by Sylvia Day
“All right, then,” he said smoothly. “I’ve got a surprise for you when you get home.”
“Oh?” My mood instantly brightened. “Will you give me a hint?”
“Of course not. You’ll have to hurry home if you’re curious.”
I pouted. “Tease.”
“Teases don’t deliver. I do.”
My toes curled at the rough velvet of his voice. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“I’ll be waiting,” he purred.
—
THE traffic near the fair was impossible. Raúl left the Benz in the garage beneath my apartment building, then walked me over to the street fair.
When we were half a block away, I started smelling the food and my mouth watered. Music drifted in the air and when we reached Amsterdam Avenue, I saw that it came from a woman singing on a small stage for a packed audience.
Vendors lined either side of the overflowing street, their wares and heads shielded from the sun by white tent tops. From scarves and hats, to jewelry and art, to fresh produce and multinational eats, there was nothing one could want that couldn’t be found.
It took me a few minutes to spot Trey in the crowd. I found him sitting on steps not too far from the corner we’d agreed upon. He was dressed in loose jeans and an olive-hued T-shirt, with sunglasses perched on the crooked bridge of his once-broken nose. His blond hair was as unruly as ever, his attractive mouth tightened into a firm line.
He stood when he saw me, holding out his hand for me to shake. I pulled him into a hug instead, holding him until I felt him relax and hug me back. Life flowed by around us—New Yorkers were comfortable with all sorts of public displays. Raúl moved a discreet distance away.
“I’m a fucking mess,” Trey muttered against my shoulder.
“You’re normal.” I pulled back and gestured toward the steps where I’d found him. “Anyone would be reeling right now.”
He sat down on the middle step. I perched next to him.
“I don’t think I can do this, Eva. I don’t think I should. I want someone in my life full-time, someone who’s there to support me while I get through school, then try to build my practice. Cary’s going to be supporting that model instead and fitting me in when he can. How am I not going to resent that?”
“That’s a valid question,” I said, stretching out my legs in front of me. “You know Cary won’t be sure the baby is his until a paternity test is done.”
Trey shook his head. “I don’t think it’ll matter. He seems invested.”
“I think it’ll matter. Maybe he won’t just walk away, maybe he’ll play uncle or something. I don’t know. For now, we have to go with the assumption that he’s the dad, but maybe he’s not. It’s a possibility.”
“So you’re telling me to hang in there for another six months?”
“No. If you want me to give you answers, I don’t have any. All I can tell you for sure is that Cary loves you, more than I’ve ever seen him love anyone. If he loses you, it’s going to break him. I’m not trying to guilt you into staying with him. I just think you should know that if you leave, you’re not the only one who’ll be hurting.”
“How is that helpful?”
“Maybe it’s not.” I set my hand on his knee. “Maybe I’m just small enough to find that comforting. If Gideon and I didn’t work out, I’d want to know he was as miserable as I was.”
Trey’s mouth curved in a sad smile. “Yeah, I see your point. Would you stay with him if you found out he’d knocked someone else up? Someone he was sleeping with while dating you?”
“I thought about that. It’s hard for me to imagine not being with Gideon. If we weren’t exclusive at the time and the woman was in his past, if he was with me and not her, maybe I could handle it.”
I watched a woman hang yet another bag of purchases onto the overburdened handle of her kid’s stroller. “But if he was mostly with her and seeing me on the side . . . I think I’d walk.”
It was tough being honest when the truth was the opposite of what Cary would want me to say, but I felt like it was the right thing to do.
“Thanks, Eva.”
“For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t think less of you if you toughed it out with Cary. It’s not weak to stand by the person you love when they’re trying to fix a big mistake, and it’s not weak to decide to put yourself first. Whatever decision you make, I’ll still think you’re a helluva guy.”
Leaning into me, he rested his head on my shoulder. “Thanks, Eva.”
I linked my fingers with his. “You’re welcome.”
—
“I’LL go get the car and pull it around,” Raúl said, as we entered the lobby of my apartment building.
“Okay. I’m just going to check the mail.” I waved at the concierge as we passed the desk. I turned into the mailroom, while Raúl headed to the elevator.
Sliding my key into the lock, I pulled the brass door open and bent low to peer inside. There were a few postcard advertisements and nothing else, which saved me a trip upstairs. I slid them out, tossed them in the nearby trash can, then shut and locked the mailbox.
I headed back into the lobby just in time to catch a woman exiting the building. Her spiky red hair caught my attention and held it. I stared hard, waiting for her to turn onto the street, hoping I’d catch a glimpse of her profile.
My breath caught. The hair was familiar from a Google image search. The face I remembered from the shelter fund-raiser Gideon and I had attended a few weeks back.
Then she was gone.
I ran after her, but when I reached the sidewalk she was already sliding into the back of a black town car.
“Hey!” I shouted.
The car sped off, leaving me staring after it.
“Everything all right?”
I turned to face Louie, the weekend doorman. “Do you know who that was?”
He shook his head. “She doesn’t live here.”
Going back inside, I asked the concierge the same question.
“A redhead?” she asked, looking perplexed. “We haven’t had any visitors who came in without a tenant today, so I haven’t really paid attention.”
“Hmm. Okay, thank you.”
“Your car’s here, Eva,” Louie said from the doorway.
I thanked the concierge and headed out to Raúl. I spent the ride between my place and Gideon’s thinking about Anne Lucas. By the time I stepped out of the private elevator into the foyer of the penthouse, my spinning thoughts had me distracted.
Gideon was waiting for me. Dressed in worn jeans and a Columbia T-shirt, he looked so young and handsome. Then he flashed me a smile and I almost forgot the world altogether.
“Angel,” he purred, crossing the black-and-white checkerboard flooring on bare feet. He had that look in his eye I knew well. “Come here.”
I walked right into his open arms, cuddling up tightly to his hard body. I breathed him in. “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” I mumbled against his chest, “but I could swear I just saw Anne Lucas in the lobby of my building.”
He stiffened. I knew the shrink wasn’t his favorite person.
“When?” he asked tightly.
“Twenty minutes ago, maybe. Right before I came over here.”
Releasing me, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his smartphone. His other hand caught mine and pulled me into the living room.
“Mrs. Cross just saw Anne Lucas in her apartment building,” he said to whoever answered.
“I think I did,” I corrected, frowning at his hard tone.
But he wasn’t listening to me. “Find out,” he ordered, before hanging up.
“Gideon. What’s going on?”
He led us to the couch and sat. I settled next to him, putting my purse down on the coffee table.
“I saw Anne the other day,” he explained, holding on to my hand. “Raúl confirmed that the woman who spoke to you at the fund-raiser was her. She admitted it, and I warned her to stay away from y
ou, but she won’t. She wants to hurt me and she knows she can do that if she hurts you.”
“Okay.” I processed that.
“You need to tell Raúl the moment you see her anywhere. Even if you just think it’s her.”
“Hold on a minute, ace. You went to see her the other day and didn’t tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then?”
He exhaled roughly. “It was the day Chris came over.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
I gnawed on my lower lip a minute. “How would she hurt me?”
“I don’t know. It’s enough for me that she wants to.”
“Like would she break my leg? My nose?”
“I doubt she’d resort to violence,” he said dryly. “It would be more fun for her to play mind games. Showing up where you are. Letting you catch glimpses of her.”
Which was more insidious. “So that you’ll go to her. That’s what she really wants,” I muttered. “She wants to see you.”
“I won’t be obliging her. I said what I needed to.”
Looking down at our joined hands, I played with his wedding band. “Anne, Corinne, Deanna . . . It’s a bit crazy, Gideon. I mean, I don’t think this is normal for most men. How many more women are going to lose their minds over you?”
He shot me a look that was patently not amused. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Corinne. None of what she’s done since she returned to New York is like her. I don’t know if it’s the medication she was on, the miscarriage, her divorce . . .”
“She’s getting divorced?”
“Don’t take that tone, Eva. It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me if she’s married or single. I’m married. That’s never going to change, and I’m not a man who cheats. I have more respect for you—and me—than to be that kind of husband.”
I leaned forward, offering my mouth, and he took it in a soft, sweet kiss. He had said exactly what I needed to hear.
Gideon pulled back, nuzzling his nose against mine. “As for the other two . . . You have to understand that Deanna was collateral damage. Fuck. My entire life has been a war zone and some people have gotten caught in the line of fire.”
I cupped his jaw, trying to stroke the tension away with soothing brushes of my thumb. I knew just what he meant.
He swallowed hard. “If I hadn’t used Deanna to send a message to Anne that the door was closed between us, she would’ve been just a one-night stand. Over and done with.”
“But she’s okay now?”
“I think so.” His fingertips brushed my cheek, the touch reflecting the one I’d given him. “Since I’m sharing, I’ll say that I don’t think she’d turn me down if I tried to hook up—which I won’t—but I don’t think she falls in the woman-scorned category any longer.”
“Yeah, I knew she’d hit the sheets with you again if she could. Not that I blame her. Do you have to be so damn good in bed? Isn’t it enough that you’re hot, and have an amazing body and a huge cock?”
He shook his head, clearly exasperated. “It’s not huge.”
“Whatever. You’re hung. And you know how to use it. And women don’t get awesome sex very often, so when we do, we can go a little nuts over it. I guess that answers my question about Anne, since she had you repeatedly.”
“She never had me.” Gideon sat back, slouching. Scowling. “At some point you’re going to get sick of hearing what an asshole I am.”
I curled into his side, resting my head on his shoulder. “You’re not the first insanely hot guy on the planet to use women. And you won’t be the last.”
“It was different with Anne,” he grumbled. “It wasn’t just about her husband.”
I stilled, then forced myself to relax so that I didn’t make him any more nervous than he already was.
He sucked in a quick, deep breath. “She reminds me of Hugh sometimes,” he said in a rush. “The way she moves, some of the things she says . . . There’s a familial resemblance. And more. I can’t explain it.”
“Then don’t.”
“Sometimes the line between them blurred in my mind. It was like I was punishing Hugh through Anne. I did things to her I’ve never done with anyone else. Things that made me feel sick when I thought about them later.”
“Gideon.” I slid my arm around his waist.
He hadn’t told me this. He’d said before that it was Dr. Terrence Lucas he was punishing, and I was sure that was part of it. But now I knew it wasn’t all of it.
Gideon sat back. “It was twisted between Anne and me. I twisted her. If I could go back and do things differently—”
“We’ll deal with it. I’m glad you told me.”
“Had to. Listen, angel, you need to tell Raúl the moment you see her anywhere. Even if you’re not sure. And don’t go anywhere alone. I’ll figure out how to deal with her. In the meantime, I need to know that you’re safe.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure how that plan would work over the long haul. We lived in the same city with the woman and her husband, and Lucas himself had approached me before. They were a problem and we needed a solution.
But we weren’t going to come up with it today. Saturday. One of the two days of the week I most looked forward to because I got to spend so much private time with my husband.
“So,” I began, sliding my hand up beneath Gideon’s shirt to touch his warm skin. “Where’s my surprise?”
“Well . . .” The sexy rasp in his voice deepened. “Let’s wait a bit before that. How about we start with some wine?”
Tilting my head back, I looked up at him. “Are you trying to seduce me, ace?”
He kissed my nose. “Always.”
“Umm . . . Go right ahead.”
—
I knew something was up when Gideon didn’t join me in the shower. The only time he missed an opportunity to put his hands on me while drenched and dripping was in the mornings, after he’d already had his way with me.
When I came back out to the living room dressed in shorts and tank top sans bra, he was waiting for me with a glass of red wine. We settled on the couch with 3 Days to Kill, which only proved to me that my husband knew me well. It was just the sort of movie I enjoyed—a bit funny, a lot over-the-top. And it had Kevin Costner, who was always a win for me.
Still, as much fun as I had just being lazy with Gideon, the anticipation started to make me twitchy as the hours passed. And Gideon, the devious man, knew it. He built on it. He kept my wineglass full and his hands on me—tangled in my hair, brushing over my shoulder, running along my thigh.
By nine o’clock, I was crawling all over him. I slid into his lap and pressed my lips to his throat, my tongue darting out to stroke over his pulse. I felt it leap, then accelerate, but he made no move in response. He sat as if absorbed in the rerun we’d channel-surfed to after the movie ended.
“Gideon?” I whispered in my fuck-me voice, my hand sliding between his legs to find him as hard and ready as always.
“Hmm?”
I caught the lobe of his ear in my teeth, tugging gently. “Would you mind if I fucked myself on your big cock while you’re watching TV?”
His hand rubbed absently down my back. “I might not be able to see around you,” he replied, sounding distracted. “Maybe you better get on your knees and suck it instead.”
Pulling back, I gaped at him. His eyes laughed at me.
I shoved at his shoulder. “You’re terrible!”
“My poor angel,” he crooned. “Are you horny?”
“What do you think?” I gestured at my chest. My nipples were hard and tight, straining against the thin cotton in a silent demand for his attention.
Cupping my shoulders, he pulled me closer and caught the tip of my breast in his teeth, his tongue stroking softly. I moaned.
He released me, his eyes now so dark they were like sapphires. “Are you wet?”
I was getting there, fast. Whenever Gideon looked a
t me like that, my body softened for him, grew moist and eager. “Why don’t you find out?” I teased.
“Show me.”
The authoritative bite in his command made me hotter. I slid off him carefully, feeling inexplicably shy. He pushed the coffee table back with one foot, giving me more room to stand in front of him. His gaze slid over me, his face expressionless. The lack of encouragement made me even more anxious, which I guessed was his intention.
He was pushing in that way he had.
Rolling my shoulders back, I caught his gaze with my own and ran my tongue along my bottom lip. His eyes became heavy-lidded. I slid my thumbs beneath the elastic waistband of my athletic shorts and pushed them down, wriggling my hips a little to make it look more like a striptease and less like I was feeling awkward.
“No panties,” he murmured, his gaze on my sex. “You’re a bad girl, angel.”
I pouted. “I’m trying to be good.”
“Open yourself for me,” he murmured. “Let me see you.”
“Gideon . . .”
He waited patiently and I knew that patience would hold. Whether it took me five minutes or five hours, he would wait for me. And that was why I trusted him. Because it was never a question of whether I would submit, but when I was ready to, and that was a decision he most often left to me.
I widened my stance and tried to slow the quickness of my breathing. Reaching down with both hands, I touched the lips of my sex and spread them, exposing my clit to the man it ached for.
Gideon straightened slowly. “You have such a pretty cunt, Eva.”
As he leaned closer, I held my breath. His hands lifted from his thighs, reaching for mine to hold me steady. “Don’t move,” he ordered.
Then he licked me in a leisurely glide.
“Oh God,” I moaned, my legs shaking.
“Sit down,” he said hoarsely, sliding to his knees on the floor as I obeyed.
The glass was cool against my bare buttocks, a sharp contrast to the heat of my skin. My arms stretched back, gripping the far edge of the table for balance as he pressed my thighs wide with his palms, splaying me open.
His breath was hot against my damp flesh, his focus fully on my sex. “You could be wetter.”