Chapter Eight

After Georgia left, Gideon threw his paper plate into the trash and headed back toward the hotel. Mission accomplished. Brandon had taken the bait. Unfortunately, Gideon hadn’t enjoyed being used by Georgia like a lure made of a feather and some shiny string.

But wasn’t that what she was to him, too? A mirage, an illusion. Yes, only that.

Only that.

No matter what noises she made when he fucked her. No matter how her breath broke when he thrust deep inside—they had a deal.

But really she was the only one who was getting what she wanted. Even though he’d insisted upon it before she’d talked to Brandon, he’d let her leave without barely spilling a word about her life now. When she returned to the table, she’d begged to bring Kim some food. Her poor, sick friend needed her and he’d caved.

She had made him so hard, he was turning soft.

He knew nothing about her other than the rumors floating around at the reunion, and she’d hardly even elaborated about those. Hopefully she would still keep up her end of the bargain, even though it had taken all of fifteen minutes to start making Brandon jealous.

He headed out to the pool. A bunch of his ex-classmates were swimming, and the rest were drinking at the Tiki bar or lounging on white chaises. He ordered a beer and looked around for Alec.

Where the hell was he? He and Valerie had disappeared. Not that he could blame Alec. Given the choice, he would have disappeared, too. He’d thought fucking Georgia would bring things into focus. Boy, had he been wrong. Fucking her had felt good, too good. He wondered if he might never recover. It was easy to explain away his stupor as utter emptiness after expelling all his bottled-up resentment into her. It was a lot harder to come to terms with what had really wrecked him—the way she responded to how rough he had been.

She’d wanted it. She’d believed she deserved it. Was that kind of an apology?

He pulled out his phone to text Alec and found that Kurt had texted just minutes earlier.

Tell me to stop being worried.

Gideon shook his head. Kurt was like a rubber band made of dynamite. He took a seat at one of the tables by the bar and clicked into Kurt’s number. Better to talk him off the ledge than text him off it. “Stop being worried,” Gideon said when Kurt’s voice came on the line.

“That would be a hell of a lot easier if Richard’s assistant hadn’t just called asking what your girlfriend’s name was so she could add it to the dinner reservation.”

Gideon inhaled sharply. “What did you tell her?”

“I pretended that I was driving and the call got dropped.” Kurt’s voice was high, shaky. “What the hell are you going to do, Gideon?” Kurt was probably pacing around his apartment in Palo Alto, wearing the already worn linoleum floors to dust. Any drunken bluster he’d had last night was replaced by searing anxiety.

“Go to the dinner with my girlfriend.”

“Did you meet someone overnight or something?” Kurt replied with a laugh. And why shouldn’t he? It was insane that Gideon had. Someone actually had fallen into his lap, or more accurately his bed—a shed.

“Sort of.” He took a sip of his beer. A few of his former classmates were playing chicken in the pool. The screechy laughter of women up on shoulders was like nails on a chalkboard.

“Are you kidding? You seriously found a woman after we hung up? I guess it’s true what they say about reunions. Alcohol and nostalgia can make anyone look good.”

Gideon swallowed. That had been exactly how it had started. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been the one who looked good to Georgia. Gideon might have felt good to her, though. No, he remembered the sweet slick of her against his tongue: there was no question—I did.

“She’s not really mine,” Gideon finally said, the mid-afternoon sun hot on the back of his head.

“Do I even want to know what you’ve gotten us into now?” He could tell Kurt was pacing again.

“I made a deal with someone. She’s pretending to be my girlfriend and she’s an actress. Richard will buy it.” Gideon spoke fast, because he wanted to buy it, too. He’d done this because he needed Georgia—for no other reason, for no other reason.

“I hate this idea.”

“It’s better than not having anyone for Richard to meet. How am I supposed to find a serious girlfriend in a weekend?” A bit of pool water splashed at Gideon’s feet.

“This better look real,” Kurt said.

“It will, I promise,” Gideon replied, and in making that promise he understood he would have to try and make things work with Georgia. Work in the way that their arrangement spelled out. Not in what had just happened between them in the shed.

Kurt cleared his throat. “Listen man, I’m sorry. I appreciate how far you’re going to fix this.”

“Like you said, I got us into this. I need to get us out.”

“So what’s her name, anyway?” Kurt’s voice was calmer. “So I can get the phone call back to Richard’s assistant out of the way.”

“Georgia.” Gideon bit the inside of his cheek, the sting mirroring the rip that was still running through him. “Georgia Cahill.”

“Wait,” Kurt replied, his next words coming like ammo, “the bitch who called you Gilligan and made her boyfriend beat the crap out of you in high school?”

Gideon knew all this. Knew even more than what he’d shared with Kurt as they commiserated about their terrible high school experiences when they first met in college, but hearing it relayed was yet another reminder as to why he needed to keep his distance when it came to Georgia—the same woman he needed to keep close for both their sakes.

“How the hell did you get her to agree?” Kurt continued.

“People change,” Gideon finally replied, though his voice wasn’t at all convincing. While Georgia had changed a little—she would have had to, to agree to his proposal—he also couldn’t help but wonder if she was just the same underneath. The same person in a ten-years-older wrapper—identical, but grown up—if people didn’t change at all. If he was stupid enough to offer her kindness now, would she rebuff him the same way she had back then?

Why did he care? She didn’t need to have changed to pretend to be his girlfriend, but he couldn’t want her the way he did if she was still that girl. He shouldn’t want her at all.

“You better be careful,” Kurt persisted, as if reading Gideon’s mind.

“Trust me. I’m the one in control of this lie.”

“Whatever you say,” Kurt continued. “I honestly don’t care who you found and what she used to do to you, as long as she’s on your arm Monday night.”

Gideon took another swig of beer, his mouth drier than sand. “This will work. It has to. It’s either her, or you dressed up in drag.”

Kurt snickered. “For this deal, I’d do it, dude, but I think Richard might recognize me. I suppose we could say your girlfriend was my twin sister.”

Gideon shook his head. “Just imagine having to keep up that lie.”

When they ended the call, lie was the word on Gideon’s mind. Everything was a lie now. Except for the one truth that was burned like a brand onto his cock—Georgia Cahill wanted you and you wanted her.

…

Georgia made her way down the hall to her room with a plate for Kim balanced in her hand. The fact that she had been fucked—hard—was all she could feel.

Even with the promise of resuming her conversation with Brandon later, Gideon’s breath replayed hot, insistent, and as carnal as a growl in her ear. She’d done that to him. He’d done that to her. And now she still had to convince Brandon that she was his meant-to-be by the end of the weekend.

She needed a shower. Damn, she needed another lobotomy.

When she reached the door to their room, she found a small plastic bag out front with her name typed on it. She set down the plate and opened the bag. It contained her laundered thong and bra.

She worked the fine floss of the thong between her fingers. Rather than keep her undergarments as souvenirs or even shove them in her face, Gideon had them cleaned and delivered back to her. Her stomach butterflied with warmth, until she realized he would have had to arrange it first thing this morning to have the package here waiting for her.

The act was less after-sex-chivalry and more needing to have anything that was hers bleached and expelled from his suite ASAP. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t damn grateful her Band-Aid bra hadn’t made an appearance at the obstacle course.

The room was gray, and Kim was a lump on the bed when Georgia entered. A low moan emanated from under the covers.

“Sweetie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I think I puked out my gallbladder, but I’m fine.”

Georgia tossed the laundry bag on her bed and looked down at the food. “I brought you something to eat, but I’m guessing…”

“No.” Kim sat up and held her hand out. “Please.” Her face was a sickly green and her curly hair was flat and sweaty on her head. “No.”

Georgia deposited the food in the hallway and stepped back into the room tentatively. “I can leave if you want to rest,” she said, even though she had no idea where she would go.

This room was her one sanctuary. The place she’d hoped she could escape to. She ran from Gideon when given the opportunity. It was bad enough she had to sit with him at the barbecue, after all they had done, and have to pretend she liked him. But, damn if she hadn’t liked it. Damn if she hadn’t craved his cock like it was her drug of choice and she was a junkie.

“No, stay,” Kim said. “Talk to me. I didn’t come to my high school reunion to puke and sleep, even though that appears to be all I’m capable of thus far.” She sat up against the headboard, clicked on the light, and took a deep, centering breath. “Tell me how Operation Brandon is going.”

Georgia headed to her side of the room. “I’m supposed to see him tonight.” It was the only thing she could share that wasn’t a lie. It was the only thing keeping her from losing her mind—she and Brandon would see each other later.

Whatever had just happened with Gideon, whatever had to happen during Gideon’s dinner, she would be next to Brandon later, doing what she was supposed to be doing for once this weekend. Unfortunately, to ensure Brandon’s interest, she would probably have to go at least one more round of footsie with Gideon.

Just one will be all it’ll take, right?

She replayed Brandon’s reply. I’m sure I’ll see you later. It was the least assured statement in the world. No, she’d definitely need to go another round of footsie with Gideon.

Kim eyed her. “You look like you just had sex.”

“What?” Georgia managed as she sat on the edge of the bed. Though if her face still had an afterglow, the blush on top of it would have only magnified it.

“Your skin, your hair, and hell, even the way you’re breathing. Did you and Brandon—” Kim started.

“No,” Georgia interrupted, not wanting to completely lie to Kim’s face.

Kim threw her head back with a huff. “You’re seriously not going to tell me. This was all my idea and it’s finally working and you’re not going to tell me.”

How could she tell her? It was all a lie.

“Fine, I understand.” Kim pulled the covers up.

“No, no, it’s just…”

Kim’s face fell, and her hazel eyes went watery. “I’m not going to tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve literally only talked to the toilet and God for the past four hours.”

Georgia played with her hands. The last person she wanted to upset was Kim, her only friend here. The one person who knew exactly who she was now and still loved her. Well, except about all the Gideon stuff. She would eventually have sex with Brandon anyway, wouldn’t she? Was it that big a deal to say she had already?

“You’re right,” Georgia said, fighting the bile rising, “we just had sex.”

“Tell me everything.” Kim’s face brightened under the green pallor.

Georgia wanted to, but the words wouldn’t come. She was having a hard enough time working them out in her mind. She couldn’t believe she was actually still thinking them.

“I’m not going to have to keep pulling details out of you, am I?”

Georgia exhaled heavily; there was no escaping the words whether she said them or not. “He was great, actually. One of the best I’ve had.”

“You sound surprised.”

“No, it’s just I wasn’t expecting it to happen. I wasn’t expecting to want it as much as I did,” she continued, as more truth rolled out and smacked her in the face.

She hadn’t expected her need for Gideon to be like a hunger. When she’d said yes to him in the shed, it had nothing to do with wanting to get sex out of the way so they could act normal around each other, or whatever other crap he spewed. It was only how his cock felt against her leg. The way his eyes seemed to rock her to her core. The way his words made her crave his punishment. She deserved it. She wanted to deserve it.

“Of course you feel that way. He’s your soul mate!” Kim exclaimed.

“Right,” Georgia replied shakily, remembering they were talking about Brandon. Brandon. Not Gideon. Not the man who made her come so hard she still ached now.

“So is he different, better than he was?”

“Of course,” Georgia blurted. “I mean, he’s had ten years of practice,” she added quickly as cover. But she couldn’t help wondering if Gideon had been that amazing all along. If through all of high school when he was staring at her from across the room and she was rolling her eyes, he had that in his pants waiting—for her.

“I’m so excited,” Kim squealed. “Seriously, this is going so much better than we could have planned.”

“I know.” Acid shadowed Georgia’s words.

“Oh damn…” Kim covered her mouth, her eyes going wide. “Hold on.” She jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom. The door slammed behind her and retching followed.

Georgia should have been grossed out, but she welcomed the sound. It was what was happening inside her, a retching, a sickness. This was not going better than they could have planned. It was going worse than anyone could have imagined.

Sure, she would see Brandon later and maybe, maybe she could fix everything. But Gideon had crawled inside her in that shed. He was in her gut now, clawing away, making her wonder why she had surrendered so completely to him. Why she was afraid to tell him what everyone else knew about her life.

Gideon might have insisted she check her attitude, but it was all she had to defend herself. She couldn’t say no to him, that was clear, so she’d need to make him never want to ask again.