“He’s not really a loner.” I felt compelled to come to his defense, even though I sensed that Morgan didn’t mean it derogatorily. “Gideon’s just private. And aren’t we all entitled to choose how much of ourselves we want to reveal to the world?”
“Sure, we are.” Morgan nodded. “But you of all people know that it’s not always that cut and dried. It’s not that simple all of the time. Working in public relations, the hardest aspect of our job sometimes is translating a personality to the rest of the world. It’s easier with some people with others.”
“I guess that’s true.” I took a sip of the wine I’d been carrying around with me for the past thirty minutes.
“Look at Leo Taylor,” Morgan went on. “He’s got natural charisma. He’s friendly. He’s passionate about what he does. He’s been a dream to work with since he joined the Rebels. And when he married Quinn, his childhood sweetheart? Best PR ever.”
I laughed. “Nice of them to provide you with a picture-perfect story, huh?”
Morgan chuckled, too. “Well, I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. But Gideon . . . now, he’s been a tougher character to showcase. It would be simple to just talk about his family’s connection with the game, but that doesn’t work forever. People want to feel like they know the quarterback. There’s a certain level of entitlement among fans when it comes to high-profile players.”
“And yet, don’t the players also deserve their privacy?” I countered. “I get that the guys who are out there all the time, going to parties and signing big sponsorship deals have opted to open themselves up to more scrutiny. But what about those who just want to play the game and still have a life of their own?”
“You’re not wrong. And I’ve done my best to keep all of that in balance.” She studied me, and I wasn’t sure I liked the speculative expression in her eyes. “Still, if the Rebels’ quarterback and team captain happened to be dating a beautiful woman from California, it’s something the team publicist would prefer to know ahead of time. We don’t like to be surprised.”
My temper began to simmer. “And I’m sure if that happened, Gideon would let you know what was necessary.” I took one step backward. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to refresh my wine. Have a good time.”
I navigated around a couple of different groups of people, flashing a smile but not engaging. I was beginning to understand Gideon’s preference for solitude and quiet. There were a lot of people in this house, and it felt as though all of them were wondering who I was and why I was here. I’d always considered myself an extrovert, a party girl, but I was discovering tonight that the sense of having all eyes on me wasn’t something I enjoyed.
Still, I had to admit, the party was a roaring success. The food was perfect and plentiful, and although the bar was open and busy, no one seemed to be abusing that privilege. The karaoke dude had a nice line of people willing to sing, and so far, all of the performances had been PG and unremarkable.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Gideon look quite so happy.” Ellie Iverson came up next to me, slipping her arm through mine. “This has been good for him.” She paused. “You are good for him.”
My face heated. “I don’t know about that. I hope I’m a good friend to him. But this party was completely his idea.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of that.” Ellie giggled. “I have all the text messages and voice mails to prove it. He wanted today to be perfect . . .but if you think you’re not part of that, you’re kidding yourself.”
I swallowed. “Not sure what you mean.”
Ellie was silent for a few moments. When she spoke again, her voice was thoughtful. “I knew Lilly. Corey and I had been here in Richmond for about a year when Gideon was drafted. I helped them get settled in this area, as much as I could . . . it wasn’t like they didn’t have a built-in support system in Gideon’s family, but still. I like to be helpful.”
I knew from Quinn’s stories that Ellie was being modest. The Taylors had more than once referred to Corey and Ellie as the heart of the Rebels.
“Gideon liked his privacy even in those days, and Lilly wasn’t interested in being part of his official image, so not everyone even knew he had a girlfriend. But I met her several times; she and Gideon came over for a dinner once. And I can tell you that I never saw Gideon look as settled and peaceful as he does now. I’ve caught him staring at you tonight, and I think you should know that he never looked at Lilly in that same way.”
The panic that had begun to rear its head earlier in the week spiraled into full-fledged terror. It seemed that everyone at this party was ready and willing to slide me into the role of Gideon Maynard’s girl, and apparently, they were also eager to attribute the change in his attitude to me, too. I could have been flattered. I could have basked in the glow, especially given the fact that Gideon himself had been given me every indication this week that he wanted more than friendship. He might not have said the words, but the way he touched me, kissed me, held me . . . I felt the coming change in every loaded glance and every casual gesture.
But despite the fact that I was well aware of my own growing feelings for him, the need to escape was beginning to overwhelm me. Claustrophobia clawed at me, and as my chest tightened, I began to make my way toward the kitchen, where I knew I could slip out the back door just to get some air.
Before I could get there, though, I heard a ruckus in the corner where the karaoke machine was set up. A few of the guys I hadn’t met yet were over there, one of them lifting the wireless mic high above as his head, as they all chanted one word.
“Maynard! Maynard! Maynard!”
Laughter of disbelief rose unbidden in my chest. These men might be Gideon’s teammates, but the fact that they thought they could convince him to sing in front of a crowd through peer pressure was ridiculous. Gideon wasn’t that type of person. There was no way in hell he’d sing karaoke, and the way they were going about pushing him was more likely to inspire our host to kick them all out.
Across the room, Quinn was staring at me, her eyes round. Leo had one arm slung around his wife, shaking his head. He knew as well as I did that Gideon would be more likely to play next season’s opening game naked than he would be to sing here.
The crowd’s attention was now entirely focused on the karaoke corner, laughing at the agitators. And then incredibly, the guests next to me stepped aside, as Gideon made his way toward his teammates.
My heart stopped when he reached up to swipe the microphone. Holy God, was he really going to do this?
“If you clowns put this much energy into holding the line this year, we might have a shot at the post-season.”
The room erupted in appreciative laughter.
“So what are you yelling about? Don’t you have enough food? Did the bar run out of beer?” Gideon pretended to crane his neck to check it out.
“No!” The biggest guy tried to grab at Gideon, to put him into a headlock, but the QB was used to evaded defenders. “We want you to sing.”
Gideon rolled his eyes. “I don’t sing in public, dude. Trust me, it wouldn’t be pretty.”
“Hey, you’re the quarterback. The captain. Our fearless leader!” One of the other men lifted a fist into the air. “If you’ve got the balls to face New York, you can manage one song.”
Gideon shook his head, but now the entire party had taken up the cause and the chant. After a few seconds of that, he dropped his head backward in defeat before sighing. And then he did what I’d never suspected he would. He leaned toward the man running the karaoke machine, murmuring something in his ear. The guy’s face lit up, and he nodded.
“All right, all right.” Gideon lifted a hand for silence and spoke into the mic. “If y’all are going to make such a fuss, I’ll do this . . .”
I sucked in a shocked breath. What the actual fuck?
“ . . . but I want every one of you to remember this, so come August, when we’re playing and you’re tempted to phone it in, you’re feeling like you coul
d give up, you just think of me up here making an ass out of myself, and remember that if I can do this, we can win. Every. Fucking. Game.” He gave the DJ a nod. “Also, like everything else, I’m going to do this my way.”
Familiar music poured out of the huge speakers. Recognizing what he was going to sing, I grinned and began to push my way to the front of the throng.
Gideon spotted me. One of his eyebrows quirked up in a message I read clearly as can you fucking believe this? He pointed to me with the mic, and then he brought it back to his lips.
“This one’s for you, princess.”
I threw back my head and laughed. Gideon’s eyes gleamed at me, and he began to sing.
“Louie, Louie . . .”
The entire room screamed in delight, joining along in the chorus, but for me, none of them existed. For me, there was only Gideon, holding the microphone with casual confidence, those gorgeous, sensual lips moving around the words, his hips swaying in time with the beat. I gyrated along with him, putting my all into the roll of my shoulders, the slide of my feet.
And I never once dropped my eye-lock with the guy in front of me, pouring his heart into this old song.
He was so damn sexy, mostly because what he was doing was so out of character, so unrehearsed and organic. And even though I knew he’d been at least partially coerced by his teammates into singing, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in my mind that this was entirely for my own benefit.
This was foreplay, pure and simple, and I knew that no matter what else might happen, tonight, I was going to be in Gideon Maynard’s bed.
16
Gideon
It felt like it took my guests a lifetime to leave my house that night.
In reality, the party started to break up not long after I’d taken a bow following my karaoke debut. Apparently, everyone realized that we’d hit the pinnacle of the party; it just wasn’t going to get any better than that.
I myself wasn’t quite sure what had happened. All I knew was that the evening had been going well. My guests seemed to be having a good time. I’d kept my eye on Sarah, and as far as I could tell, she was meeting people, chatting with a variety of different groups—my woman held her own in any crowd, so I wasn’t worried.
My woman. Just when that had happened—when I’d started thinking of Sarah as mine—I wasn’t really certain. Maybe it had been when I’d greeted her at the airport with a searing kiss. Or maybe when I’d made her cry out in pleasure up on the hill, during our picnic this week. Or maybe it had been the very first time I’d seen her at another party over a year ago.
The when didn’t matter. She was part of me now, and I didn’t want that to change. The how and the where were things we’d work out later. For the moment, I only wanted to bask in the utter perfection of being with her.
And then I’d heard my last name called out. Three of the dudes who were leaders on our defense had started a loud campaign to get me to sing karaoke. I’d had a feeling that they never expected me to play along—they’d been making a point, and that was that I was one of them. They felt comfortable giving me shit like they did the others, and even if I didn’t give in and sing, being a good sport was important.
Somewhere between the time I began to wade through the crowd toward the corner and the moment I’d taken the mic, an idea had taken root, and before I could think it through, I was telling the karaoke DJ to play Louie, Louie. I liked the song; it fell into my favorite time period of music, and it was one Gabby and I used to bellow at the top of our lungs when we were kids riding in the car, windows down and air rushing over our young bodies. It was familiar and fun.
Just before I’d opened my mouth to sing, Sarah was in front of me, her eyes glued to me, surprise and mirth all over her face. When she’d laughed, giving herself over to that total body joy that was so unique to her, I knew the truth, once and for all.
I was in love with Sarah Jenkins. I’d loved her for a long time . . . possibly since the first time she’d spoken to me. I didn’t want to live any more of my life without telling the world that we belonged to each other.
I rocked through the song, never looking away from her face, appreciating how she danced along. Each sway and writhe of her sweet body turned me on even more, until I realized I was trying to think of a way to get her upstairs even before our guests left.
Maybe we were exuding the pulsing need, because less than an hour later, I was saying good-bye to the last of the party-goers. The caterers were finishing up in the kitchen, and the DJ’s taillights were disappearing around the curve in my driveway.
Sarah stood next to me, her body leaning into mine. I bent my head to brush my lips over the top of her hair, thinking that this was what I’d been missing. Standing at the front door of our home, waving good-bye to our friends, knowing beyond doubt that tonight, we’d be alone together . . . this was perfection.
She sighed, and I rubbed her shoulder. “That’s the last of them. I’m going to make sure the caterers are good to go, and then I’ll lock up.” I ran my fingers over her back, curling them over the nape of her neck. “Why don’t you go on upstairs? I’ll be up in a little bit.”
Sarah smiled up into my eyes. “Okay. Sure you don’t need any help?”
“Nope.” I shook my head, and she slipped out from beneath my arm.
“Oh, and princess?” She paused at the foot of the staircase, turning to glance back at me. “Wait for me in my room tonight.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move. And then she nodded, her eyes speaking volumes as they held mine before she climbed the steps.
It took every bit of my self-control not to toss the caterers out then and there. Instead, though, I thanked them for their work, helped them closed up their cases and carry everything to the van parked in my backyard. I tipped each one of them generously and waved them off.
And then I checked to make sure everything was turned off—God knew I didn’t want any disturbances tonight, no smoke alarm sounding because someone had neglected to switch off a burner—locked all the doors and dimmed the lights to their night-time settings.
When I was sure everything was settled downstairs, I took the steps two at a time, unbelievably eager to get to my bedroom.
The sight that greeted me was worth the wait. Sarah, wearing a long white nightgown, stood with her back to me, her hands on the post of my bed, as she gazed out the window into the dark. A slight breeze ruffled her dark hair and made her shiver.
“Are you cold?” My voice was husky and soft. “We can close the windows.”
She turned, angling her neck and smiling at me. “No. The air feels good. It smells like new life and fresh earth and flowers. I love sleeping with that blowing over me.”
“But we might not sleep for a while.” I crossed the room, barely trusting my feet to carry me forward.
“I love not sleeping with the breeze blowing over me, too.” She laughed softly.
“You are . . .” My words failed me. Man had yet to come up with descriptors that could adequately capture the beauty in front of me. Sarah’s nightie wasn’t at all revealing; it didn’t cling to her alluring curves, and it wasn’t cut low enough for me to steal a glimpse of her breasts. But it might have been the sexiest lingerie I’d ever seen. The soft material draped over her, setting off her hair as it fell down her shoulders.
“You’re exquisite beyond my ability to say it,” I said finally. “You’re like a dream standing alive in front of me.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t have anything, ah . . . more risqué.” She waved one hand. “You know. More lace and Lycra. But I don’t like sleeping in that kind of thing.”
“This is perfect.” I slipped one finger under the neckline, running it over her warm skin. “Don’t apologize for it. You could wear burlap and make it sexy, princess.” I leaned to murmur in her ear. “But I’m pretty sure you look best in nothing at all.”
She flushed, the pink pretty across her cheekbones. “I’d have to say the same about you.” With
fingers that shook just the tiniest bit, she began unfastening the buttons of my shirt. “I love how you looked tonight. I thought more than once that you were sex on two legs. But now I’d like to see these perfect clothes in a pile, right here on the floor.”
I stood still and allowed her to finish unbuttoning me, spreading the shirt wide as her palms pressed my chest, skimming down my abs before she attacked the top of my jeans. Covering her hands with mine, I took over, undoing my fly and easing down both my pants and boxers. Her swift intake of breath as her eyes surveyed me was gratifying, to say the least.
“I thought my imagination had, uh, enhanced your attributes.” She gave a short huff of laughter. “But I was wrong. Jesus, Gideon, you’re magnificent.”
It was the sort of compliment every man longed to hear, and I was no different. But I wanted to be magnificent for her. I wanted to be enough, to be more, so that I could satisfy every need she’d ever have.
Her hand wrapped around my length, stroking me. But when she began to kneel, I resisted, holding her hands in mine.
“Not now.” I brushed her hair back over her shoulders. “Right now, I want to kiss you.”
Sarah raised her lips to me, and I accepted the invitation, my lips possessing hers with a building intensity. She made a small sound deep in her throat as her arms lifted to encircle my neck.
When her mouth opened under mine, she thrust her tongue forward, aggressive and seeking. But I slowed us, using my tongue to wander and explore, to tease and entice, kissing her so thoroughly that within minutes, she was weak in my arms.
With special care, I lowered Sarah onto the bed before I lay next to her. One of my hands skimmed down her body over the cloth of her nightgown, appreciating her softness and curves even before I could see them.
Sway (Keeping Score Book 6) Page 28