“Wow,” I managed finally.
“You’ll kill me,” he muttered with his lips at my jaw. “We’re going to end up fucking each other to death.”
“Me? I didn’t do anything.” He’d controlled me completely and how freakin’ sexy was that?
“You’re breathing. That’s enough.”
I laughed, hugging him.
Lifting his head, he nuzzled my nose. “We’re going to eat, and then we’ll do that again.”
My brows lifted. “You can do that again?”
“All night.” He rolled his hips and I could feel that he was still semi-hard.
“You’re a machine,” I told him. “Or a god.”
“It’s you.” With a soft sweet kiss, he left me. He removed the condom, wrapped it in a tissue from the nightstand, and tossed the whole in the wastebasket by the bed. “We’ll shower, then order from the restaurant downstairs. Unless you want to go down?”
“I don’t think I can walk.”
The flash of his grin stopped my heart for a minute. “Glad I’m not the only one.”
“You look fine.”
“I feel phenomenal.” He sat back on the side of the bed and brushed my hair back from my forehead. His face was soft, his smile warmly affectionate.
I thought I saw something else in his eyes and the possibility closed my throat. It scared me.
“Shower with me,” he said, running his hand down my arm.
“Gimme me a minute to find my brain, then I’ll join you.”
“Okay.” He went into the bathroom, giving me a prime view of his sculpted back and perfect ass. I sighed with pure female appreciation of a prime male specimen.
The water came on in the shower. I managed to sit up and slide my legs over the side of the bed, feeling exquisitely shaky. My gaze caught on the slightly open bedside drawer and I saw condoms through the gap.
My stomach twisted. The hotel was too upscale to be the kind that provided condoms along with the requisite Bible.
With a slightly trembling hand, I pulled the drawer out further and found a sizable quantity of prophylactics, including a bottle of feminine lubrication and spermicidal gel. My heart started pounding all over again. In my mind, I backtracked through our lust-fueled trip to the hotel. Gideon hadn’t asked which rooms were available. Whether he had a master key or not, he’d need to know which rooms were occupied before he took one…unless he’d known beforehand that this particular room would be empty.
Clearly it was his room—a fuck pad outfitted with everything he’d need to have a good time with the women who served that purpose in his life.
As I pushed to my feet and walked over to the closet, I heard the glass shower door open in the bathroom, then close. I caught the two knobs of the louvered walnut closet doors and pushed them apart. There was a small selection of men’s clothes hanging on the metal rod, some business shirts and slacks, as well as khakis and jeans. My temperature dropped and a sick misery spread through my orgasmic high.
The right side dresser drawers held neatly folded T-shirts, boxer briefs, and socks. The top one on the left side held sex toys still in their packages. I didn’t look at the drawers below that one. I’d seen enough.
I pulled on my pants and stole one of Gideon’s shirts. As I dressed, my mind went through the steps I’d learned in therapy: Talk it out. Explain what triggered the negative feelings to your partner. Face the trigger and work through it.
Maybe if I’d been less shaken by the depth of my feelings for Gideon, I could have done all that. Maybe if we hadn’t just had mind-blowing sex, I would have felt less raw and vulnerable. I’d never know. What I felt was slightly dirty, a little bit used, and a whole lot hurt. This particular revelation had hit me with excruciating force, and like a child, I wanted to hurt him back.