Crossfire 01 Bared to You (31 page)

“Please, Gideon…let me come…I need to come, please.”

“Shh, angel…I’ll take care of you.”

He finished me with a tenderness that made the orgasm roll through me like a crashing wave, building and swelling and spreading through me in a warm rush of pleasure.

He threaded his fingers with mine when he came over me again, restraining my arms. The head of his cock aligned with the slick entrance of my body and he pushed inexorably into me. I moaned, shifting to accommodate the heavy surge of his penis.

Gideon’s breath gusted hard and humid against my throat, his big frame trembling as he slid carefully inside me. “You’re so soft and warm. Mine, Eva. You’re mine.”

I wrapped my legs around his hips, welcoming him deeper, feeling his buttocks flex and release against my calves as he demonstrated to my body that it would indeed take his thick length all the way to the root.

With our hands linked, he took my mouth and began to move, gliding in and out with languid skill, the tempo precise and relentless yet smooth and easy. I felt every rock-hard inch of him, felt the unmistakable reiteration that every inch of me was his to possess. He drove the message home repeatedly until I was gasping against his mouth, thrashing restlessly beneath him, my hands bloodless from the strength of my grip on his.

He spoke heated praise and encouragement, telling me how beautiful I was…how perfect I felt to him…how he’d never stop…couldn’t stop. I came with a sharp cry of relief, vibrating with the ecstasy of it, and he was right there with me. His pace quickened for several slamming thrusts; then he climaxed with a hiss of my name, spilling into me.

I sank lax into the mattress, sweaty and boneless and replete.

“I’m not done,” he whispered darkly, adjusting his knees to increase the force of his thrusts. The pace remained expertly measured, each plunge staking a claim—
your body exists to serve me.

Biting my lip, I fought back the sounds of helpless pleasure that might’ve broken the tranquility of the night…and betrayed the frightening depths of emotion I was beginning to feel for Gideon Cross.

G
ideon found me in the shower the next morning. He strode into the master bath gloriously nude, moving with that sleek confident grace I’d admired from the beginning. His hair framed his face and shoulders in a sexy disheveled mane, a look that screamed a woman had clenched the rough black silk in greedy hands. Watching the flexing of his muscles as he moved, I didn’t even pretend not to stare at the magnificent package between his legs.

Despite the heat of the water, my nipples beaded tight and goose bumps raced across my skin.

His knowing smile as he joined me told me he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on me. I retaliated by running soapy hands all over his godlike body; then sitting on the bench and sucking him off with such enthusiasm he had to support himself with both palms pressed flat against the tile.

His raw, raspy instructions echoed in my mind the entire time I dressed for work, which I did quickly—before he had a chance to finish his shower and fuck the hell out of me as he’d threatened to just before spurting fiercely down my throat.

He’d had no nightmares during the night. Sex as a sedative seemed to be working, and I was extremely grateful for that.

“I hope you don’t think you’ve gotten away,” he said when he prowled after me into the kitchen. Immaculately dressed in a black pinstriped suit, he accepted the cup of coffee I handed him and gave me a look that promised all sorts of wicked things. I saw him in his supremely civilized attire and thought of the insatiable male who’d slipped into my bed during the night. My blood quickened. I was sore, my muscles thrumming with remembered pleasure, and I was still thinking about more.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he warned, leaning casually into the counter and sipping his coffee. “See what happens.”

“I’m going to lose my job over you.”

“I’d give you another one.”

I snorted. “As what? Your sex slave?”

“What a provocative suggestion. Let’s discuss.”

“Fiend,” I muttered, rinsing out my mug in the sink and putting it in the dishwasher. “Ready? For
work
?”

He finished his coffee and I held out my hand for his mug, but he bypassed me and rinsed it out himself. Another mortal task that made him seem accessible, less of a fantasy I’d never have a chance of holding on to.

He faced me. “I want to take you out to dinner tonight, and then take you home to my bed.”

“I don’t want you to burn out on me, Gideon.” He was a man used to being alone, a man who hadn’t had a meaningful physical relationship in a long time, if ever. How long before his flight instincts kicked in? Besides, we really needed to stay out of the public eye as a couple…

“Don’t make excuses.” His features hardened. “You don’t get to decide I can’t do this.”

I kicked myself for offending him. He was trying and I needed to make sure he got credit for that, not discouragement. “That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want to crowd you. Plus we still need to—”

“Eva.” He sighed, the hard tension leaving him with that frustrated exhalation. “You have to trust me. I’m trusting you. I’ve had to or we wouldn’t be here now.”

Okay. I nodded, swallowing hard. “Dinner and your place it is, then. I honestly can’t wait.”

Gideon’s words about trust lingered in my mind all morning, which was a good thing when the Google alert digest hit my inbox.

There was more than one photo this time around. Each article and blog post had several shots of me and Cary hugging good-bye outside the restaurant where we’d had lunch the day before. The captions speculated on the nature of our relationship and some noted that we lived together. Others suggested I was reeling in “billionaire playboy Cross” while keeping my up-and-coming model boyfriend on the side.

The reason for the publicity became apparent when I saw the picture of Gideon mingled with the ones of me and Cary. It had been taken last night, while I was watching movies with Cary and Trey—and while Gideon was supposedly at a business dinner. In the photo, Gideon and Magdalene Perez smiled intimately at each other, her hand on his forearm as they stood outside a restaurant. The captions ranged between kudos for Gideon’s “bevy of beautiful socialites” to speculation that he was hiding a broken heart over my infidelity by dating other women.

You have to trust me.

I closed my inbox, my breathing too quick and my heartbeat too fast. Jealous confusion twisted my gut. I knew he couldn’t possibly have been physically intimate with another woman and I knew he cared for me. But I hated Magdalene with a passion—certainly she’d given me good reason to during our bathroom chat—and I couldn’t stand seeing her with Gideon. Couldn’t stand seeing him smiling so fondly at her, especially after the way she’d treated me.

But I put it away. I shoved it into a box in my mind and I focused on my job. Mark was meeting with Gideon tomorrow to go over the RFP for the Kingsman campaign and I was organizing the information flowing between Mark and the contributing departments.

“Hey, Eva.” Mark poked his head out of his office. “Steve and I are meeting at Bryant Park Grill for lunch. He asked if you’d come. He’d like to see you again.”

“I’d love to.” My whole afternoon brightened at the thought of enjoying lunch at one of my favorite restaurants with two really charming guys. They’d distract me from thinking about the conversation I was hours away from having with Gideon about my past.

My privacy was clearly gone. I would have to grow a set of balls and talk to Gideon before we went out to dinner. Before he was seen in public with me any further. He needed to know the risk he was taking by being associated with me.

When I received an interoffice envelope a short while later, I assumed it was a small mock-up of one of the Kingsman ads, but found a note card from Gideon instead.

Noon. My office.

“Really?” I muttered, irritated by the lack of salutation and closing. Not to mention the lack of a request. And who could forget the fact that Gideon hadn’t even mentioned running into Magdalene at dinner?

Had he invited her as his date in my stead? That’s what she was there for, after all. To be one of the women he socialized with outside of his hotel room.

I flipped Gideon’s card over and wrote the same number of words with no signature:

Sorry. Have plans.

A bratty reply, but he deserved it. When a quarter to noon rolled around, Mark and I headed down to the ground floor. When I was stopped by security and the guard called up to Gideon to tell him I was in the lobby, my irritation kicked into a temper.

“Let’s go,” I said to Mark, striding toward the revolving door and ignoring the pleas of the security guard to wait a moment. I felt bad putting him in the middle.

I saw Angus and the Bentley at the curb at the same moment I heard Gideon snap out my name like a whipcrack behind me. I faced him as he joined us on the sidewalk with his face impassive and his gaze icy.

“I’m going to lunch with my boss,” I told him, my chin lifting.

“Where are you headed, Garrity?” Gideon asked without taking his eyes off me.

“Bryant Park Grill.”