This morning, instead of waking up to an erection pressing against my ass, the other side of the bed was empty. Frowning, I rolled up. The bedroom door was shut, and it was after nine. He’d let me sleep in?
I got out of bed, cleaned up, brushed my teeth, and found a pair of fluffy emerald-green leggings to wear with a thick, gold knit sweater that covered my ass. Though I was less concerned about covering my butt when Gideon seemed to like having it in his face.
Tingles spread through my body like they usually didwhen my mind wandered to sex with Gideon. I ignored them and pulled my hair into a loose bun on top of my head.
I found my husband at the kitchen table in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, looking like he could command a boardroom from the weight rack at the gym. The candy from last night had been cleaned up. All the types Chance hadn’t liked were in the Halloween bowl by the door. I’d been able to hand several pieces out before I’d shut off the porch light to end trick-or-treating, but I had half a bowl left.
Gideon was staring at the computer screen and he’d moved the chair next to him out. Sprinkles was sprawled on that chair like she’d graciously given up the fight to sit on his lap.
“Morning,” I said. I hovered a few feet away. I didn’t want him to think I was snooping on what he was working on, but also because we didn’t do kisses good morning. We fucked. I curled into him before we went to sleep, but he didn’t press kisses into my hair. He didn’t hug me just because. If we touched, it was foreplay.
For the last week, I hadn’t questioned it. I enjoyed the hell out of the orgasms I was getting and seeing Gideon was a giant bonus. But... the intimacy was lacking, and really, there was no reason for it to be present. Didn’t mean I didn’t wish for it, but perhaps having another small line drawn was a good, constant reminder of what our arrangement was—convenient.
“Morning.” He glanced over. His gaze raked down my body, leaving a trail of smoldering arousal, then went back to the screen.
“Did you eat yet?”
“No. I’m not hungry.”
“I shouldn’t be hungry. I think I ate half the candy aisle before bed.” I tried to keep it light, but a part of me was feeling a little dismissed.
His brow remained furrowed as he stared at his screen. He had to be catching up on work. He never mentioned friends. Even with Taya, he’d mentioned a casual, very occasional connection that sounded more functional than emotional. He was alone, but for a little while, he had me. I didn’t like seeing him disturbed and locking it away.
I folded my arms, hugging myself. The urge to cross to him and nuzzle his hair was strong. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but do you think you should?” I crept a step closer. “Something from last night is bothering you. Was it Tate? Something he said?”
I hadn’t needed to eavesdrop to know Gideon and Tate had gone a round about the sale, but they’d acted like they’d come to a temporary truce. Gideon had sat next to me as I’d laughed with the kids and helped count and sort their haul for the night.
He tapped out of the screen on his computer and reclined in his seat. “Everything Tate said, yes, but that’s nothing new.”
His gaze shifted to beyond me. I looked over my shoulder. The kitchen sink.
I tried to picture what he was seeing. The dirty glasses from last night hadn’t been put in the dishwasher because the washer needed emptying first. By the time my family had left, it’d been late, and not only by the kids’ standards. When faced with going to bed with Gideon and his talented tongue or doing dishes, there would always be one clear winner.
He didn’t speak. His phone buzzed and he frowned at the screen. Then he put the phone facedown on the table. He stayed quiet a few more moments.
Okay then.
I went for the fridge. He wasn’t going to talk, and it was none of my business.
“I want to show you something,” he said. “Let me get dressed.”
“I haven’t eaten yet. Can I pack something to take with us? Or are we going somewhere with food there already?”
“No food.” He closed his laptop, gave Sprinkles a little scratch, and rose. “Pack whatever you’d like.” He brushed past me on his way to the bedroom, leaving a cold draft behind him.
The cat got attention, but I didn’t.
I shouldn’t take it personally, something was clearly bothering him, but the lingering hurt wouldn’t listen. I busied myself with breakfast and made a couple of quick peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I had them packed into little baggies by the time he reappeared in the kitchen, dressed in the country-boy style that went straight to my libido. He even had a ball cap tucked on his head.
When his gaze landed on the peanut butter and jelly still sitting out, he blanched. “I hope you didn’t make one for me.”
I held up a sandwich bag. The one I’d made for him.
“I can’t stand PB and J.”
“Oh.” Crestfallen, I dropped the baggie onto the table. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Shit. It’s not a big deal.”
