One of his hands left my hip, then returned to rest atop my ass. I felt the pad of his thumb, wet from his mouth, rubbing over the tight pucker of my rear.
“No,” I begged, afraid I’d lose my mind. But it wasn’t my safeword—Crossfire—and I flowered open for him, giving way under the questing pressure.
He growled as he claimed that dark place. He came over me, his other hand moving to finger my sex, to spread me and rub my pulsing clit. “Mine,” he said gruffly. “You’re mine.”
It was too much. I came with a scream, shaking violently, my hands squeaking on the glass as my sweaty palms slipped. He began pounding the ecstasy into me, his thumb in my rear an irresistible torment, his clever fingers on my clit driving me insane. One orgasm rolled into another, my sex rippling along his plunging cock.
He made a rough sound of desire and swelled inside me, chasing his climax. I gasped, “Don’t come! Not yet.”
Gideon’s tempo slowed, his breathing harsh in the darkness. “How do you want me?”
“I want to watch you.” I moaned as my core tightened again. “Want to see your face.”
He withdrew and pulled me upright. Turned and lifted me. Pressed me to the glass and thrust hard into me. In that moment of possession, he gave me what I needed. The glazed look of helpless pleasure, the instant of vulnerability before the lust seized his control.
“You want to watch me lose it,” he said hoarsely.
“Yes.” I pulled the straps from my shoulders and exposed my breasts, lifting and squeezing them, toying with my nipples. The glass was vibrating with the beat against my back; Gideon was vibrating against my front, his body barely reined.
I pressed my lips to his, absorbing his panting breaths. “Let go,” I whispered.
Holding me effortlessly, he withdrew, dragging the thick, heavy crown across the hypersensitive tissues inside me. Then he powered into me, taking me to my limits.
“Ah, God.” I writhed in his grip. “You’re so deep.”
“Eva.”
He fucked me hard, thrusting like a man possessed. I held on, trembling, spread wide for the relentless drives of his rigid penis. He was lost to instinct, the insistent desire to mate. Raw moans spilled from him, making me so hot and slick that my body offered no resistance, welcoming his desperate need.
It was rough and messy and sexy as hell. His neck arched and he gasped my name.
“Come for me,” I demanded, tightening around him, squeezing.
His whole body jerked hard, then shuddered. His mouth twisted in a grimace of agonized bliss, his eyes losing their focus as the climax built.
Gideon came with an animal roar, spurting so hard I felt it. Over and over, heating me from the inside with thick washes of semen.
My lips were all over him, my arms and legs holding tight.
He collapsed against me, his lungs heaving for breath.
Still coming.
10
THE FIRST THING I saw when I woke up Sunday morning was an amber bottle labeled HANGOVER CURE in an old-fashioned font. A raffia bow adorned the neck and a cork stopper kept the stomach-turning contents safe. The “cure” worked, as I’d learned the last time Gideon had given me the stuff, but the sight of it reminded me of how much alcohol I’d consumed the night before.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I groaned and buried my head in the pillow, willing myself back to sleep.
The bed shifted. Warm, firm lips drifted down my bare spine. “Good morning, angel mine.”
“You sound ridiculously pleased with yourself,” I muttered.
“Pleased with you, actually.”
“Fiend.”
“I was referring to your crisis management suggestions, but of course the sex was phenomenal, as always.” His hand slid beneath the sheet that was pooled around my waist and he squeezed my ass.
I lifted my head and found him propped against the headboard beside me with his laptop on his thighs. He looked mouthwatering, as usual, completely relaxed in drawstring lounging pants. I was certain I was looking far less attractive. I’d taken the limo home with the girls, then met up with Gideon at his apartment. It was nearly dawn before I’d finished with him and I’d been so tired, I crashed with hair still wet from a hasty shower.
A tingle of pleasure moved through me at finding him next to me. He’d slept in the guest room, and he had an office to work in. The fact that he chose to work in the bed I slept in meant he’d just wanted to be near me, even while I was unconscious.
I turned my head to look at the bedside clock, but my gaze snagged on my wrist instead.
“Gideon …” The watch that had been placed on my arm while I slept enchanted me. The Art Deco–inspired timepiece sparkled with hundreds of tiny diamonds. The band was a creamy satin and the mother-of-pearl face was branded with both Patek Philippe and Tiffany & Co. “It’s gorgeous.”
“There are only twenty-five of those in the world, which isn’t nearly as unique as you are, but then, what is?” He smiled down at me.
“I love it.” I pushed up onto my knees. “I love you.”
He shoved his laptop aside in time for me to straddle him and hug him tightly.
“Thank you,” I murmured, touched by his thoughtfulness. He would’ve gone out for it while I was at my mother’s or maybe just after I left with the girls.
“Umm. Tell me how to earn one of these naked hugs every day.”
“Just be you, ace.” I rubbed my cheek against his. “You’re all I need.”
I slid out of bed and padded over to the bathroom with the small amber bottle in my hand. I guzzled the contents down with a shudder, brushed my teeth and hair, and then washed my face. I pulled on a robe and returned to the bedroom, finding Gideon gone and his laptop lying open in the middle of the bed.
I passed him in his office, seeing him standing with his feet planted wide and his arms crossed, facing the window. The city stretched out in front of him. Not the skyline view he had in his Crossfire office or his penthouse, but a closer vantage. More grounded and immediate. The connection with the city more intimate.
“I don’t share your concern,” he said briskly into his earpiece mic. “I’m aware of the risk … Stop talking. The subject isn’t open to debate. Draw up the agreement as specified.”
Recognizing that all-business note of steel in his voice, I kept walking. I still wasn’t sure exactly what was in the bottle, but I suspected it was vitamins and liquor of some sort. Hair of the dog. It was warming my belly and making me feel lethargic, so I went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee.
Supplied with caffeine, I plopped down on the couch and checked my smartphone for messages. I frowned when I saw that I’d missed three calls from my dad, all before eight in the morning in California. I also noted a dozen missed calls from my mom, but I figured Monday was soon enough to deal with her again. And there was a text from Cary that shouted, CALL ME!
I called my dad back first, trying to swallow a quick drink of coffee before he answered.
“Eva.”
The anxious way my dad said my name told me something was wrong. I sat up straighter. “Dad … Is everything all right?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Nathan Barker?” His voice was hoarse and filled with pain. Goose bumps swept across my skin.
Oh, fuck. He knew. My hand shook so badly, I spilled hot coffee on my hand and thigh. I didn’t even feel it; I was so panicked by my father’s anguish. “Dad, I—”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Or Monica. My God … She should’ve said something. Should’ve told me.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I had the right to know!”
Sorrow spread through my chest like acid. My dad—a man whose self-control rivaled Gideon’s—sounded like he was crying.
I set my mug on the coffee table, my breathing fast and shallow. Nathan’s sealed juvenile records had broken open upon his death, exposing the horror of my past to anyone who had the knowledge and means to find it. As a cop, my dad had those means.
“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” I told him, stunned, but trying to hold it together for his sake. My smartphone beeped with an incoming call, but I ignored it. “Before or after.”
“I could’ve been there for you. I could’ve taken care of you.”
“Daddy, you did. Putting me together with Dr. Travis changed my life. I didn’t really start dealing with anything until then. I can’t tell you how much that helped.”
He groaned, and it was a low sound of torment. “I should’ve fought your mother for you. You should’ve been with me.”
“Oh, God.” My stomach cramped. “You can’t blame Mom. She didn’t know what was happening for a long time. And when she did find out, she did everything—”
“She didn’t tell me!” he shouted, making me jump. “She should’ve fucking told me. And how could she not know? There must’ve been signs … How could she not see them? Jesus. I saw them when you came to California.”
I sobbed, unable to contain my anguish. “I begged her not to tell you. I made her promise.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make, Eva. You were a child. She knew better.”
“I’m sorry!” I cried. The insistent, relentless beeping of an incoming call pushed me over the edge. “I’m so sorry. I just didn’t want Nathan to hurt anyone else I loved.”
“I’m coming to see you,” he said, with a sudden burst of calm. “I’m getting the next flight out. I’ll call you when I land.”
“Dad—”
“I love you, sweetheart. You’re everything.”
He hung up. Shattered, I sat there in a daze. I knew the knowledge of what had been done to me would eat my father alive, but I didn’t know how to combat that darkness.
My phone started vibrating in my hand and I just stared down at the screen, seeing my mother’s name and unable to think of what to do.
