My heart ached as I felt Gideon get out of the bed. The warmth he'd provided vanished with him, leaving me alone in the cold.

I'd woken up; my body too attuned to him–too desperate for him–to not notice that he went away. I'd hoped he would come back; I was waiting for him to, but he didn't. Instead, I was left with a feeling of emptiness and a heart that hurt.

What we'd just shared, the moment between us filled with pleasure and pain, had been special. I knew it had been. I'd loved the way he'd manhandled me, but also the way he had withheld my orgasm. My clit still ached with not having been allowed to come, and my pussy hurt from the serious stretch and forceful thrusts.

Gideon had really gone on and done it–he had ruined me. And now he was gone as well, making me feel like little more than a fuck toy for him to use.

What had I done wrong?

It had taken time before the exhaustion finally took me under again, and I fell into a dreamless sleep. I was grateful to escape my thoughts that tormented me after he left.

The sun shining through the window stirred me to wake, but not one single cell in my body wanted to get up. The second I woke up, I remembered every part of yesterday–most notably, what happened after my session with Gideon. The hurt I'd felt tonight came rushing back, and I threw the blankets over my head as if I was hiding from my own torment.

I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to know why I wasn't enough for him to want to stay. Was that too much to ask for? For him to hold me through the night after he'd punished me?

Insecurities I'd been struggling with all my life was now back in full force. The improvements I'd experienced with the guys took a significant step back. My overactive brain was hard at work trying to pin this all on me like I was the one at fault.

Furious for even thinking it, I finally got out of bed. He was the one at fault, not me. If he was going to sneak out in the middle of the night, leaving me hurt and confused, he could very well explain to me why.

My clothes were nowhere to be seen, which wasn't surprising since I'd undressed in the other room. I looked around the room and saw a third door I hadn't opened before. Walking to it, I looked inside, and sure enough, it was a walk-in closet.

The whole space was filled with women's clothing and shoes. I had major Déjà Vu from when I slept over at Callan, and he'd bought me at least triple the clothes I currently had in my apartment. Right now, though, I didn't give it a second thought; I needed to talk to Gideon about last night.

Opening a drawer, I found a pair of panties, and in the second drawer underneath, I found bras as well. I didn't even try guessing at how they all knew my sizes.

Not bothering with figuring out to wear, I threw on the first thing I saw. It was a simple all-white sundress. It looked cute, not going to lie, but I didn't care about that now. I didn't want to look good for Gideon; I wanted to look as angry as I felt.

Storming down the hall, I followed the scent of coffee all the way to the kitchen. I was so ready to start questioning him, but one look at him, and I stopped short.

He hadn't noticed me yet, and I took advantage of that as I took in his dark, disheveled hair, like he'd run his hands through it one too many times. He had dark circles under his eyes, making it evident that he hadn't slept–or if he did, it couldn't have been for long.

I stood there watching him when he thought no one was looking. There was something about his stony expression that seemed a little troubled, and that look of pain in his eyes made the anger I'd felt vanish in the blink of an eye.

Gideon was shirtless. It was the first time I'd gotten a look at what he had under his clothes. This man was scary huge; I'd never seen someone this big before. Every inch of his upper body was pure muscles. The saying "Built like a tank" suddenly made sense, and it fitted his description to the T.

The tattoos I hadn't had a chance to look at before now–except for the intricate design around his neck–was on display. His entire upper body and arms were covered in them, and they were all in shades of black. I saw images of dragons, snakes, pine trees, a skull, a dying rose, and so much more. Smoke or fog was filling in the few blank spots, connecting each of the many pieces together. It was dark and twisted and beautiful.

I'd been staring at his chest, trying to get a look inside his mind by scrutinizing his ink, and didn't notice him looking at me until he cleared his throat.

Tensing slightly, my eyes met his. Gone was the look of pain, and in return was the wall of darkness, hindering me from seeing his emotions.

"Good morning," I whispered guiltily, having been caught staring. I'd noticed it yesterday, the way I was making my voice softer–like a whisper–in his company as if I was speaking in his own language. It wasn't something I'd done on purpose.

Gideon grunted something I couldn't catch. "There's coffee in the pot," he said more clearly.

Nodding gratefully, I grabbed a cup from the cabinet and filled it to the brim. It smelt delicious and expensive and tasted just the same as it smelt. The warm liquid settled in my stomach pleasantly, and I knew before I even had more than a sip that I needed another cup after this one.

Turning back to him, I saw that he'd put on a white t-shirt, preventing me from looking closer at his tattoos.

The silence between us wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, which surprised me. I always felt the need to fill the silence by talking with other people I didn't know well. But not with him.

"Have you been up long?" I asked when I refilled my cup.

"A while," he said, and from the tired sound in his voice, a while must mean a long time. I didn't know what had kept him up, but I wanted to. It wasn't because I was curious. I just...fuck, I cared for him, which was why I was now worried about him.

As if he knew what I was thinking, he scowled and looked away. Knowing I couldn't push him, I let it go. I'd never force him to open up; he needed to decide that all on his own.

Walking over to the window, I looked out at the garden instead of sitting down next to him. This must be the backyard, and it was utterly beautiful. Everything was green and well-taken care of. If I wasn't mistaken, I think I saw a maze made out of hedges.

I shouldn't have drunk the second cup of coffee because it always ran straight through me.

"Where are you going?" Gideon asked as I started retreating to the bedroom I had slept in.

"To the bathroom, or am I not allowed to pee?" I didn't know where the sass came from, but I really needed to pee.

Scowling even harder than he did before, he narrowed his eyes. "Watch your tone," he warned me, but let me finally go.

It felt like ages before I sat down on the toilet. I let out a sigh that I managed to get here before I peed myself–which would've been gross and so embarrassing. I would've moved to another country than meet Gideon's eyes again if that had happened.

A knock on the door made me jump on the seat. "What is it?" I yelled, not even trying to keep my voice down, knowing he would have trouble hearing me. His bass-y tone made his voice more clear than my soft one.

I had to freaking stop peeing, like mid fucking stream, to actually hear Gideon talk. "Your phone is ringing," he informed me.

"I'll be right there. Can you answer it for me?" I was just messing with him; I knew he wouldn't. Gideon really wasn't fond of talking.

It must be Kevin calling like he always did after I'd spent a night at one of the guys' home. I would just call him back.

Washing my hands carefully, I made my way back to the kitchen. I stopped abruptly when I heard Gideon talking on my phone.

No fucking way, he had trouble speaking full sentences to me, and now he was talking to a complete stranger? Kevin must be thrilled right now. He had to know who was on the phone with him.

Gideon looked up and saw me standing frozen by the entrance to the kitchen. He gave me a wicked smirk and said, "Emma is here now. It was a pleasure talking to you, Mrs. Fields."