Page 23 of Nothing to Fear

The first time she’d pretended she was like the other girls at a frat party, Michael Dutton had noticed her. He’d lured her into a bedroom. She’d managed to get him off her, but he’d left bruises. The kind of bruises people saw on her body. The kind she carried deep inside years later.

She told her father everything over Christmas break. He thought it best if she transferred to Georgetown and lived at home. The suggestion had been a great relief.

Willow opened her eyes. The breeze brushed her skin, and she imagined it was Gideon touching her, making sensation flare. The kiss replayed on a loop, as it had the better part of the night. His hands spanning her hips, pressing her against the wall with his heavy, delicious weight. His mouth hot and sure on hers, the intimate tangle of their tongues…obscene and addictive and nothing eel-like about it. She’d remember it until the day she died.

But she’d done or said something wrong, missed some rule, a behavioral cue. If she fixed the problem, maybe he’d want to see her room again. Better yet, he might show her his place.

She fiddled with her fingers, longing to know what had thrown things off.

Gideon pulled up, and her heart fluttered. She stood, grabbing the chicken salad packed in her insulated bag and the Tupperware container of scones she’d baked earlier. Stomach tightening, she opened the door and hoisted herself into the Jeep, determined to get answers.

“Good morning.” Gideon extended a hand.

She put her palm on his, letting him help her inside. “Thank you. I appreciate the ride.” She shut the door, and he pulled off.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

After he’d stirred so many different sensations in her, she hadn’t fallen asleep until two in the morning. Her eyes opened at four before her alarm went off, body vibrating with anticipation. She’d made her dad a huge breakfast, baked scones for Gideon, and waited.

“Two and a half hours.” Smiling, she wondered if she should ease into the discussion. Her sisters hated when she blurted stuff out, but she didn’t know how to talk around things.

“Coffee?” He handed her a paper cup with a plastic lid. “Splash of cream, two sugars.”

Taken aback, she accepted the cup. “How do you know how I take my coffee?”

“I paid attention during our ops whenever you made a cup in the conference room.”

Warm flutters stroked her insides, like she’d swallowed a swarm of sun-soaked butterflies. “Gideon, I enjoyed the way you touched me in my room yesterday.”

His head snapped forward, his body stiffening ramrod straight.

“I’m sorry if I said or did something wrong,” she said.

His face was a blank slate as he sipped his coffee.

“I’d like to be friends.” She put her hand on his thigh, and his muscles tensed. “I want to have sex with you.”

Gideon choked, spewing coffee on the steering wheel as the car swerved. He went to set his cup in the beverage holder without looking and fumbled. Hot liquid splashed on the console.

“Shit.” The car swerved again.

She reeled her hand away from his thigh and back into her lap.

“It’s not a good idea for us to be friends. I crossed the line yesterday. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Why? I enjoyed it. I thought you did too.” There was no mistaking he’d been aroused.

“It’s not you, Willow. It’s me. I’m not the right type of guy for you.”

A weight settled in her chest along with the true meaning of his words. She wasn’t the right type of girl for him. He could have anyone. A gorgeous woman with beauty queen potential who’d mastered the sexual techniques those magazines outlined.

Willow was simple, nothing fancy, nothing stunning. She struggled through briefings, with her stomach twisting into knots. What would she be like on a date?

Gideon probably socialized a lot. He was always at Rocky’s bar with the rest of Black Ops and wouldn’t want an awkward misfit hiding in the corner, or worse, embarrassing him. He wouldn’t waste his time on her, but why had he initiated anything in the first place?

A dull ache swelled inside. Misinterpreting things said, misreading cues, led her to make mistakes that ballooned into shame. This was the type of humiliation she was desperate to avoid.

Safer and easier to keep to herself.