by Sylvia Day
“Don’t touch me,” he whispered harshly. “Get your fucking hands off of me!”
I froze, my heart racing. His words sliced through the dark, filled with fury.
“You sick bastard.” He writhed, his legs kicking at the covers. His back arched on a groan that sounded perversely erotic. “Don’t. Ah, Christ…It hurts.”
He strained, his body twisting. I couldn’t bear it.
“Gideon.” Because Cary had nightmares sometimes, I knew better than to touch a man in the throes of one. Instead, I knelt on my side of the bed and called his name. “Gideon, wake up.”
Stilling abruptly, he fell to his back, tense and expectant. His chest heaved with panting breaths. His cock was hard and lay heavily along his belly.
I spoke firmly, although my heart was breaking. “Gideon. You’re dreaming. Come back to me.”
He deflated into the mattress. “Eva…?”
“I’m here.” Shifting, I moved out of the way of the moonlight, but saw no luminous glitter that would tell me his eyes were open. “Are you awake?”
His breathing began to slow, but he didn’t speak. His hands were fisted in the bottom sheet. I pulled the shirt I was wearing over my head and dropped it on the bed. I sidled closer, reaching out with a tentative hand to touch his arm. When he didn’t move, I caressed him, my fingertips sliding gently over the hard muscle of his biceps.
“Gideon?”
He jerked awake. “What? What is it?”
I sat back on my heels with my hands on my thighs. I saw him blink at me, and then shove both hands through his hair. I could feel the nightmare clinging to him, could sense it in the rigidness of his body.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gruffly, pushing up onto one elbow. “You okay?”
“I want you.” I stretched out against him, aligning my bare body to his. Pressing my face into his damp throat, I sucked gently on his salty skin. I knew from my own nightmares that being held and loved could push the specters back into the closet for a little while.
His arms came around me, his hands running up and down the curve of my spine. I felt him let go of the dream with a long, deep sigh.
Pushing him to his back, I climbed over him and sealed my mouth over his. His erection was notched between the lips of my sex and I rocked against him. The feel of his hands in my hair, holding me to take control of the kiss, quickly made me wet and ready. Fire licked just beneath my skin. I stroked my clit up and down his thick length, using him to masturbate until he made a rough sound of desire and rolled to put me beneath him.
“I don’t have any condoms in the house,” he murmured before wrapping his lips around my nipple and sucking gently.
I loved that he wasn’t prepared. This wasn’t his fuck pad; this was his home and I was the only lover he’d brought into it. “I know you mentioned swapping bills of health when we talked about birth control and that’s the responsible way to go, but—”
“I trust you.” He lifted his head, looking at me in the faint light of the moon. Kneeing my legs open, he pushed the first bare inch inside me. He was scorching hot and silky soft.
“Eva,” he breathed, clutching me tightly to him. “I’ve never…Christ, you feel so good. I’m so glad you’re here.”
I tugged his lips down to mine and kissed him. “Me, too.”
I woke the way I’d fallen asleep, with Gideon on top of me and inside me. His gaze was heavy-lidded with desire as I rose from unconsciousness into heated pleasure. His hair hung around his shoulders and face, looking even sexier for being sleep-tousled. But best of all, there were no shadows in his gorgeous eyes, nothing lingering from the pain that haunted his dreams.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he murmured with a wicked grin, sliding in and out. “You’re warm and soft. I can’t help but want you.”
I stretched my arms over my head and arched my back, pressing my breasts into his chest. Through the slender arch-topped windows, I saw the soft light of dawn fill the sky. “Umm…I could get used to waking up like this.”
“That was my thought at three this morning.” He rolled his hips and sank deep into me. “I thought I’d return the favor.”
My body revved to life, my pulse quickening. “Yes, please.”
Cary was gone when we got to my apartment, leaving a note behind to tell me he was on a job, but would be back in plenty of time for pizza with Trey. Since I’d been too upset to enjoy my pie the night before, I was ready to try again when I was having a good time.
“I have a business dinner tonight,” Gideon said, leaning over my shoulder to read. “I was hoping you’d come with me and make it bearable.”
“I can’t bail out on Cary,” I said apologetically, turning to face him. “Chicks before dicks and all that.”
His mouth twitched and he caged me to the breakfast bar. He was dressed for work in a suit I’d picked out, a graphite gray Prada with a soft sheen. His tie was the blue one that matched his eyes, and as I’d lain on his bed and watched him dress, I’d had to fight the urge to take it all off him. “Cary isn’t a chick. But I get the point. I want to see you tonight. Can I come over after the dinner and stay the night?”
Heated anticipation rushed through me. I smoothed my hands over his vest, feeling like I had a special secret because I knew exactly what he looked like without his clothes on. “I’d love it if you did.”
“Good.” He gave a satisfied nod. “I’ll make us coffee, while you get dressed.”
“The beans are in the freezer. The grinder’s next to the coffee pot.” I pointed. “And I like lots of milk and a little sweetener.”
When I came out twenty minutes later, Gideon grabbed two travel mugs of coffee off the breakfast bar and we headed down to the lobby. Paul hustled us out the front door and into the backseat of Gideon’s waiting Bentley SUV.
As Gideon’s driver pulled into traffic, Gideon checked me out and said, “You’re definitely trying to kill me. Are you wearing the garters again?”
Pulling the hem of my skirt up, I showed him where the top of my black silk stockings hooked to my black lace garter belt.
His muttered curse made me smile. I’d chosen a black short-sleeved silk turtleneck sweater paired with a decently short pleated skirt in lipstick red and heeled Mary Janes. Because Cary hadn’t been around to manage something fancy with my hair, I’d pulled it back in a ponytail. “You like?”
“I’m hard.” His voice was husky, and he adjusted himself in his trousers. “How the hell am I going to get through the day thinking about you dressed like that?”
“There’s always lunch,” I suggested, fantasizing about a nooner on Gideon’s office couch.
“I have a business lunch today. I’d reschedule, if I hadn’t moved it already yesterday.”
“You rescheduled an appointment for me? I’m flattered.”
He reached over and brushed his fingertips over my cheek, a now-habitual gesture of affection that was tender and fiercely intimate. I was coming to depend on receiving those touches.
I leaned my cheek into his palm. “Can you carve fifteen minutes out of your day for me?”
“I’ll manage it.”
“Call me when you know the time.”
Taking a deep breath, I dug into my bag and wrapped my hand around a gift I wasn’t sure he’d want, but I couldn’t get the memory of his nightmare out of my head. I hoped that what I had for him would remind him of me and three A.M. sex, and help him cope. “I have something. I thought…”
It suddenly seemed conceited to give him what I’d brought.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just…” I exhaled in a rush. “Listen, I have something for you, but I just realized it’s one of those gifts—well, it’s not really a gift. I’m already thinking it’s not appropriate and—”
He thrust out his hand. “Give it to me.”
“You can totally decide not to take it—”
“Shut up, Eva.” He crooked his fingers. “Give it
to me.”
I pulled it out of my bag and handed it over.
Gideon stared down at the framed photograph in complete silence. It was a novelty frame depicting die-cut images of things relating to graduation, including a digital clock face that read 3:00 A.M. The picture was of me posing on Coronado Beach in a coral bikini with a big floppy straw hat—I was tanned, happy, and blowing a kiss to Cary, who’d playacted the role of a high-fashion photographer by calling out ridiculous encouragements. Beautiful, dahling. Show me sassy. Show me sexy. Brilliant. Show me catty…rawr…
Embarrassed, I squirmed a little on the seat. “Like I said, you don’t have to keep—”
“I—” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Eva.”
“Ah, well…” I was grateful to see the Crossfire outside my window. I jumped out quickly when the driver pulled over and ran my hands over my skirt, feeling self-conscious. “If you want, I can hang on to it until later.”
Gideon shut the door of the Bentley and shook his head. “It’s mine. You’re not taking it back.”
He linked our fingers together and gestured toward the revolving door with the hand holding the frame. I warmed when I realized he intended to take my picture into work with him.
One of the fun things about the ad business was that no day was ever the same as the one before it. I was hopping all morning and was just beginning to contemplate what to do about lunch when my phone rang. “Mark Garrity’s office, Eva Tramell speaking.”
“I’ve got news,” Cary said by way of greeting.
“What?” I could tell by his voice that it was good news, whatever it was.
“I landed a Grey Isles campaign.”
“Oh my God! Cary, that’s awesome! I love their jeans.”
“What are you doing for lunch?”
I grinned. “Celebrating with you. Can you be here at noon?”
“I’m already on my way.”
I hung up and rocked back in my chair, so thrilled for Cary I felt like dancing. Needing something to do to kill the fifteen minutes remaining before my lunch break, I checked my inbox again and found a Google alert digest for Gideon’s name. Over thirty mentions, in just one day.
I opened the e-mail and freaked out a little at the numerous “mystery woman” headlines. I clicked on the first link and found myself landing on a gossip blog.
There, in living color, was a photo of Gideon kissing me senseless on the sidewalk outside of his gym. The accompanying article was short and to the point:
“Gideon Cross, New York’s most eligible bachelor since John F. Kennedy Jr., was spotted yesterday in a passionate public embrace. A source at Cross Industries identified the lucky mystery woman as socialite Eva Tramell, daughter of multimillionaire Richard Stanton and his wife, Monica. When queried about the nature of the relationship between Cross and Tramell, the source confirmed that Miss Tramell is ‘the significant woman’ in the mogul’s life at present. We imagine hearts are breaking across the country this morning.”
“Oh, crap,” I breathed.
I quickly clicked through other links in the digest to find the same picture with similar captions and articles. Alarmed, I sat back and thought about what this meant. If one kiss was headline news, what chance would Gideon and I have to make a relationship work?
My hands weren’t quite steady as I closed the browser tabs. I hadn’t considered the press coverage, but I should have. “Damn it.”
Anonymity was my friend. It protected me from my past. It protected my family from embarrassment, and Gideon, too. I didn’t even have any social networking accounts so people who weren’t actively in my life couldn’t find me.
A thin, invisible wall between me and exposure was gone.
“Hell,” I breathed, finding myself in a painful situation I could have avoided if I’d dedicated any of my brain cells to something other than Gideon.
There was also his reaction to this mess to consider…I cringed inwardly just thinking about it. And my mother. It wouldn’t be long before she was calling and blowing everything out of—
“Shit.” Remembering that she didn’t have my new cell number, I picked up my desk phone and called my other voice mail to see if she’d already tried to reach me. I winced when I heard that my mailbox was full.
I hung up and grabbed my purse; then headed off to lunch, knowing Cary would help me put it all in perspective. I was so flustered when I reached the lobby level that I rushed out of the elevator with my only thought being to find my roommate. When I spotted him, I didn’t take note of anyone else until Gideon sidestepped smoothly in front of me and blocked my path.
“Eva.” He frowned down at me. Cupping my elbow, he turned me slightly around. That’s when I saw the two women and a man who’d hidden him from my view.
I managed to find a smile for them. “Hello.”
Gideon introduced me to his lunch dates. Then he excused us and tugged me off to the side. “What’s wrong? You’re upset.”
“It’s all over the place,” I whispered. “A picture of us together.”
He nodded. “I’ve seen it.”
I blinked up at him, confused at his nonchalance. “You’re okay with it?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? For once, they’re reporting the truth.”
A sneaking suspicion niggled at me. “You planned it. You planted the story.”
“Not entirely true,” he said smoothly. “The photographer happened to be there. I just gave him a picture worth printing, and told PR to make it clear who you are and what you are to me.”
“Why? Why would you do that?”
“You have your way of dealing with jealousy and I have mine. We’re both off the market and now everyone knows it. Why is that a problem for you?”
“I was worried about your reaction, but there’s more…There are things you don’t know and I—” I took a deep, shaky breath. “It can’t be that way between us, Gideon. We can’t be public. I don’t want—Damn it. I’ll embarrass you.”
“You couldn’t. It’s not possible.” He brushed a loose lock of hair off my face. “Can we talk about this later? If you need me—”
“No, it’s okay. Go.”
Cary came over. Dressed in baggy black cargo pants and a V-neck white undershirt, he still managed to look expensive. “Everything all right?”
“Hi, Cary. Everything’s fine.” Gideon squeezed my hand. “Enjoy your lunch and don’t worry.”
He could say that because he didn’t know better.
And I didn’t know whether or not he’d still want me once he did.
Cary faced me as Gideon walked away. “Worry about what? What’s wrong?”
“Everything.” I sighed. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll tell you over lunch.”
“Well,” Cary murmured, looking at the link I’d forwarded from my smartphone to his. “That’s some kiss. The dip was a great touch. He couldn’t look more into if he tried.”
“That’s the thing.” I took another big gulp of water. “He did try.”
He shoved his phone into his pocket. “Last week you kept shooting him down for only wanting your vagina. This week he’s publicizing that he’s in a committed, passionate relationship with you, and you’re still unhappy. I’m starting to feel bad for the guy. He can’t win for trying.”
That stung. “Reporters are going to dig, Cary, and they’re going to find dirt. And since it’s juicy dirt they’re going to splash it all over hell and back, and it’s going to embarrass Gideon.”
“Baby girl.” He set his hand over mine. “Stanton buried all that.”
Stanton. I straightened. I hadn’t thought of my stepfather. He’d see the disaster coming and keep a lid on it because he knew what the revelation would do to my mother. Still…“I’ll have to talk to Gideon about it. He has a right to be warned.”
Just the thought of that conversation made me miserable.
Cary knew how my brain worked. “If you think he’s going to cut and run, I think you’re wrong. He looks
at you like you’re the only person in the room.”
I poked at my tuna Caesar salad. “He’s got a few demons of his own. Nightmares. He’s closed himself off, I think, because of whatever’s eating at him.”
“But he’s let you in.”
And he’d already shown hints of how possessive he could be about that connection. I accepted that because it was a flaw I shared, but still…
“You’re analyzing this to death, Eva,” Cary said. “You’re thinking the way he feels about you has to be a fluke or a mistake. Someone like him couldn’t really be into you for your big heart and sharp mind, right?”
“My self-esteem isn’t that bad,” I protested.
He took a sip of his champagne. “Isn’t it? So tell me something you think he likes about you that doesn’t have to do with sex or codependency.”
I thought about it and came up empty, which made me scowl.
“Right,” he went on with a nod. “And if Cross is anywhere near as messed up as we are, he’s thinking the same thing in reverse, wondering what a hot babe like you sees in a guy like him. You’ve got money, so what has he got going for him besides being a stud who keeps screwing up?”
Sitting back in my chair, I absorbed everything he’d said. “Cary, I love you madly.”
He grinned. “Back atcha, sweets. My advice, for what it’s worth? Couples therapy. It’s always been my plan to get into it when I find the one I want to settle down with. And try to have fun with him. You’ve got to have as many good times as bad or it all becomes too painful and too much work.”
I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He shrugged off my gratitude with an elegant wave of his hand. “It’s easy to pick apart someone else’s life. You know I couldn’t get through my rough spots without you.”
“Which you don’t have any of now,” I pointed out, shifting the focus to him. “You’re about to be splashed across a Times Square billboard. You won’t be my secret any longer. Should we upgrade dinner from pizza to something more worthy of the occasion? How about we haul out that case of Cristal Stanton gave us?”