Chapter 10

10

He made it difficult to be good.

André swallowed back the automatic yes . Gideon Winters made him want to forget. He entertained giving in to Gideon's indecent proposal for far longer than he probably should have.

There was something in the way Gideon's heady scent flowed toward him, warm and intoxicating, as if sleep only turned him more potent. Something in the way his fingertips pinched into the soft flesh of André's wrist...

He wanted to give in.

Wanted to have Gideon back on his tongue again. His body moved before his head caught up, swaying into the pulling warmth of Gideon's body. He looked so good in that bed, something André had been trying so hard not to notice. When Gideon left, his scent would be all over the sheets. The pillows.

A thrill shot through André at the thought, sinking low into his groin, making his dick jerk and his balls ache. He shouldn't be feeling this way about Gideon Winters. He was everything André hated, everything he swore he'd never entertain.

It was men like Gideon who'd hurt André's mother. A man just like Gideon who'd cast her aside, tossing money at her to ensure she stayed gone.

That reminder only cooled André's lust the smallest bit as he stared into Gideon's eyes. This close, they were like live fucking sockets, and André shivered when a shock rolled through him.

"I'm not fucking you." He uttered the words once. Then twice. "I'm not fucking you." This one was to himself. A promise. A vow he really hoped he'd be able to keep.

Gideon's lips curved even as disappointment flashed in his eyes. "You should tell your dick that." He dropped his gaze to André's crotch, where his dick was indeed all perked up and doing its best to tear through his jeans, then leaned forward to whisper in André's ear, "He wants me." He pulled back slowly, meeting André's gaze as he licked his lips, and André wanted to punch him because why was that simple gesture so hot?

Why did his dick jerk in agonized response? André tore his hand away and jumped to his feet. "I think you should leave." He rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs. "Or I—Jules and I—should leave."

Gideon leaned back against the pillows and folded his arms. "Yeah?" He didn't say anything else, but his tone…

André took a step back, nodding quickly. "Y-yeah, I think Jules and I should leave. Being here is— We shouldn't have come here." Looking back now, he couldn't even remember why he'd thought staying had been a good idea. "I'm sure it's safe to go home now." It had to be, right?

"You're sure?" Gideon repeated slowly. His eyes darkened, giving a hint of his mood, but André didn't care. He and Jules needed to get back to their lives.

"Listen, it's not like I don't appreciate what you've done for us," he said carefully. "But even you have to admit, us being here with you is— It's crazy."

Gideon held his gaze without blinking. André tried to act as if that shit, along with the other man's silence, didn't freak him out. But Gideon had to understand where he was coming from; they were two different men, and it didn't matter that André was attracted to him. It didn't matter that Jules liked Gideon.

It couldn't matter.

They were from two completely different worlds, and André couldn't allow himself to be swayed by Gideon's hypnotic scent and the way he kissed. Nor by the promise of having the other man's mouth on any other part of his body—despite what his traitorous dick wanted.

Gideon got off the bed, and André inhaled sharply when he straightened to his full height. Even all creased and rumpled from sleep, he was still the sexiest, the most dangerous…

He made André's mouth water with just a glance, and that right there was proof enough that André needed to get as far away from him as possible.

Gideon stepped forward.

André took a step back.

Gideon came forward and André retreated.

Again and again, until he was backed against the wall and Gideon was on him, close enough to touch. But they weren't touching. And he didn't want them to. He didn't. They were close enough for him to be able to make out the flecks of golden brown in Gideon's eyes and the tiniest freckles that dotted his nose and under his eyes.

André's fingers twitched to touch them, trace them, count them.

He didn't.

Because every time he inhaled he took Gideon's scent into his lungs, and it felt as if it were burning away his resistance, breath by breath. "Gideon."

"There are men out there sent to kill you," Gideon said finally. Softly, as if talking to a petulant child. "Forget about your stubborn ass for a minute; how will you keep your sister safe? The police are bought and paid for?—"

"By you!" André blurted.

"Yes." Gideon nodded calmly. "But only because my check is bigger. You can't go to them for help because you can't afford them. Who will protect Juliette, André? Because you can't."

Shame washed over André as Gideon said it so plainly. Laying out André's failing in front of him so there'd be no mistaking…he was a failure.

"Hey." A rough, warm touch settled on André's jaw, and it took a moment to realize Gideon was touching him—cupping his chin, holding him steady, and peering into his eyes. "That is not to make you feel bad." He shifted in closer. "It's a reminder that you're playing out of your league. You are not prepared." His grip tightened on André's face. "But I am. I will protect you and Juliette. I swear it."

He'd done enough so far, but what André wanted to know was… "Why? Why would you do this for us?" He didn't think he'd fully understand Gideon's motives and he needed to.

It took a while for Gideon to answer, and in the silence that settled over them, André watched him struggle internally. Was he deciding what he could and couldn't share with André?

"You're using me to get close to my—to Ennis Canto, and I want to know why. You think he's the one behind what happened to me and Jules, and I want to know why. I need the truth from you," André pressed him. "I deserve that."

Gideon nodded once. "You do." He dropped his hand from André's face finally, and André battled the urge to grab that hand and put it back where it was. Fuck.

"I believe Ennis Canto is involved—somehow—in the shooting that killed my mother." And Gideon shared, in a tone that belied the anger in his eyes, what happened to him and his family all those years ago.

André inhaled sharply when he was finished, rocking back on his heels. "What the fuck? And you think my—Ennis—is behind it? That's—that can't be right."

"If he's not involved then he has information on who is."

André shook his head. "Okay, that's—" Fucked up was what it was. "But what does that have to do with me?"

Gideon shrugged. "He wants you dead. I want to know why."

So did André. "But Jules and I don't need to be here for that, do we?"

"You do." Gideon touched him again, the slide of a fingertip down André's nose, over his lips, lingering there. "Because I want you to stay. I like Juliette. And I like you."

"Do you?" André narrowed his eyes, pretending as if he didn't want to dart his tongue out to lick Gideon's finger. "Or do you just want to fuck me?"

Gideon chuckled. "There is no just , I told you already." He dipped his head, breath heating André's skin, lips brushing over André's. "When we finally get to where we're headed"—he glanced back at the bed before returning his smoldering gaze to André's—"it will be everything."

André couldn't breathe, but he forced out a snort. "Full of yourself, aren't you?"

A knock came on the door just as Gideon winked. "Yep, and I know you want the same…to be full of me."