Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
A week passed before they could go pick things out in person. First, Rafe had kept their schedules packed, and then Ryder had refused to do any shopping for his place until Gideon had all of his boxes emptied and items put in their proper places.
That part he wasn’t complaining about. It meant Ryder was in his place a lot after work. They talked—which was mostly Gideon rambling while Ryder grunted occasionally—as Gideon unpacked boxes. Ryder was happy to put things up in high places and hang pictures on the walls.
The moment Gideon had the last thing put away, they snuggled together on the couch with Gideon’s laptop as they ordered some random household items: bookshelves, a TV, and a few other basics that Ryder was sorely missing. The furniture, sheets, blankets, and towels all needed to be picked in person. Each item had to be checked for softness and fluffiness. It was the one thing Ryder was adamant about.
Sadly, he had no opinion about color or style. He’d only ask, “Do you like it?” or “Do you think it would match?”
Gideon was developing an eye twitch.
By the fourth store of the night, Gideon learned that as long as Ryder liked the feel, it was up to Gideon to decide on the actual appearance.
“I’m sorry this has been such a hassle for you,” Ryder murmured, breaking the silence of the truck as they idled at a red light.
“What? No!” Gideon argued, but the rest of his words got stuck in his throat with a single skeptical look from Ryder. Gideon grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t say hassle. I guess I expected you to have more of an opinion on things.”
“Sorry.”
Gideon shifted toward Ryder and petted his right arm through his leather jacket. “No, don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Some people aren’t into this kind of thing. It’s no big deal. I’m just worried about your place being too heavily influenced by me and not having enough of your own personal taste.”
“I like your taste.”
Heat instantly suffused Gideon’s cheeks and he might have briefly choked on a breath while mentally repeating that Ryder did not mean that the way it sounded.
Shit! What were they talking about? His brain had completely stopped working. Now it was full of visions of Ryder’s mouth moving over every inch of his naked body. His tongue lapping at him as though he were a fucking piece of candy.
And now he was getting hard.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This was a disaster. He needed to think of non-sexy things. Nothing related to Ryder and what seemed to be an incredibly kissable mouth.
Gideon was wracking his brain when Ryder turned a corner and Gideon suddenly shouted, “There!” He’d never been so grateful for a thrift store in all his long life.
“Got it,” Ryder grunted and hit his turn signal.
They’d gotten all the main shopping done, and Gideon had talked Ryder into visiting one of his favorite thrift stores. Ethan had shown it to him months ago, and they both liked to hit it for weird treasures and unique finds. He wasn’t searching for anything in particular. This was a chance to find something interesting for his place, and maybe even something for Ryder.
Ryder carefully navigated the slushy road and pulled into an open spot that wasn’t close to any other cars. As Gideon unbuckled his seat belt, Ryder leaned forward and glared at the parking lot.
“Wait for me to come to your side.”
Gideon was about to ask him what was wrong, but Ryder was already climbing out of the truck and walking around the vehicle like a man on a mission. Nothing was getting in his way. Gideon released his seat belt and tugged on his bright-yellow knit hat.
After Ryder pulled open his door, he reached in and scooped up Gideon in his arms as easily as if he were picking up a kitten. A tiny “Eep!” escaped Gideon, and he immediately wrapped his arms behind Ryder’s neck to steady himself.
“What are you doing?” Gideon demanded.
“Door,” Ryder answered.
Gideon took a breath to ask what the hell he was talking about when he realized Ryder’s arms were full. He needed Gideon to close the truck door. Duh. Stretching out one arm, Gideon pushed the door closed and returned it to Ryder’s shoulder.
“The parking lot is full of deep puddles and dirty, slushy snow. I don’t want your shoes to get dirty,” Ryder replied as he started forward through the parking lot, Gideon in his arms, as if it were the most natural thing in the entire world.
Gideon might have glanced at the rainbow galoshes on his feet. The very shoes he put on to trek through dirty slush and puddles. Who was he to argue if it got him service like this?
As they reached the sidewalk, Ryder stood holding him, the glow from the lights of the store gilding all the vampire’s harsh features and making his gray eyes seem even paler. Gideon cupped one of Ryder’s cheeks, his thumb caressing his high cheekbone.