be easy, so easy to simply let him have his way. But I shouldn’t. Because it wasn’t going to be December forever, and we still had to live next door to each other come January.
“Gideon…”
“That is a ‘we need to talk’ voice. And we don’t.” His tone was so stern I almost expected him to whip out a ruler. “We had stupendous orgasms together. I’d like to do it again.”
“Well, at least I earned a stupendous there.” I laughed because I couldn’t argue with the wanting to do it again. I wanted that too. So much that my brain was already buzzing with possibilities, things I’d like to try, ways I might coax out more laughter, more praise.
“You can earn more. Later.”
“Later.” I wasn’t sure exactly what I was promising. Maybe he was right, and this was as simple as some kissing we both wanted to do. Whatever the case, he was absolutely right that examining it too closely would be a bad idea. Later. Later I would figure everything out, but not before I soaked up some more of Gideon’s holiday magic.
Chapter Fourteen
Looking for a tree? My oldest has his first real part-time job at Murphy’s tree lot on the other side of the park. Stop by! He’ll load you up! ~Molly Reed posted to the What’s Up Neighbor app
Gideon
“The time has come,” I announced as Paul opened his front door. His kitchen light had been on as I came home from work, but I hadn’t wanted to be presumptuous. Even if we did have an appointment.
“Oh?” Paul’s heated look as he ushered me into the dim foyer said he most certainly had not checked the schedule.
“To get you a tree.” I held up said schedule, helpful smile firmly in place. Him thinking I was there on a sexy mission was nice though. The last few days, we’d alternated awkward chitchat and flirty innuendo, but as of yet, we hadn’t repeated the couch tango. Maybe this would be my lucky night. But first, I had a mission. “The tree lots are packed on weekends. Wednesday night is a good time to get a nice one, rest it on the porch, then decorate it when we’re ready.”
“Hold up. A real tree?” Paul frowned, deep furrow across his forehead. Like me, he’d probably recently arrived home because he still had on thick work socks, faded jeans, and a T-shirt advertising his business.
“Yes. Of course. You want the best backdrop for Brandon’s proposal. And I still need a tree for my place.” I’d been looking forward to this for days now. I’d probably still end up decorating mine on my own, but the coziness of joint tree shopping was too appealing to pass up. “We can each—”
“Gideon.” Paul’s expression was way too serious as he cut me off. “I can’t do a real tree, sorry. The fire hazard…” He took a shuddery breath. “I thought you knew.”
“I should have,” I said miserably, bitterly disappointed in myself. With someone else, I might have tried logic, explaining how regular watering cut way down on the risk, but this was Paul, and he was deathly pale. There was a fire… An apology, not an argument, was what was called for. “The fire hazard. You’re right. I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“It’s all right.” More of Paul’s Philly accent came out when he was upset, the “all right” rough. “Just one of those weird quirks. It wasn’t even a tree fire, just faulty wiring, but I can’t do candles at all either. No open flames. Fire pits and grills make me antsy too. But it’s not your fault.”
The way he said it, all quiet and resigned, hit me square in the gut. This was a guy who knew self-blame a little too well, and I hated that for him.
“Hey, I thought we agreed the other day that it’s okay to say when something sucks.” I shifted from foot to foot, mind racing to find a way to save this evening. Having upset him made my stomach roil.
“Yeah. It does suck. But I don’t mean to push my phobias on you.” His mouth twisted.
“You’re not. It’s not even that weird of a quirk. Everyone has their fears. I’m scared of the dark,” I blurted, hating the self-deprecating way Paul kept talking. I rarely shared that information, but if it made him feel better, I could humble myself a little.
“You? King of the lights?” Paul laughed, but his eyes were kind.