by Sylvia Day
“They’re watching you, aren’t they?” he purred.
“Watching you. When I lift, they can catch a glimpse of you, see how large your cock really is. They want it, ache for it, but it’s mine. You’re the one watching me. You can’t take your eyes off me. For you, there’s no one else in the room.”
“But I still don’t touch you, do I?” His mouth curved wickedly when I shook my head. “I sip the cachaça casually, as if I don’t have the sexiest woman alive riding my dick in full view of everyone. I’m not bored anymore, but then, I never was. I was waiting. For you. Knowing you were there because of the hum in my blood.”
With my hands on his shoulders, I fucked him with cadenced pumps of my hips. He was delicious. The feel of his cock moving inside me. The low, dangerous rumble in his chest that betrayed how aroused he was. The sheen of sweat on his chest. The way his abs clenched when I dropped down and his cock pushed deep. I couldn’t get enough.
And the way he joined my game … how well he knew me … how much he loved me …
Gideon lost himself in sex with me, but he was always aware, his focus on me before his orgasm. He’d recognized my fantasy of exhibitionist sex before I had, and he indulged it. Always keeping me safe, never truly risking exposure but teasing me with the possibility of it. I would never share him that way, I was too possessive. And he would never share even a glimpse of me because he was too protective.
But we teased and we played. For two people for whom sex had been introduced with pain and shame, that we could find such joy and love in the act was wondrous.
“I’m so hard inside you,” he growled, flexing in my sex the way he had in my hand. “The music is loud, so no one hears the sounds I make, but you can feel them. You know you’re driving me crazy. The fact that I don’t show it turns you on as much as being watched.”
“Your control,” I gasped, speeding up the tempo.
“Because I’m topping from the bottom,” he said darkly. “You pretend to be in charge, but that’s not what you want. I know your secrets, Eva. I’ll know them all. There’s nothing you can hide from me.”
He put the pad of his thumb to his lips and ran his tongue across it in a slow, sensual lick, his eyes never leaving my face. Reaching between us, he rubbed my clit in hard, quick circles and I came with a cry, my sex milking his cock in ecstatic ripples.
He exploded into action, catching me close and rising, bearing me down to the couch on my back as he pushed off the floor with his feet, driving that final thick inch of cock inside me. Then he was fucking me with a violent, primal hunger, powering through the ripples of my climax in the race for his own.
Throwing his head back, he gasped my name and jerked inside me. He spurted hotly, groaning, his hips still thrusting as if he couldn’t stop.
Blinking, I came to, slowly aware of moonlight on the ceiling. A pillow cushioned my head and the warmth of a comforter blanketed my nude body.
I turned my head to look for Gideon, but the space beside me was empty, the covers disturbed but folded up neatly. I sat up and looked at the clock. It was almost three in the morning.
Sitting up, I looked toward the bathroom, then the hallway. Faint light filtered in through the crack of the partially closed door. I climbed out of bed and went to it, unhooking the robe that hung on the back. I slid into the peacock blue silk as I left the room, cinching the belt while I walked to Gideon’s home office.
It was the light from that room that lit the hallway and I squinted as I entered, my eyes unaccustomed to the brightness. I took in the scene with a swift glance: the puppy asleep on the dog bed and the pensive man sitting at his desk. His gaze was on the collage of photos of me that graced his wall, his arms balanced on the armrests of his chair, a tumbler of amber liquid held between his hands.
He looked at me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, padding across the room in my bare feet. “You’re not avoiding the bed, are you?”
“No. I should,” he qualified, “but no. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Want me to wear you out?” I offered a smile, which probably looked silly considering I had one eye closed against the glare.
My husband set his drink down and patted his lap. “Come here.”
I went to him, curling up against him with my arms around his neck. I pressed my lips to his jaw. “Something’s bugging you.”
And it had been bothering him all night, whatever it was.
Nuzzling the tip of his nose against the curve of my ear, he whispered, “Is there anything you haven’t told me?”
I frowned and pulled back, searching his face. “Like what?”
“Like anything.” His chest expanded on a deep breath. “Do you have any secrets left?”
I absorbed that, feeling an odd twisting in my stomach. “Your birthday present. But I’m not telling you what it is.”
A tiny smile softened his mouth.
“And you,” I murmur, charmed by that smile. “All the pieces of you that only I know. You are a secret I will keep until I breathe my last breath.”
His head bowed, his hair briefly shielding his face. “Angel.”
“Has something happened, Gideon?”
It took him a long moment to reply. He looked at me. “Would you tell me if someone you knew, someone close to you, was doing something illegal?”
The twisting in my gut turned into a knot. “What have you heard? Is some gossip blog spreading lies?”
He grew tense. “Answer the question, Eva.”
“No one’s doing anything illegal!”
“That’s not what I asked,” he said patiently but firmly.
I recalled the question. “Yes, I’d tell you. Of course. I tell you everything.”
He relaxed. His hand reached up and touched my face. “You can trust me with anything, angel. It doesn’t matter what it is.”
“I do.” I caught his wrist. “I don’t understand why you’re talking like this.”
“I don’t want any secrets between us.”
I shot him a look. “You’re the one who’s been guiltiest about that. You never used to tell me anything.”
“I’m working on that.”
“I know you are. That’s why things are really good between us right now.”
The soft smile came back. “They are, aren’t they?”
“Totally.” I kissed his smiling mouth. “No more running, no more hiding.”
Adjusting his hold on me, Gideon stood, lifting me with him.
“What are we doing?” I queried, burrowing into his warm body.
He headed back to the bedroom. “You’re going to wear me out.”
“Yay.”
The next morning passed like the morning before, with Gideon up at the usual time while I lazed naked in the bed like a sloth.
As he knotted his tie in the closet, he glanced away from the mirror to look at me. “What are your plans for the day?”
Yawning, I hugged my pillow closer. “I’m going back to sleep when you leave. Just for an hour. Blaire Ash is stopping by at ten.”
“Is he?” He looked back at the mirror. “Why?”
“I’m changing things around. We’re going to turn the guest bedroom into a home office with a Murphy bed. That way, we still have room for guests and I have a place to work.”
Gideon smoothed his tie, then started buttoning his vest, stepping out into the bedroom. “We didn’t discuss that.”
“True.” I deliberately moved my leg so that the sheet slid off it. “I didn’t want you to argue about it.”
We’d originally agreed to turn the guest room into my room and connect it to the master bath to form a his-and-hers master suite. The layout would address Gideon’s parasomnia but also meant we’d have to sleep in separate rooms.
“We shouldn’t be sharing a bed,” he said quietly.
“I disagree.” Before he could press the point, I went on. “I tried to make the best of it, Gideon, but I’m not happy with the idea of being apart like
that.”
He stood there silently, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “It’s not fair to make me choose between your happiness and your safety.”
“I know. But I’m not making you choose, I already decided. I’m aware that’s not fair, either, but the call had to be made and I made it.” I sat up and shoved the pillow behind me, scooting back so I could lean against the headboard.
“We made the call together. Then you apparently changed your mind without discussing it further. And flashing your tits at me—as stunning as they are—isn’t going to distract me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “If I wanted to distract you, I wouldn’t have brought the subject up in the first place.”
“Cancel the consult, Eva,” he said tightly. “We need to talk about this first.”
“The consult already happened. We had to cut it short because the cops came over, but Blaire’s already working on new designs. He’s bringing me some ideas today.”
Gideon’s hands came out of his pockets and his arms crossed. “So your happiness comes first and to hell with mine?”
“You’re not happy sharing a bed with me?”
A muscle in his jaw ticced. “Don’t jerk me around. You’re not taking into consideration what it would do to me if I hurt you.”
Abruptly my frustration turned to shame. “Gideon—”
“And you’re not thinking about what it would do to us,” he bit out. “I’ll let you experiment with a lot of things, Eva, but nothing that’s going to damage our relationship. If you want to fall asleep next to me, I’ll be there. If you want to wake up with me beside you, I can do that, too. But the hours in between when we’re both unconscious are too dangerous to gamble with on a fucking whim.”
I swallowed past a lump in my throat. I wanted to explain further, to tell him that I worried about the distance separate bedrooms would create. Not just physically but emotionally.
It hurt me to have him make love to me, then leave my bed. It took something beautiful and magical and turned it into something else. And if he stayed until I slept, then woke before me to return, he would suffer from lack of sleep. As tireless as he so often seemed, he was still human. He worked hard, worked out harder, and had to deal with tons of stress day after day. Being short on sleep couldn’t become routine.
But his fears for my safety weren’t going to be dismissed in a single conversation. We would have to go step-by-step.
“Okay,” I conceded. “Let’s agree to this: Blaire will drop off his concepts and we’ll look them over together later. In the meantime, we’ll agree not to knock down any walls in the guest room. I think that’s going too far, Gideon.”
“You didn’t think so before.”
“It’s a stopgap that may become permanent and we don’t want that. I mean, you don’t want that, do you? You want to work on sleeping together, right?”
He unfolded his arms and rounded the bed, taking a seat on the edge. Taking my hand in his, he lifted it to his lips. “Yes, I want that. It kills me that I can’t give you something so basic in our marriage. And knowing you’re unhappy about it … I’m sorry, angel. I can’t tell you how much.”
Leaning forward, I cupped his cheek. “We’ll work on it. I should’ve started by talking it out. Guess I pulled a Gideon on you—act first, explain later.”
His mouth twisted ruefully. “Touché.” He gave me a quick, hard kiss. “Watch out for Blaire. He wants you.”
I sat back. “He finds me attractive,” I corrected. “And he’s a natural-born flirt.”
Gideon’s eyes took on a dangerous gleam. “Has he been hitting on you?”
“Nothing unprofessional. If he crossed a line I’d fire him myself, but I think he probably finesses all his female clients. I bet it’s good for business.” I smiled. “He cooled his jets when I told him I was getting used to your stamina and didn’t feel like I needed a separate bed for sleep anymore.”
His brows shot up. “You didn’t.”
“I totally did. I can sleep when I’m dead, I told him. In the meantime, if my husband wants to hit it with me a half-dozen times every night and he’s as skilled as he is at doing it, who am I to complain?”
The first time we’d consulted with Blaire, I hadn’t considered what the designer would think about Gideon marrying a woman he didn’t intend to sleep with. When Blaire’s subtle flirtation registered, I realized why he might think I’d be receptive—and understood how awkward the whole situation was for my husband. Yet Gideon had never complained about how it might look to an outsider. His concern was for me, not his reputation as a world-class player.
I’d enjoyed setting Blaire straight.
I fluffed my messy hair. “I’m a blonde with big tits. Throw a giggle in there and I can usually get away with saying anything.”
“Christ.” Gideon feigned a long-suffering sigh but was clearly amused. “Is it a compulsion of yours to share the details of our sex life with everyone?”
“No.” I winked. “But it’s certainly fun.”
I didn’t go to sleep after Gideon left for work. Instead, I picked up the phone and called my trainer, Parker Smith. Since it was early, he wasn’t working yet and picked up.
“Hey, Parker. It’s Eva Tramell. How are you?”
“I’m good. You coming in today? You’re slacking lately.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I know. And yes, I’m coming in. That’s why I’m calling. I want to work on something with you.”
“Yeah? What’s on your mind?”
“We’ve gone over situational awareness and what to do if you’re cornered, how to get away. But what if I’m completely taken off guard, like when I’m sleeping?”
He absorbed that. “A hard knee shot in the balls will lay any man out. Gives you the opening you need.”
I’d done that before to Gideon, to snap him out of a vicious nightmare. I would do it again, if it came to that, but I’d prefer to break his hold and get away without hurting him. He was already hurting so much in his dreams. I didn’t want him to wake up to pain, too.
“But what if … How would you knee someone when they’re lying on top of you?”
“We can work it out. Choreograph some different scenarios.” He paused. “Everything all right?”
“Everything’s great,” I assured him, and then I lied. “It just came up on a TV show I was watching last night and I realized that no matter how prepared you are, you can’t be situationally aware when you’re sleeping.”
“No problem. I’ll be at the warehouse in a couple hours and stay until closing.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I ended the call, then headed into the shower. When I came back out, there were two missed calls from Cary. I dialed him back.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I’ve been thinking. You said something about a classic dress, right?”
I sighed. It made me cringe every time I thought about it. Because no matter how much I wanted to believe the perfect dress would fall out of the sky before the big day, it was more realistic to accept that I was going to have to settle.
Still, I had to love Cary for staying on me about it. He knew me as well as I knew myself.
“What about one of Monica’s bridal gowns?” he suggested. “Something old and all that. You two have the same build. It wouldn’t take much alteration.”
“Ugh. Really? No, Cary. If she’d married my dad in it, maybe. But I can’t wear something she wore to marry a stepdad. That’s just weird.”
He laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. She has great taste, though.”
I ran my fingers through my damp hair. “I don’t think she keeps her wedding dresses, anyway. Not a great souvenir to have hanging around your new husband’s house.”
“Okay, so it’s a stupid idea. We can hunt for something vintage. A pal of mine knows every couture and designer consignment shop in Manhattan.”
The thought had merit. “Cool. That’s a good idea.”
“Som
etimes, I’m brilliant. I’m tied up with Grey Isles today, but tonight works.”
“I have couples counseling tonight.”
“Oh, right. Have fun with that. Tomorrow? Maybe we’ll pick up a few things for Ibiza, too.”
The reminder of the weekend’s plans made me feel pressed for time. I couldn’t help being anxious about it, even knowing how much fun it would be to spend time with my friends. “Tomorrow’s good. I’ll come to the apartment.”
“Sweet. We’ll pack, too.”
We hung up and I held my phone in my hand for a long time, feeling a sense of grief. For the first time since we’d moved to New York, it felt like Cary and I were living in two separate places. I was settling into being home with Gideon, while Cary’s home was still very much the apartment.
My calendar app beeped a reminder that Blaire would be showing up in thirty minutes. Cursing to myself, I dropped my phone on the bed and hurried to get ready.
“How are you both doing?” Dr. Petersen asked, as we all three took our seats.
Gideon and I sat on the couch, as usual, while Dr. Petersen settled into his armchair and picked up his tablet.
“We’re better than ever,” I answered.
My husband said nothing, but he reached over and took my hand, pulling it over to rest on his thigh.
“I received an invitation to your reception.” Dr. Petersen smiled. “My wife and I are very much looking forward to it.”
I hadn’t been able to convince my mom to include even the tiniest bit of red on the invites, but I thought they were pretty all the same. We’d agreed on a vellum invitation, tucked into a sheer pocket, with an exterior white envelope for mailing and privacy. It gave me butterflies thinking of them being received. We were another step closer to putting the façade of an engagement behind us.
“Me, too.” I leaned my shoulder against Gideon’s and he put his arm around me.
“The last time we met,” Dr. Petersen said, “you’d just quit your job, Eva. How has that been?”
“Easier than I thought. I’ve been busy, though, so that helps.”
“Helps with what?”
I considered my answer. “From feeling aimless. I’m busier now. And I’m working on things that actually make a difference in my life.”