Sway (Keeping Score Book 6)

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Gideon . . .” She lifted liquid eyes to me. “What are you doing?”

  I fastened my lips at the side of her neck and began my journey lower, taking my time to explore every dip, every tantalizing nook of her sweet body.

  “I’m loving you, Sarah.” I paused for a second, just long enough to look up at her. “Can’t you tell?”

  Her fingers knotted in my short hair. “Gideon . . .” Something in her voice sounded like fear. There was a hint of trepidation in her tone.

  “Let me love you, princess,” I whispered. “For right now . . . let me show you.”

  After a moment, her hands relaxed, and her chest rose and fell in a sigh. I sensed her surrender, and for the briefest second, I hesitated. I didn’t want to force her into anything. That wasn’t my intention. But breaking down her barriers to accept what I was trying to give her—that might take a little bit of convincing. Fortunately, I was up for the job.

  Her nightgown had a long row of small buttons down the front, and when I’d tackled them, I was able to ease aside the material to reveal her perfect breasts. Holding the weight of one in my palm, I kissed all around the turgid peak of her nipple, avoiding the part that I could tell she most wanted me to take. Her breath was coming in short pants, and with her hands, she tried to steer me closer to the rosy tip.

  “Sarah.” My voice was muffled, since my mouth was busy raining small passionate kisses on the slope of her breast. “Relax. Just enjoy. I promise, I’ll make you feel good. Trust me. Okay?”

  She nodded, her eyes closed, and her teeth sank into her lower lip. I resumed my ministrations, letting my warm breath blow over her sensitive nipple, smiling a little as her body wriggled as though it couldn’t bear to remain still. Finally, I gave in, taking the bud wholly into my mouth and sucking softly.

  Sarah cried out, bowing her back to give me more. I laved the nipple, licking and kissing but never biting. At the same time, I cupped her other breast with my free hand, rubbing that tip with my palm, building the sensation.

  “Gideon.” I watched her throat work as she swallowed. “God, I need you. Please . . .”

  “I know, Sarah. It’s okay. I got you.” Reaching for the hem of her nightgown, I tugged it up, pausing to allow her to lift her hips and free the material caught there. When I had it rolled to her chest, she raised her arms, and carefully, I removed it, tossing the froth of white cotton onto the floor.

  Now she was naked, spread out before me like the most delectable banquet I’d ever seen. Her slim thighs parted restlessly, as though to show me the way.

  “There is nothing about you, not one part of you, that I don’t love, Sarah.” I pressed a kiss to her belly, just above her navel. “There’s not one inch of you that doesn’t make me crazy to have you.”

  She hummed a little, her hands wandering over my shoulders and down my back, coming to rest on my ass. I closed my eyes, breathing deep. My cock pulsed and throbbed, wanting to be buried in her soft heat, but I focused on holding off, just a little longer.

  When I slipped my fingers between her legs, though, and felt the slippery wetness there, the evidence of how ready Sarah was for me, it was my undoing. I rolled over to hold myself above her body, spreading legs to give me better access to her core. I was so intent that I very nearly forgot to reach for the condom in my bedside drawer.

  “Gideon.” Sarah stayed my hand with hers. “You don’t have to—I mean, I’m on birth control. Really effective birth control, and I haven’t been with anyone since you. I’m clean—if you wanted to, you know . . . not worry about that.”

  I couldn’t speak for several beats. “I’ve never had sex without a condom before,” I confessed.

  Her eyes were steady on me. “Neither have I.”

  I smiled, dipping my head to feather a kiss over her lips. “Then this is one first we’ll share.”

  Sitting up to kneel between her legs, I took my cock in one hand and rubbed the head over her slick center. Sarah moaned, her fingers reaching blindly for me. I twitched, determined to hold back and yet desperate to be inside her. In the end, it was the latter that won out. Lining myself up to her entrance, I slowly slid within her.

  Sarah arched, her hands digging into the muscles of my ass. My heart was pounding a cadence, begging me to take and to thrust, but I wanted this to last. I needed to feel this connection, to know that it was real and strong and forever.

  “Gideon. God, you feel so good.” She rocked beneath me. “Take me hard. Fuck me, Gideon.”

  I lay over her, bracing my weight on two hands and angling my head to seal my lips on hers. “No,” I murmured against her mouth. “Not hard. Not fast. And definitely not fucking.”

  Her eyes flew open, alarm and fear clouding the passion.

  “Not fucking, princess. Never fucking. With us, it’s loving. And tonight, I want you to feel that truth in every part of your body, inside and out.” I withdrew slightly before sliding deep again, the drag of my cock against her tight channels just about killing me. “I want you to feel it in your soul. I want my love burned into you so you can’t forget it or deny it.”

  Sarah whimpered, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of her desperate need or because of what I’d said. Still, I forced myself to move slowly, to work in and out of her, reaching a deeper spot each time. Holding back was killing me, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could manage it. But I needed her to know. No matter what came next, Sarah would never be able to doubt how I felt about her.

  Even as I steeled myself to a building, languorous rhythm, her breath hitched, and she called out my name. This time, it wasn’t begging or demanding; it was completion and answering and unmitigated pleasure.

  “Gideon!”

  Sarah’s arms slid up my body to encircle my neck, bringing my lips back to hers. She kissed me with such abandon as her body tightened around my cock, squeezing me in the throes of her climax.

  And I couldn’t wait anymore. With a long, tortured groan, I gave in, plunging deep and hard, spilling my essence and energy within the woman I loved.

  Beneath me, Sarah sobbed, tears running down her face. My heart still racing, I fumbled to wipe her cheeks dry, to kiss away the wetness and offer her comfort.

  “Gideon.” She breathed out my name, found my lips and kissed me, her hands gentle as they stroked my hair. “Oh, Gideon. God.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and rolled us to our sides, just before sleep overcame me.

  I wasn’t sure what woke me that next morning. It might have been the sunshine pouring in, or possibly the much-chiller breeze gusting through the open windows. Or maybe it was the sound of a soft curse.

  Opening my eyes, I tried to make sense of what I saw. The spot next to me, where Sarah had slept in my arms, was empty. Instead of greeting me with a smile and a promise of a little morning lovin’, she was standing next to my bed, fully dressed, rubbing the side of her head.

  “What’s wrong?” I squinted in the bright light. “Sarah, what are you doing?”

  But the minute her eyes met mine, I knew that answer.

  “Sorry,” she apologized, her voice tight. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, but I came in to get my—” She lifted her hand which held the wrinkled white material of her nightgown. “Well, this, and I bumped my head on the side of the bed. Sorry.”

  “Why are you dressed?” I pushed to sit up. “Where are you going?”

  She blew out a long breath. “I’m catching a flight back to San Francisco today.”

  “But—” I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Why? You’re not supposed to fly back until tomorrow. And I hoped maybe . . .” I stopped talking, hesitating, and then went for it. “I was hoping I could talk you into staying a little longer.”

  “What’s the point, though?” She balled up the nightgown and crossed her arms. I recognized the stance; it was defensive, her default position.

  “I thought maybe the point was you and me.” I swung my legs out of bed. Since clearly a round of nookie t
o start the day was out of the question, I figured I might as well put on some pants to have this conversation. “The point is that I’m in love with you, Sarah. And I hoped we could talk about that.”

  “In love with me.” She closed her eyes, bowing her head. “You can’t be, Gideon. You said—you told me that would never happen. Remember? We both said it wouldn’t. That was the deal.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t do love. I’m not made that way.”

  “Bullshit.” I spoke swiftly. “You can lie to me, Sarah—hell, you can lie to yourself, but we both know that I’m not in this alone. You’re not running away because you don’t feel anything. You’re running because you’re in love with me, too.”

  Her eyes flew open, flashing fire. “You don’t know that.”

  “Oh, don’t I?” I countered, stalking over to her. “Tell me, princess. Did you feel it last night, in every touch, in every kiss—in every word I spoke?”

  She turned her head, refusing to look at me.

  “And if you’re not in love with me, tell me this. Why did you cry, after? Why were you sobbing in my arms?”

  “Maybe because I know that it doesn’t matter!” Finally, she was letting go, shouting at me. “Love—that’s all very pretty and sweet, but it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t guarantee a happy ending. It only means hurt. Don’t fall in love with me, Gideon. I’m not capable of making it work. I’m a bad bet.”

  “Too late.” I grasped her shoulders, forcing her to meet my eyes. “I already told you, Sarah, I love you. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I’m not planning on stopping.”

  “You can’t be in love with someone who will only fuck it up.” She sounded so defeated, so final. “Trust me on this, Gideon. I’ve seen what happens. You don’t want to end up like my mother, holding onto a promise that never meant shit to the guy who made it. You don’t want to cling to a love that the other person isn’t capable of returning.”

  “You are not your father.” I gave her a little shake. “And we are not your parents. They’re two people who made the wrong decisions, but think of all the others we know who are making it work. Think of Leo and Quinn. Corey and Ellie. Think of my parents. For God’s sake, think of my grandparents, married and in love for sixty years. That’s our possibility, Sarah. That’s our future. You can’t let one screwed-up example rob us of what we have.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t do it. I can’t believe in it.”

  With a growl of frustration, I slid my fingers into her hair and crushed my mouth to hers, desperate to show her in any way I could how wrong she was. For a moment, she didn’t respond, and then she kissed me back, as hope renewed within me.

  But it didn’t last.

  “No.” Sarah pulled away. “I have to go now, Gideon. I can’t stay here and let you talk me into something that we’ll both regret.” She took a long breath. “I called Quinn and asked her to get me. She’s dropping me at the airport.”

  “Sarah—”

  “No, Gideon.” This time, the anger was gone, and in its place was a scarier, more final hopelessness. “We need to take this time. I need space. I’m going back to San Francisco . . . because if I don’t go now, I might let you talk me into staying forever.”

  “I’m okay with that.” I reached for her again, but she eluded me.

  “The hell of this is . . .” She began to speak, and then a sob choked her, cutting off her words. “The hell of it is that you’re right. I’m in love with you. And if you don’t think that walking away from you is the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done—” Her shoulders shook. “I love you too much to stay. I love you too much to destroy your life.”

  I heard the sound of car tires over gravel, and we both looked toward the window. Quinn’s small silver sedan slowed to a halt in front of my porch.

  “Sarah, please.” I’d never begged anyone for anything ever before, but if I thought it would make her stay, I’d go down on my knees. “Don’t go.”

  She shook her head again, wiping furiously at her face. “Good-bye, Gideon. Please be happy. Please don’t give up.”

  Turning, she fled my room. I heard her footsteps on the stairs and then the front door opened and closed. Moments later, I watched as Quinn’s car disappeared down my driveway, taking with it my heart and my future.

  Too late, I came back to life, racing down the stairs and outside, yelling her name at the top of my lungs in the vain hope that she might hear me and somehow change her mind.

  But the only answer was the echo of my forlorn voice in the wind.

  17

  Sarah

  “Hey, Sarah.” Bryn, the administrative assistant who worked with all of us in the PR department, stuck her head into my office. “Kara asked if you could please run down to see her.”

  I frowned. “Did she say what she needed?” I pointed to the computer. “I’m kind of knee-deep in these press releases for the spring fundraisers.”

  Bryn shook her head. “No, just that it was kind of important, and she’d like you to come down sooner rather than later.”

  Sighing, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll just save this and go on down.”

  My fingers were clumsy as I tapped on the keys to close out my work. Call it pessimism or a sense of impending doom, but it would be about par for the course that something would be going wrong with work just now. I couldn’t imagine that Kara and Allan would fire me summarily, without any warning, but still . . . nothing was going right at the moment. Losing my job would be the icing on the cake.

  It had been a month since I’d returned from Virginia. I’d spent those weeks burying myself in work as much as I could, trying to forget everything that had happened between Gideon and me. Trying to forget Gideon, if the truth was told . . . but that had turned out to be an impossible task. He never left me. He haunted me at night in my dreams and during the day in every other thought.

  And that, of course, was part of the reason I was so tense about my job. I’d made some stupid mistakes, mostly because I’d been preoccupied with my personal life. Kara had been kind about those errors, but I hated that I was letting my focus suffer.

  Those first few days back had been a nightmare. I’d sobbed all the way from Peaceful Meadows to the airport, my misery only compounded by Quinn’s repeated questions. She’d been so sure that I was making a mistake. She’d begged me to reconsider, to at least come stay with Leo and her until I could be certain that I really wanted to do this.

  And when I’d insisted that she take me to the airport as planned, she’d shaken her head. “I did this once, too, you know,” she reminded me. “I fled to San Francisco to get away from a broken heart.”

  “And you told me that it was the best thing you ever did,” I countered between sniffles. “You said it was the saving of you and Leo.”

  “Well, my situation was a little different,” Quinn conceded. “Leo and I needed that time apart. I needed to heal, and I needed to grow up and learn some things about myself.”

  I nodded. “This is different. This is . . .” A new flood of tears began to seep from my eyes. “This is for Gideon’s benefit. He’ll be better off without me.”

  Quinn rolled her eyes. “We both know that’s ridiculous. I don’t understand what happened. Did you two have an argument?”

  “No. He told me he’s in love with me.” I stared down at my hands. “And I know I’m in love with him. But I can’t stay, Quinn. I’m not made for the long term.”

  In the end, Quinn hadn’t been able to dissuade me from getting on the plane. I’d slept the sleep of the emotionally overwrought all the way across the country, and then, once back in my apartment, I’d spent a night and a day in utter, sob-wracked misery before I went back to the emptiness of my real life.

  Gideon hadn’t called. He hadn’t tried to text me. During that first week, I’d half expected him to show up one day, begging me to come back. And if he had, I might have given in—that was how complete my misery was.

  But he didn’t. Aft
er the first week, I realized that he must have taken me at my word and decided that I wasn’t worth the bother. Probably, I figured, he’d had some time to think about my family, my history, and realized that I’d been right. He’d recognized that I’d done the kindest thing ever in ending us before we could really begin.

  For him, life could go on. He could find someone better and start anew. He’d made changes, he’d gotten over Lilly, and now he’d gotten loose of me. There was nothing but open roads, sunshine and rainbows in his future. Gideon Maynard would rise to be the best quarterback in the league, and when I saw him play, I’d smile and think that once upon a time, I’d loved that man.

  My forecast was considerably less certain. As much as I loved working for Kara and Allan, as much as I’d enjoyed living in San Francisco for a year, I wasn’t certain that this was where I wanted to stay forever. I still hadn’t made friends in the Bay Area, and more often than not, I was lonely.

  Now that Gideon wasn’t in my life, texting me daily, the reality of that loneliness was even starker. It felt as though everyone on the planet had someone—everyone except me, that was.

  I didn’t want to go back to DC, and I was sure as hell not moving to New Jersey, but maybe there was somewhere else. Maybe I should look for something overseas, where I’d have an ocean between the temptation of Gideon Maynard and me.

  I was beginning to suspect that I took after my father in this respect: I was restless, and staying in one place, at one job, bored me. But at least I wasn’t going to ruin other lives as I searched for the holy grail of a perfect situation. That was my one comfort.

  With a sigh, I stood up from my desk and headed for the steps that led down to Kara’s floor, trepidation slowing my steps. In my head, I rehearsed a speech of apology, a plea for another chance . . . or possibly, at least, a letter of recommendation for another job.

  Kara’s door was ajar, and I knocked softly, hoping that maybe she’d forgotten that she’d sent for me and had left for the day. But that hope was dashed when she called out for me to come in.