One With You

by Sylvia Day

  Eva took the bench seat that spanned the length of the vehicle, while I settled on the seat in the back. “Want a drink?” she asked, looking at the bar across from her.

  “Do you?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her lips pursed. “I wanted one earlier.”

  I waited for her to make up her mind, my gaze sliding over her. She was my joy, the light in my world. I would do anything to keep her carefree and content for the rest of her life. It weighed on me to think I might have to hurt her. She’d been through so much already.

  If we found out that Monica was not who Eva thought she was at all, how would I break that news? My wife had been crushed when she realized her mother was tracking her via her mobile phone, her watch, and a compact mirror in her purse. A false identity was a much worse betrayal.

  And what did that fake identity hide?

  “I can’t find a dress,” she said abruptly, her lush mouth turned down in a frown.

  It took me a beat to snap out of my thoughts and register what she was saying. “For the wedding?”

  She nodded, looking so despondent I wanted to pull her close and press kisses all over her beautiful face.

  “Want me to help, angel?”

  “You can’t. The groom isn’t supposed to see the wedding dress before the big day.” Her eyes widened with shock and horror. “You saw the dress I wore when we got married the first time!”

  I had. I’d picked it out. “It was only a dress when I saw it,” I soothed. “It wasn’t a wedding dress until you wore it.”

  “Oh.” The smile came back. She peeled off her sandals and joined me, lying down with her head in my lap, her hair a silvery gold fan across my thighs.

  Running my fingers through the thick silk strands, I took a deep breath, relishing the smell of her perfume.

  “What are you going to wear?” she asked, her eyes closing.

  “Are you picturing something in particular?”

  Her mouth curved. Her answer came out slow and dreamy. “A tux. You’re always gorgeous. But in a tuxedo, you’re something else.”

  I brushed my fingertips over her lips. There had been times when I hated my face, hated that my looks attracted intense sexual interest at a time when being lusted after made my skin crawl. Eventually, I got used to the attention, but not until Eva did I begin to value who I was for my own sake.

  She took so much pleasure in looking at me. Clothed. Unclothed. In the shower. Wrapped in a towel. On top of her. Underneath her. About the only time her eyes weren’t on me was when she was asleep. Which was when I often took the most pleasure in looking at her, lusciously naked, wearing nothing but the jewelry I’d given her.

  “A tux it is, then.”

  Her eyes opened, revealing the soft gray I adored. “But it’s a beach wedding.”

  “I’ll make it work.”

  “Yes, I bet you can.”

  Turning her head, she nuzzled her nose against my cock. The heat of her breath drifted through the khakis to my sensitive skin. I hardened for her.

  I played with her hair. “What do you want, angel?”

  “This.” She ran her fingers along the length of my erection.

  “How do you want it?”

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “In my mouth,” she breathed, already freeing the button of my waistband.

  My eyes closed for a moment on a deep inhalation. The sound of my zipper lowering, the release of pressure as she carefully freed my cock …

  I steeled myself for the wet heat of her mouth, but it was pointless. I jerked hard when she pulled me in with easy suction, hunger and need tingling down my spine. I knew her moods and how they translated to sex. She planned to take her time, to enjoy me and drive me out of my mind.

  “Eva.” I groaned as she stroked me with gentle fingers, her mouth working softly. She tongued the head of my dick with slow, savoring licks.

  Opening my eyes, I looked down at her. The sight of her, so perfectly presentable, her focus entirely on the feel of my cock in her mouth was both searingly erotic and achingly tender.

  “God, that’s good,” I said hoarsely, cupping the back of her head in one hand. “Take it deeper … yes, like that …”

  My head fell back as my thighs tensed, straining with the need to thrust. I fought the urge, letting her take what she wanted.

  “I won’t finish like this,” I warned her, knowing that was her goal.

  She hummed a protest and fisted me, pumping my cock in her soft, firm grip. Challenging me to resist her.

  “I’ll be riding your perfect cunt, Eva. My cum is going to be deep inside you while you spend the weekend away from me.”

  My eyes closed as I imagined her in Ibiza, a city famous for its wild nightlife, dancing with her friends in a crush of bodies. Men would covet her, dream of fucking her. All the while she’d be marked by me in the most primitive way possible. Possessed, even though I wasn’t there.

  I felt her moan vibrate along the length of my dick.

  She pulled back, her lips already red and plump. “That’s not fair,” she pouted.

  I caught her wrist and lifted her hand to my chest, pressing it against my pounding heart. “You’ll be right here, angel. Always.”

  “Mano, you can’t be working right now,” Manuel complained, dropping into the lounger beside me. “You’re missing the view.”

  I glanced up from my phone, the ocean breeze rifling through my hair. We’d remained in Barra today, directly across Avenida Lúcio Costa from the hotel we were staying in. Recreio Beach was more laid-back than Copacabana, less touristy and crowded. All along the shore, women in bikinis frolicked in the surf, breasts bouncing as they jumped waves, nearly-bare asses glistening with tanning oil. On the white sand in front of them, Arash and Arnoldo continued tossing a Frisbee back and forth. I’d bowed out when I felt my phone buzz in the pocket of my board shorts.

  I looked at Manuel, finding him flushed and glistening with sweat. He’d disappeared about an hour ago and it was obvious why, even without knowing him as well as I did.

  “My view is better.” I turned my phone to show him the selfie Eva had just sent me. She was lying out on the beach, too, stretched across a lounger not much different from the one I occupied. Her bikini was white, her skin already lightly tanned. A thin chain hooked around her neck, nestled between her plump tits, then wrapped around her trim waist. Sunglasses shielded her eyes and bright red gloss stained the lips she’d puckered in a kiss.

  Wish you were here … she’d texted.

  So did I. I was counting down the several hours remaining until we’d get on the plane home. Saturday had been enjoyable enough, a blur of alcohol and music, but Sunday was a day too long.

  Manuel whistled. “Hot damn.”

  I grinned, as that about summed up my thoughts on my wife’s photo.

  “Don’t you worry that things will change after you say I do?” he asked, leaning back with his hands tucked behind his head. “Wives don’t look like that. They don’t send selfies like that.”

  I exited out to the home screen and flipped my phone around again.

  Manuel’s eyes widened at the wedding photo that served as my wallpaper. “No way. When?”

  “A month ago.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t see it. Marriage, I mean, not you and Eva. How does it not get old?”

  “Being happy never gets old.”

  “Isn’t variety the spice of life or some shit?” he asked, in some sort of half-assed philosophical mood. “Part of the fun in fucking a woman is figuring out what makes her tick and being surprised when she shows you something new. You keep tagging it, doesn’t it become routine? Touch her here, lick her there, keep the rhythm she likes to get her off … Rinse and repeat.”

  “When your time comes, you’ll figure it out.”

  He shrugged. “You want kids? Is that why?”

  “Eventually. Not any time soon.” I couldn’t even picture it. Eva would make a wonderful mother; she was a nur
turer. But the two of us together as parents? One day, I’d be ready for that. One day far away, when I could bear to share her with someone else. “Right now, I just want her.”

  “Mr. Cross.”

  I looked up and saw Raúl standing behind me, his mouth a tight line. I instantly stiffened, then sat up, my legs swinging off the side to plant my feet in the sand. “What is it?”

  Fear for Eva settled heavily in my gut. She’d just texted me moments before, but …

  “You’ll want to see this,” he said grimly, drawing my attention to the tablet he carried.

  Standing, I shoved my phone in my pocket and closed the distance between us. I held out my hand. The glare from the sun darkened the screen, so I shifted to cast my shadow over the glass. The photo that came into focus froze the blood in my veins. The headline made my teeth grind.

  Gideon Cross’s Wild Brazilian Bachelor Party.

  “What the fuck is this?” I snapped.

  Manuel slapped a hand on my shoulder as he came up beside me. “Looks like a good time, cabrón. With two very hot babes.”

  I looked at Raúl.

  “Clancy sent that to me,” he explained. “I ran a search and it’s gone viral.”

  Clancy. Fuck. Eva …

  Shoving the tablet at Raúl, I yanked my phone back out. “I want to know who took that picture.” Who knew I was in Brazil? Who’d followed me into a club one night, into a private VIP area, and taken pictures?

  “Already on it.”

  Cursing under my breath, I called my wife. Impatience and fury rode me hard as I waited for her to pick up. Her voice mail kicked in and I hung up. Dialed again. Worry crowded in.

  The worst fears of her fantasies were captured in living color in that photo. I had to explain, even without knowing how. Sweat beaded my forehead and dampened my palms, but inside, I was chilled.

  Her voice mail picked up a second time.

  “Goddamn it.” Hanging up, I dialed again.

  11

  “You look like you need a refill,” Shawna said, setting down two rebujitos on the small table between our two loungers.

  “God.” I laughed, slightly tipsy. The mix of dry sherry and sweet soda in the drink had a sneaky punch. And it wasn’t exactly wise to chase away a hangover with more alcohol. “I’m going to need to detox after this weekend.”

  She grinned and stretched back out, her freckled skin still pale and slightly pink after two days in the sun. Her red hair was piled atop her head in a sexy mess, her voice slightly hoarse from laughing so hard the night before. She’d donned a bright aqua blue bikini that drew many appreciative eyes her way. Shawna was a bright spot of color, with a ready smile and bawdy sense of humor.

  In that way, she was a lot like her brother, who I knew and loved as the fiancé of my former boss, Mark.

  Megumi walked up on my other side, carrying two more drinks. She looked at the empty lounger where my mom had been. “Where’s Monica?”

  “She went to cool off in the water.” I looked for her but didn’t see her. She was hard to miss in her lavender bikini, so I figured she’d wandered off somewhere. “She’ll be back.”

  She’d been with us the whole time, partying alongside us every step of the way. It wasn’t her style to drink too much and stay up too late, but she seemed to be having fun. She was certainly causing a stir. Men of all ages flocked around her. There was a kittenish sensuality about my mother that was irresistible. I wished I had that.

  “Look at him go,” Shawna said, drawing my attention to where Cary played in the surf. “He’s a total chick magnet.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  The beach was packed, so much so that it was hard to see the sand. Dozens of shoulders and heads bobbed amid the ocean waves, but it was easy to see the cluster around Cary. He was flashing his grin, soaking up the attention like a cat in the sun. With his hair slicked back, the beauty of his gorgeous face was on display, despite the aviator shades he wore to block out the bright sun.

  Catching me watching him, he waved. I blew him a kiss, just to stir things up.

  “You and Cary never got together?” Shawna asked. “Did you ever want to?”

  I shook my head. Cary was stunning now, healthy and leanly muscular, a prime example of the perfect male. But when I’d met him, he had been gaunt and hollow-eyed, always shrouded in hoodies even in the warmth of San Diego summers. He’d kept his arms covered to hide the evidence of his cutting and wore the hood over his closely cropped head.

  In group therapy sessions, he’d always sat outside the circle and against a wall, his chair kicked back to balance on the rear legs. He commented rarely, but when he did, his humor was dark and laced with sarcasm, his insight almost always cynical.

  I had approached him once, unable to ignore the deep inner pain that radiated from him. Don’t waste my time easing into it, he’d said smoothly, his beautiful green eyes devoid of any light at all. You want to ride my dick, just say so. I never say no to a fuck.

  I knew that was true. Dr. Travis had a lot of messed-up patients, many of whom used sex as a salve or form of self-punishment. Cary was available to be used by all of them, and many walked through that open-door invitation frequently.

  No, thanks, I’d shot back, disgust triggered by his sexual aggression. You’re too skinny for me. Eat a fucking cheeseburger, dickhead.

  I regretted trying to be nice to him after that. He’d stalked me mercilessly, constantly putting me off with crass sexual come-ons. I’d been prickly at first. When that didn’t work, I’d killed him with kindness. Eventually, he’d realized I really wasn’t going to sleep with him.

  In the meantime, he started putting on weight. He let his hair start growing out. He stopped being the resident fuck, although he was simply more selective. I had noticed how gorgeous he was, but there was no attraction there. He was too much like me and my self-preservation instincts had been on high alert.

  “We were friends,” I told her. “Then he became like a brother to me.”

  “I adore him,” Megumi said, smoothing suntan lotion over her legs. “He told me that things are rough with him and Trey right now. I’m sorry to hear that. They’re so great together.”

  I nodded, my gaze going back to my dearest friend. Cary was lifting a woman up by the waist to toss her into the waves. She came up sputtering and laughing, clearly smitten. “It’s lame to say that it’ll work out if it’s meant to, but that’s what I’m going with.”

  I still needed to call Trey. And Gideon’s mom, Elizabeth. I wanted to touch base with Ireland, too. And Chris. Since I’d probably be wiped out from jet lag and too much alcohol, I made a mental note to fit in all those calls while I recovered at the penthouse. I had to touch base with my dad, too, since I’d put off our scheduled Saturday call due to the time difference between us.

  “I don’t want to go home.” Megumi stretched out with a sigh, her drink in her hands. “These two days went by too fast. I can’t believe we’re leaving in a few hours.”

  I could easily stay another week, if I weren’t missing Gideon so much.

  “Eva, honey.”

  My head tilted at the sound of my mom’s voice. She’d come up behind me and stood behind my lounger wrapped in her cover-up. “Is it time to go already?”

  She shook her head. Then I noticed she was wringing her hands. Never a good sign.

  “Can you come back to the hotel with me?” she asked. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  I saw Clancy standing behind her, his jaw tight and hard. My pulse began to race. Standing, I grabbed the sarong I’d worn down to the beach and tied it around my waist.

  “Should we come?” Shawna asked, sitting up.

  “Stay here with Cary,” my mom replied, offering a reassuring smile.

  It amazed me how she did that, acting so cool and unruffled when I knew she was anxious. I was too expressive to hide my reactions, but my mom only showed emotion with her eyes and her hands, often saying that even laughter put lines
on a face. Since she was wearing sunglasses, she was effectively camouflaged.

  Mutely, I followed her and Clancy back to the hotel. Once we reached the lobby, it seemed like every employee had to greet us with a smile or wave. They all knew who I was. After all, we were staying in one of Gideon’s resorts. The name Vientos Cruzados meant Crosswinds.

  Gideon had married me at a Crosswinds resort. I hadn’t realized they were a global chain.

  We stepped into an elevator and Clancy slid a key card into the necessary slot, a security measure that limited access to our floor. Since there were other people in the car with us, I still had to wait for answers.

  I felt sick to my stomach, my thoughts bouncing all over the place. Had something happened to Gideon? Or my dad? I realized I’d left my phone on the table by my drink and kicked myself. If I could only send a quick text to Gideon, I’d feel like I was doing something besides driving myself crazy.

  After three stops, the elevator car was empty except for us as we continued the climb to our floor.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, turning to face both my mom and Clancy.

  She pulled her shades off with trembling fingers. “There’s a scandal brewing,” she began. “Mostly online.”

  Which meant it was out of control. Or about to be. “Mom. Just tell me.”

  She took a deep breath. “There are some pictures …” She glanced at Clancy for help.

  “Of what?” I thought I might vomit. Had the pictures my stepbrother Nathan had taken gotten out somehow? Or stills from the sex tape with Brett?

  “Photos of Gideon Cross in Brazil went viral this morning,” Clancy said. He spoke neutrally, but there was something oddly stiff about his stance. So much tension was unusual for him.

  I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. I didn’t say anything more. There was nothing to say until I saw the evidence.

  We exited directly into our suite, a massive space with several bedrooms and a large central living area. The maids had opened the doors leading out to the wraparound balcony, and the sheer drapes fluttered in the breeze, escaping the ties meant to contain them. Bright with the color and warmth of Spain, the suite had delighted me the moment we arrived.