Page 86 of Nothing to Fear

Valid point. He hadn’t noticed. “You’re not used to drinking. I don’t want you to get sick.” And I’m sorry for being a dipshit control freak.

Another thing to add to the list of what she didn’t deserve.

“Dance with me.” Sighing, she slid her hand along his forearm. “You’ve barely looked at me all night.” Something about the way the words rolled from her sweet tongue and the longing in her eyes had his insides softening. “Please. A few minutes.”

He snatched his arm from her grasp, tearing his gaze away before he succumbed. If she ever figured out the power she held over him, he would be fucked. “I. Don’t. Dance.”

He didn’t dance, ever, and even if he did, dancing meant distraction.

Scooting her chair back in a screech, she was on her feet before he blinked. She strode near the doors leading to the patio—in the middle of the restaurant—and started dancing.

Fuck. All eyes zeroed in on her, destroying the low profile he’d painstakingly created, setting his teeth on edge. The one good thing was she stayed clear of the cameras.

Swaying her hips and shaking her shoulders, Willow moved to the beat of the music. Closing her eyes, she swung her hair, waving her arms and rolling her hips. She was the sexiest thing he’d seen in his life and he’d seen a lot.

Gideon clenched the arms of the chair, and the wood groaned in his tightening grip. He would’ve killed for a piece of gum.

A guy from the bar hopped off his barstool, his gaze fastened on her, and swooped in.

Gideon sprang to his feet. Hands tightened to fists, he cut a hard line to Willow, sights locked on the motherfucker.

Holy hell. He was not that dude, the psycho jealous type. Being with Willow was driving him asylum-certified crazy.

The guy caught sight of Gideon approaching and raised his hands, cowering away in warranted fear. Willow met Gideon’s eyes, a flush rising on her cheeks. He whisked her into his arms.

“I thought that guy might ask me to dance,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s why I scared him off.”

“I don’t understand.” She pulled away. “You don’t dance. You can’t wait for me to take other lovers. But you have a problem if someone else dances with me?”

“Why are you pissed? I feel like you’ve been mad at me since the boat.”

“Mad?” She shook her head. “I’m disappointed.”

That King Kong–sized bombshell practically knocked him on his ass. Disappointment was bound to happen in a relationship, but they were only fucking and she was already disappointed?

“This is why I don’t do relationships. The double Ds. Discontent and drama.”

She squeezed her eyes shut like she couldn’t bear the sight of him. He knew the look well, but seeing it on Willow’s face wrenched something inside his chest.

“It was a mistake to force you to have pity sex with me.” She hurried out of the restaurant.

Pity sex? Was that what she thought this was?

Gideon dropped money on the table, leaving a generous tip, and hustled after her. She was fast and almost made it to the room before he reached their floor. He waited for her to step inside and followed behind her, not wanting to cause a scene in the hall.

* * *

Willow’s heart raced in her throat. Longing for something was one thing. Suddenly getting it and knowing you’d soon lose it and would continue to crave it was a rare kind of torture.

Gideon locked the door. “You didn’t force me to have sex with you. Look at me.” He clasped her arms, coaxing her gaze to his. “I have not been having sex with you out of pity. Please don’t think that.”

“Do you even like me?” She wrapped her arms around herself, not certain if she wanted to hear the answer.

“Like you?” A furious expression twisted across his face, and he shook his head. “You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever been with.”

She winced, wanting to shrivel into nothing, not needing a reminder that she was different.