Gideon (Boyfriend for Hire Book 3)

by RJ Scott

  “Cute,” Gideon whispered in his ear and Rowan was convinced his face was beet-red. “I love this.” Gideon held him tightly, burying his face in Rowan’s hair.

  Rowan closed his eyes and hugged Gideon’s arm to him. Love. Though Gideon hadn’t been exactly talking about him, the word elicited a warmth, which spread through his body.

  When was the last time someone told me they loved me? Love in that way, romantic, not just his family.

  Gideon snuggled close, wriggling to lay properly on the bed.

  So warm. So comfortable.

  “Your shirt will get creased,” Rowan said.

  “It’s fine.” Gideon pressed a kiss to the top of Rowan’s head. “I want to stay like this for a while longer.”

  Rowan leaned his head back, catching Gideon’s mouth in a kiss. He smiled. “Me too.” He rolled onto his side, draped his leg over Gideon’s, and hugged his waist. “Merry Christmas,” he said and settled his head on Gideon’s shoulder.

  Gideon stroked his hair and pressed more kisses to his hair, forehead, and the end of his nose.

  “Love…” Rowan mumbled, sleepily. “…this…too.”

  Fourteen

  Gideon

  Gideon had mixed feelings about leaving the house and Rowan’s family. They were hugging him and making him promise to visit again. He was swept up in the agreement that he would. Not to mention Deon stared miserably at him. If that was even a thing dogs could do.

  “I’ll miss you, yes I will, yes I will,” he dispensed belly rubs and affection to Deon, Dog, and Widget, and even Bear ambled over for some action. Gideon thought he could see guilt in Bear’s wide brown eyes. He pressed a kiss to the end of his nose and whispered he forgave him. For a cat-guy, he was certainly being won over by the motley pack of rescues.

  As soon as they turned off the property and onto the main road home, he and Rowan were alone. All too soon they would have to face up to what they’d done when they were here, and Gideon quietly worked his way through the concerns until he’d convinced himself of one thing.

  Maybe they shouldn’t have done what they’d done.

  Call it Christmas sparkles, or alcohol, or forced proximity in a snowy cabin, but what happened should have never happened for so many rational reasons. For one, he was Rowan’s boss. Away from the influences of the season, he and Rowan had to maintain a corporate relationship that didn’t involve Gideon bending his PA over a desk or holding him up against a damn filing cabinet. Also, how was Rowan ever going to respect him as a boss or follow rules or—

  “Earth to Gideon, calling Gideon.”

  Gideon snapped back to reality and glanced at Rowan, who was competently navigating the backroads that would eventually lead to the highway.

  “Huh?” he managed when all the breath left his chest and images of making love to this man were so strong in his thoughts. Coherency was the last thing on his list of abilities right now.

  “Your thought bubbles are getting in my way,” he grouched and made a show of shoving at an imaginary bubble while driving with one hand.

  “Hands on the wheel,” Gideon warned.

  Rowan rolled his eyes and gave the thought bubble one last shove, wincing and pretending it snapped back and hit him. “Seriously, open a window and let them out.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “You’re overthinking.”

  Gideon huffed. “You’re my PA.”

  “You’re overthinking.”

  “You work for me.”

  “You. Are. Overthinking,” Rowan said with an exaggerated sigh.

  Gideon subsided into silence. Arms crossed over his chest, watching the countryside pass them by. Freaking Rowan and his stupid ass thought bubbles were going to be the death of him, and now they’d gone a step further and actually got each other off. They’d crossed that line between boss and employee. That wasn’t going to end well.

  “I promise I won’t ask you to fuck me over the desk when we have clients in the office,” Rowan stated. “Does that help?”

  “What the hell?”

  “I know what you’re thinking.” He put on the annoying fake voice that Gideon hated, the one he used whenever he was schooling Gideon in how to act in polite company. “Hell, we got each other off. Oh no, I want to fuck Rowan over my desk. Oh shit, what if a client sees that, and jeez, what if Rowan doesn’t respect me anymore? Not to mention I really like Rowan, and we’re friends, and oh shit, have I fucked it all up?”

  Gideon side-eyed him then faced front. So what if Rowan was mostly right about all that? Not about the client thing, after all the office door had a lock and the windows had blinds, but still, the respect they had achieved working together.

  “I am not thinking any of that,” he lied.

  “Yes, you are,” Rowan insister. He pulled off the road in front of a gate to a wide-open field then killed the engine. “And I am too.”

  For the first time in a long while Gideon was at a loss for words. “You are?”

  “Of course I am. I love my job. If you said I was fired, and that I wouldn’t able to do it anymore, I’d be gutted. Not only do I love the people and making sense of the chaos and what we do, but I love working for your grumpy ass the most.”

  “I wouldn’t tell you that you were fired,” Gideon defended. “I have no grounds to fire you.”

  “You’re missing the point, Gids,” he grumbled and placed his hands on the steering wheel, resting his head on them momentarily.

  “What point?”

  “The one where I tell you how much I love my job, and you read between the lines and tell me I’m indispensable, and you couldn’t run Bryant & Waites without me.”

  “You are indispensable, and I couldn’t run Bryant & Waites without you.”

  Rowan shook his head. “Once more with feeling.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Rowan. I’m feeling as though everything is out of control, and we shouldn’t have done what we did, and the one thing which frames my life, my company, is going to be ruined without you there.”

  Sadness washed over Rowan’s expression. “I see.”

  “What? What do you see?” Gideon wished he saw something in what he’d said.

  “You don’t want me there now. I should have known this would happen.” In a smooth, swift move, he removed his seatbelt and slid out of the car, pacing away and leaning on the fence. He had no coat on, and when Gideon followed him, the icy wind was biting.

  “I don’t understand—”

  “You said, and I quote, the company will be ruined without me there, ergo, I’m fired.”

  “No. I didn’t say that. I meant if you leave. If I’ve fucked things up and you leave.”

  Rowan turned to face him, his foot up on the bottom rung, his hands forced into his pockets and his skin pale with cold.

  “I’m not leaving,” Rowan was defiant.

  “I’m not asking you to leave,” Gideon defended.

  They stayed in the face-off for a time, staring at each other until Rowan started to shiver. They bundled back into the car, and Rowan turned it on and cranked the heater, blowing warm air on them. Gideon wanted to lighten the angst going on in here, but he struggled for something light and witty that wouldn’t be taken out of context. Rowan came to his rescue, the same as every other time.

  “Next time I storm off dramatically remind me to take a coat.”

  “I will.”

  Rowan belted up, and Gideon followed suit. Rowan then summed up what was going to happen next. “Let’s get home and then maybe we talk, but for now, can we just admit this break was freaking awesome, despite your sore knee, us in bed was fantastic, and neither of us will fuck things up at work.”

  “Agreed.”

  Rowan nodded and concentrated on pulling out onto the road. “I’m turning the music way up so there is no room in the car for thought bubbles.”

  Gideon couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that, and suddenly he felt lighter as if maybe the currently
loud Mariah Carey song was drowning out his fears. Halfway home, as he listened to Rowan sing along to Mariah and Wham, and God knows what else appeared to be playing on repeat, he fell asleep. The next thing he knew, just as the dream involving Rowan and the coffee maker in the kitchen was getting to the good bits, Rowan poked at his arm then shook him.

  “We’re back,” he said cheerfully, but not quite meeting Gideon’s gaze. Gideon blinked up at his apartment building. “Do you want a hand with your bags? Not that I’m saying you can’t lift bags, but your knee—”

  Gideon reached over and placed a hand over Rowan’s mouth. Sometimes it was the only way to stop the rambling that spilled out.

  “Do you want to come in?” Gideon asked softly, and Rowan’s eyes widened.

  “What are you asking?”

  “You know what I’m asking.” The dream was still too real, and Rowan was a drug Gideon was slowly becoming addicted to. “Come in, I’ll get us a drink, we can talk about what’s happening next, and I have some things I think we should cover.”

  Rowan stared at him for a few seconds, and then he reversed the car to straighten it in the on-street parking and finally he pulled the permit out from the glove box. Gideon had arranged for Rowan to have a permit for when they had meetings after office hours, but he couldn’t even recall the last time Rowan had to use it.

  That’s because you spend as much time as you can at the office to be near Rowan.

  Between them they collected his bags from the trunk and hurried up the steps and into the apartment. Gideon fumbled with the key in his icy hands. As soon as the door shut behind them, the warmth of his home surrounded them. He loved this place, solid and stable, and everything he needed when he’d left home. It was also similar to what Luke and him had always dreamed of buying together—a pipe dream but a dream nonetheless. It was weird having Rowan in his place, but there was something happening between them, and Gideon needed time to think things through. He dropped his bag in the hall and hung up his coat, wishing he’d worn it from the car as Rowan did because the temperature had dropped significantly with darkness, and he was ice from the toes up. In the dim light, he realized he could see Rowan staring at him.

  “What?” he asked carefully as Rowan took a step closer and went up on tiptoes to cradle his face.

  “I don’t want to talk,” Rowan groaned.

  “You want to go home? That’s cool, I can—”

  Rowan kissed him, forcefully, pressing him back until he was against the wall. “Tell me you have supplies here,” he demanded between kisses, and Gideon stopped fighting. They kissed and stumbled toward the bedroom. Rowan knocked his ass against furniture twice before Gideon dragged him close, steadied him in an embrace, and then he forcibly stopped Rowan from moving, bracketing him between Gideon’s body and the wall.

  “Rowan,” he began and then ran out of words.

  “In. Me. Now,” Rowan said very deliberately and loudly so that Gideon was under no illusion as to what Rowan wanted. The words were the match to the kindling, and somehow they made it into Gideon’s bedroom, kissing even as Gideon tried to root around for condoms that he knew he had in his top drawer. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had someone over, tending to go to their places or a hotel, but he had to have condoms to go with the ever-present lube. Rowan slapped away his hand and broke the kiss, finding the condoms in the space of a few seconds, and then shoved Gideon onto the bed. Just that single aggressive move had Gideon harder than he’d ever been, and desperate for a taste of Rowan. Typical that his bossy PA was just as bossy in bed when he yanked at Gideon’s shoes, pants, socks, shirt, and boxers until Gideon was naked and Rowan was still dressed.

  “Jesus,” Rowan muttered, staring down at Gideon’s cock and rapidly removing his own clothes, dropping condoms and lube to the quilt, and then clambering up to straddle Gideon’s thighs. “We need to do this,” he added, and Gideon wondered who he was trying to convince. There was desperation in their movements. This wasn’t going to be long, slow lovemaking where they took their time. When Rowan slathered lube on his hand and began stretching himself, Gideon had to focus one hundred percent to even get the condom out of the wrapper.

  Rowan leaned his head back, arching over Gideon, then collapsed on him and kissed him desperately. The angle meant Gideon's cock slid from Rowan's balls to his hole and back again, over and over, and Gideon could come from this feeling alone.

  Rowan shuffled back a little, and then he nodded at Gideon. “In. Me,” he growled, and they seemed to come together like magic. As if they were meant to fit. Gideon pressed inside, and Rowan mewled as his body tensed then relaxed. When he was fully seated, Rowan leaned back again, supporting himself with his hands on Gideon’s knees, Gideon nearly lost it there and then.

  Rowan moved. Slowly at first and then faster as Gideon brought up his knees and Rowan didn’t have to support himself. Only then did they meet for awkwardly sloppy kisses that were nothing but lust to drive them higher.

  “Fuck,” Rowan whined, dropping lower, lifting up, the muscles in his thighs bunching as he moved. “I love this. I love…” Gideon had never seen anything so perfect, so strong, and so sexy. He closed his fingers around Rowan’s neglected cock, setting up a counter rhythm so that Rowan fucked down onto Gideon’s cock and then up into the fist. He didn’t last long, and with a cry, his orgasm blew him apart and streaks of cum painted Gideon’s chest and hand. Just that single thing and the ecstasy on Rowan’s face was enough to push Gideon over the edge, and he fucked hard into Rowan’s tight ass. They stilled as Rowan leaned down and kissed him, and Gideon slowly rocked his hips, chasing the last of the orgasm.

  He took care of Rowan, cleaned them up, tucked Rowan into the bed then climbed in himself. He opened his arms and Rowan snuggled in, burying his face in Gideon’s neck for the longest time.

  “Can we talk now?” Gideon asked. This had the potential to be more serious than just sex, and he needed to make sure they were on the same page.

  Rowan yawned. “Unless it’s goodnight, can it wait?”

  “It can wait.”

  “Well,” he said sleepily. “There we go,” he added, and then he seemed to fall asleep, while Gideon held him tight and let sleep take him under too.

  What would they talk about in the morning? Gideon wanted to explain about Luke, about his life, about how he was and what he wanted, but what could he possibly say that would make sense of this new connection? They were good in bed. They laughed. They were closer than friends—maybe it was time for Gideon to think long term, and to actually invest his heart in something that wasn’t work. He’d lost Luke so many years ago, and he never thought he’d love again, but Rowan was working his way under Gideon’s skin, and Gideon didn’t want him to leave. Ever.

  But when sunlight streamed in past open blinds and woke up Gideon, he reached for Rowan.

  Rowan was gone.

  Fifteen

  Rowan

  Rowan held out his hand in front of him, eyeing the key that swung on his middle finger. The morning sunlight caught the metal surface, and he squinted as the light flickered in his eyes. He let the key dangle against his palm, along with the small silver cat keychain it was connected to.

  With a sigh, he took out his phone, eyed the text message he’d received that morning from Darcy enquiring how his Christmas had gone.

  How had it gone? He’d been able to get closer to Gideon, whether that was a good thing, he still wasn’t sure. He had tried his best to stop Gideon from voicing the very concerns he had himself. They’d talked briefly on the ride home, but last night was supposed to have been their opportunity to talk. Really talk. He got the sense that Gideon had something to tell him, but that could be some long-winded reasoning as to why they couldn’t be a couple, so instead of talking, Rowan had used his body and distracted Gideon with sex.

  Rowan rubbed his brow. He wondered if Gideon had woken up yet. What would he think to find Rowan was gone?

  I’m not gone, just
…hesitating.

  He was crouched on the sidewalk, his back against Gideon’s building. The growl of his stomach had driven him outside in search of breakfast. Gideon’s refrigerator and cupboards were not so surprisingly empty, considering the Christmas break. He’d always imagined Gideon to be a more eat-out kind of person than a home cook. He had thought it might be some sweet romantic gesture to step out, come back with takeout coffees and rolls filled with tasty breakfast stuff. Having only gotten as far as the street, a blast of fresh air slapped him back to reality. They needed to talk. Rowan wanted Gideon. He also wanted to keep his job. There had always been a hint of flirty fun in their interactions, so he was sure he could walk the line of colleagues and lovers. However, if Gideon decided a relationship wouldn’t work, could they really go back to normal, to how they used to be? Could Rowan ignore the things they’d done, the feelings he’d admitted to?

  “This makes my head hurt.” He bent forward, holding his head in his hands. Or maybe it was his heart that stung the most. He’d admired Gideon, teased him, slowly gotten closer, and now he was there, the chance to be something closer than a PA, and he was freaking out.

  I know what I want. I’ve wanted Gideon for…years. Even when I was with other men, Gideon always had a space in my heart. He lifted his head and stared at the wet sidewalk. I’ve always sucked at relationships. Or maybe it was the relationships that sucked. Ones he’d too quickly jumped into because of fickle motives and flimsy emotions from one party or the other. I should head back inside. Say things properly.

  “Are you okay?” someone said as a shadow cast over him.

  Rowan raised his head. Before him stood an elderly woman. She was wrapped warmly in a knee-length coat, scarf, gloves, and fur-lined boots, with bags of shopping in her hands. A taxi pulled away behind her. Rowan smiled, recognizing her as Gideon’s neighbor. “Mrs. Hallewell, how are you?”

  Her brow furrowed as she looked him over. Rowan had only met her a few times, so he could understand if she didn’t know who he was. “Oh, you’re Gideon’s friend,” she said, finally. “The one whose family he was spending Christmas with.”