9
“It’s …” Wincing at the detailed sketch Cary had placed in front of me, I shook my head. “It’s pretty, but it’s not … right. It’s not the right one.”
Cary heaved out his breath. From where he sat on the floor at my feet, he dropped his head back on the couch to look at me upside down. “You’re kidding. I hand you a one-of-a-kind wedding dress designed just for you and you blow it off ?”
“I don’t want a strapless dress. And this has a high-low hemline—”
“That’s a train,” he said dryly.
“Then why can I see the shoes? You shouldn’t be able to see the shoes.”
“It’s a five-minute sketch. You can tell him to make the front longer.”
Leaning forward, I grabbed the bottle of wine we’d opened earlier and added more to my glass. Journey’s greatest hits piped out through the surround sound speakers, the volume on low. The rest of the penthouse was quiet and dark¸ the living room illuminated by two end table lamps.
“It’s too … contemporary,” I complained. “Too modern.”
“Uh, yeah.” He lifted his head to look at the drawing again. “That’s what makes it cool.”
“It’s trendy, Cary. When I have kids, they’ll look at it and wonder what I was thinking.” I took a sip of my wine and ran my fingers through his thick hair. “I want something timeless. Like Grace Kelly or Jackie Kennedy.”
“Kids, huh?” He leaned into my touch, like a cat. “If you hurry up, we can push strollers through the park together and plan playdates.”
“Ha! Maybe in ten years.” That sounded about right to me. Ten years of having Gideon to myself. Time for us to both grow a little more, smooth things out and find our groove.
Things were getting better every day, but we remained a volatile couple with a tempestuous relationship. What we’d argued about earlier in his office?… I still didn’t know. That was Gideon, though. As sleek, wild, and dangerous as a wolf. Eating out of my hand one minute and snapping at it the next. Which was usually followed by fucking me like a beast, so … it worked for me.
“Yeah,” Cary said morosely. “It’ll take ten years—and immaculate conception—for you to get knocked up if you don’t start nailing him again.”
“Ugh.” I yanked on his hair. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I rocked his world last night.”
“Did you?” He leered at me over his shoulder. “That’s my girl.”
I smirked. “Going to rock it again when he gets home.”
“I’m jealous. I’m not getting any. Zip. Zero. Zilch. My palm’s going to have a permanent indentation from my lonely dick.”
Laughing, I leaned back into the sofa. “It’s good to take a break for a while. Puts things in perspective.”
“You barely made it a week,” he scoffed.
“Ten days, actually. Ten horrible, hellacious, horrendous days.” I took another drink.
“Right? Sucks. Bad.”
“I wouldn’t want to go through it again, but I’m glad we were able to take sex out of the equation for a little bit. Made us focus on talking things out and enjoying just hanging out. When we finally let loose, it was …” I licked my lips. “Explosive.”
“You’re making me hard.”
I snorted. “What doesn’t?”
He shot me an arch glance. “I will not be ashamed of my healthy sex drive.”
“Just be proud of yourself for taking some time to figure out where you’re going. I’m proud of you.”
“Aww, thanks, Mom.” He leaned his head on my knee. “You know … I could be lying to you.”
“Nope. If you were fucking around, you’d want me to know about it, because then I’d kick your ass, which is part of the fun.” Not. But it was a way he used me to punish himself.
“What’s going to be fun is Ibiza.”
“Ibiza?” It took me a second to put it together. “For my bachelorette party?”
“Yep.”
Spain. Half a world away. I hadn’t been expecting that. “How long is this party supposed to last?”
Cary flashed his million-dollar smile. “The weekend.”
“Not that he gets a say, but Gideon’s not going to like it.”
“I smoothed him out. He’s antsy about security, but he’s going to be busy himself, in Brazil.”
I sat up. “Brazil?”
“You’re like a parrot tonight, repeating everything.”
I loved Brazil. Loved the music, the weather, the passion of the people. There was a sensuality to the culture of Brazil that was unmatched in the world.
And thinking of Gideon there, with that pack of hot, rich men he called friends, celebrating the last days of a bachelorhood he’d already given up …
My best friend twisted to face me. “I know that look. You’re getting twitchy just thinking about him surrounded by Brazilian bikinis and the hot-blooded women wearing them.”
“Shut up, Cary.”
“He’s got the right crew to hit it hard, too. Especially that Manuel character. He’s a major player.”
I remembered watching Manuel Alcoa make a conquest when we’d all gone out together to a karaoke bar. Like Arnoldo, Gideon, and Arash, Manuel didn’t even have to try. He just had to pick from the wide selection of women throwing themselves at him.
What would my husband do when his friends paired off with beautiful babes? Sit by himself and nurse a caipirinha? I didn’t think so.
Gideon wouldn’t cheat. He wouldn’t even flirt; it wasn’t his style. He hadn’t even flirted with me in the beginning and I was the love of his life. No, he would dominate the room, looking dark and dangerous and untouchable, while an endless tide of gorgeous women frothed around him.
How could he possibly be unaffected by that?
Cary laughed. “You look ready to murder someone.”
“You’re closest,” I warned him.
“You can’t kill me. Who else will pack just the right outfits for you to make Gideon as jealous as you are?”
“Sounds like I came home at just the right time.”
Cary and I both looked over at the front door and found Gideon coming in with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a pet carrier dangling from his hand.
My scowl was chased away by the delight that ran through me at the sight of him. I couldn’t say how he did it, but Gideon made even sweats and a T-shirt look insanely hot.
He set his stuff down on the floor.
“What have you got there?” Cary climbed to his feet and walked over to the carrier.
I stood and went to my husband, thrilled with the simple joy of welcoming him home. He met me halfway, his arms coming around me. I pushed my hands up beneath the back of his shirt, caressing the warm, hard muscle. As he bent to kiss me, I tilted my head back. His lips brushed mine, then settled in for a soft, wordless hello.
As he straightened, he licked his lips. “You taste like wine.”
“Would you like some?”
“Absolutely.”
I headed into the kitchen to grab another glass. Behind me, I heard the guys greet each other, and then Gideon introduced Lucky to Cary. Happy barking and Cary’s rich laugh filtered through the air.
I hadn’t moved in yet, but it felt like home.
Cary had been gone an hour before I worked up the nerve to ask Gideon the burning question on my mind.
We were sitting on the couch. He slouched comfortably, knees wide, one arm slung over my shoulder, one hand lying casually on his thigh. I was curled against his side, my legs pulled up, my head on his shoulder, my fingers toying with the hem of his T-shirt. Lucky slept in the playpen by the unlighted fireplace, occasionally whimpering as he dreamed about whatever it was that dogs dreamed about.
Gideon had been quiet for the last thirty minutes, almost contemplative, as I discussed the merits of the wedding dress sketch he’d picked up from the coffee table.
“Anyway,” I said, finishing, “I feel like I’ll know it when I see it, but I’m running out of time. I’m trying not to panic about it. I just don’t want to settle.”
His hand lifted from my shoulder and cupped the back of my head. His lips pressed against my forehead. “You could wear jeans, angel, and be the most beautiful bride ever.”
Touched, I snuggled closer. I inhaled deeply, then asked, “Where in Brazil are you going?”
Gideon’s fingers sifted through my hair. “Rio.”
“Oh.” I could picture him lazing on the white sand shore of Copacabana, his magnificent sun-bronzed body on display, the brilliant blue of his eyes shielded behind dark sunglasses.
The lovely women on the beach wouldn’t be able to tell if he was watching them or not. That would excite them, make them bold.
At night, he and the guys would take in the nightlife in Ipanema or maybe they’d be true hedonists and head to Lapa. Anywhere they went, stunning, passionate, scantily clad women would follow. It was inevitable.
“I heard Cary say you’re jealous,” he murmured, nuzzling the crown of my head. There was a smug note of satisfaction in his voice.
“Is that why you picked Brazil? So I’d suffer?”
“Angel.” His grip on my hair tightened, gently urging my head back to look at him. “I had nothing to do with the selection of the destination.” His lips tilted up in a sexy smile. “But I’m glad you’ll suffer.”
“Sadist.” I pulled away from him.
Gideon wouldn’t let me get far, tugging me back. “After your suggestion about Deanna, I was beginning to think you were getting bored with me.”
“That’s hysterical.”
“Not to me,” he said evenly. His gaze searched my face.
Realizing he was at least partly serious, I stopped trying to get away. “I told you I didn’t like the idea of you hiring her.”
“Not right away you didn’t. You recommended I seduce her like you’d tell me to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home from work. At least when I mentioned Rio, you tensed up and sulked about it.”
“There’s a difference—”
“Between actively seducing a woman I’ve fucked before and agreeing to a bachelor party I didn’t plan? Absolutely. And it makes no sense why you’d be okay with the first one and have a problem with the second one.”
I glared. “Because one is a business transaction in a controlled environment. The other is a last hurrah for sport fucking in the one of the sexiest cities in the world!”
“You know better.” His voice was low and smooth, easy. Which meant it was dangerous.
“I’m not worried about you,” I stressed. “It’s the women who’ll want you. And your friends, who’ll get drunk and horny and want you to play, too.”
His face was impassive, his gaze cool. “And you think I’m not strong enough to handle the peer pressure?”
“I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I’m just trying to clarify your convoluted thinking.”
“Look. Let’s get back to the Deanna scenario.” I wriggled away and stood. Facing the coffee table, I stretched out my hands, directing. “This is how I pictured it before I made the suggestion. You in your office, leaning back against your desk in that way you do that’s sexy as hell. Jacket on the coatrack, maybe a scotch on the rocks next to your hand for an informal touch.”
I faced the couch. “Deanna’s in the chair farthest from you, so she can get the full picture. You give her a slow once-over, say a few double entendres about getting things done together. She gets ideas and seals the deal with a signature on the dotted line. That’s it. You never get closer than a few feet from her and you never sit down. The glass wall stays clear, so she won’t make a move.”
“You imagined all this in a split second?”
“Well”—I tapped my temple—“I have some memories rattling around up here that fueled the fire.”
“My memories of seduction in my office don’t include anyone else,” he said dryly.
“Listen, ace.” I sat on the coffee table. “It was a spontaneous thought that came to me because I was worried about you.”
Gideon’s face softened. “Angels rush in. I get it.”
“Do you?” Leaning forward, I put my hands on his knees. “I’m always going to be possessive, Gideon. You’re mine. I wish I could put a sign on you that says it.”
He held up his left hand, showing off his wedding band.
I scoffed. “You know how many women are going to pay attention to that when you’re trolling through Rio with your crew?”
“They’ll pay attention when I point it out.”
“Then one of the guys will let slip that it’s a bachelor party and they’ll just try harder.”
“Trying won’t get them anywhere.”
My gaze ran over him. “You’ll be irresistible in graphite gray dress slacks and a black V-neck shirt—”
“You’re remembering that night at the club.”
He obviously did, too. His cock thickened and lengthened, tenting his sweatpants obscenely.
I almost moaned as his arousal proved what I’d suspected: He was commando beneath the soft cotton.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after you left my office,” he murmured. “Couldn’t get the vision of you out of my mind. Then I called you at work and you taunted me, telling me you were going home to play with your vibrator when my cock was hard and ready for you.”
I squirmed, recalling every detail. He had been wearing a V-neck sweater that night in New York, but what I imagined him wearing in Rio made allowances for the tropical climate and the steamy press of bodies in a nightclub.
“In my mind, I saw you on your bed,” he went on, reaching between his legs to stroke his erection through his pants. “Your legs spread. Your back arching. Your body naked and shiny with sweat as you pushed a thick plastic cock in and out of your creamy cunt. I was half crazed with the idea of it. I’d never felt lust like that. It felt like I was in heat. The need to fuck was a fever inside me.”
“God, Gideon.” My sex ached. My breasts felt swollen and tender, the nipples tight and sore.
He watched me, his eyes hooded. “I went out before I arranged to meet you. I was going to find someone who wouldn’t say no like you did. I was going to take her to the hotel, spread her out, fuck her until the madness went away. Who she was didn’t matter. She was going to be faceless, nameless. I wasn’t going to look at her while I was inside her. She was just a stand-in for you.”
A low sound of pain left me, the thought of him with someone else in that way too agonizing to bear.
“I got close a couple times.” His voice was hoarser now. “Had a drink while I waited for each one to finish flirting and signal they were ready to leave. I figured I backed off the first time because she just wasn’t doing it for me. The second time, I knew no one would do it for me. No one but you. I was furious. At you for denying me. At them for being inferior. At me for being too weak to forget you.”
“That’s how I felt,” I confessed. “Every guy I met was wrong. They weren’t you.”
“It’s always going to be that way for me, Eva. Just you. Always.”
“I’m not worried about you cheating,” I reiterated, standing. I took off my tank top, then my shorts. My nude lace Carine Gilson bra and panties followed. I stripped quickly, methodically. No tease whatsoever.
Gideon lounged, watching, unmoving. Like the sex god he was, waiting to be pleasured.
Then I saw him through someone else’s eyes, my husband sitting just like that in a crowded Brazilian club, the silent demand for sex pouring off him in waves of heat and need. It was just who he was, an intensely and insatiably sexual creature. Was there a woman alive able to resist the challenge of him? I hadn’t met one yet.
I moved to him. Straddled him. My hands slid over his broad shoulders, feeling the warmth of him through the cotton of his T-shirt. His hands went to my hips, burning my skin. “The women who see you will want to do this,” I murmured. “Touch you like this. They’ll imagine it.”
Looking up at me, Gideon stroked his tongue slowly over his bottom lip. “I’ll be imagining you. Just like this.”
“That’ll only make it worse, because they’ll see how bad you want it.”
“How badly I want you,” he corrected, moving his hands to cup my ass and urge me against his erection. The lips of my sex, parted by the spread of my thighs, hugged his cock through the lace. My clit pressed against his hardness and I rolled my hips with a gasp of pleasure.
“I can see them finding the best vantage point,” I told him breathlessly, “staring at you with fuck-me eyes. Running their fingers down their cleavage so you appreciate their assets. They shift on their feet, crossing and recrossing their legs because they want this.”
I cupped his hard, thick penis and stroked it. He flexed in my palm, vitally alive and eager. His lips parted, the only break in his control.
“Your mind’s on me, so you’re hard. And if you’re sitting like this, with your legs spread, they can see how big your cock is and how ready you are to use it.”
Reaching behind me, I circled his wrist with my fingers and pulled his left arm up to drape over the low back of the sofa. “You look like this. Don’t move.” I moved his other arm to his lap. “You’ll have a tumbler in this hand, with two fingers of dark cachaça inside it. You sip it every now and then, licking it off your lips.”
I leaned forward and stroked my tongue over the sensual curve. He had a gorgeous, sexy mouth. The lips were full, but firm. They were often stern, giving little clue to his thoughts. He smiled rarely, but when he did, he could flash a boyishly playful grin or a smugly confident challenge. His slow smiles were erotic teases, while his wry half-smiles mocked both himself and others.
“You’ll seem distant and remote,” I went on. “Lost in your own thoughts. Bored by the frenetic energy and pounding music. The guys ebb and flow around you. Manuel always has a hot beauty on his lap. A different one every time you look. As far as he’s concerned, there’s more than enough of him to go around.”
Gideon smiled. “And he has a fondness for Latinas. He totally approves of my choice in wives.”
“Wife,” I corrected. “Your first and last.”
“My only,” he agreed. “Hot-tempered. Hot-blooded. My one and only permanent one-night stand. I know exactly how it will be between us, and then you go and take me by surprise. You eat me alive, every time, and want more.”
I cupped his jaw in one hand and kissed him, still stroking his penis in long, leisurely pulls. “Arash stops by with a new drink for you every time he makes his way around the room. He tells you stories about what he’s seen while circling and you briefly look amused, which drives the women watching you wild. That little flash of intimacy and warmth only makes them want more.”
“And Arnoldo?” he murmured, watching me with hot dark eyes.
“He’s detached, like you. He’s wounded and wary from his broken heart, but he’s accessible. He flirts and smiles, but there’s always that sense of something unreachable about him. The women who are too intimidated by you will go for Arnoldo. He’ll make them forget you, even while he’s forgetting about them altogether.”
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “While I sit there stewing and brooding with a perpetual hard-on, missing you so badly I can’t have any fun at all?”
“That’s the way I’m picturing it, ace.” I sat back on his rock-hard thighs. “And the women will be envisioning themselves coming up to you and sitting on your lap like I am. They’ll want to push their hands up your shirt like this.”
I slid my palms beneath the hem of his T-shirt and pressed them against the rigid lacing of his abs. My fingers followed the grooves, tracing every muscle of his eight-pack that I could reach. “They’ll fantasize about how hard your body is beneath your clothes, how your pecs will feel when they squeeze them.”
My actions accompanied my words, my heartbeat starting to race at the feel of him beneath my hands. Gideon was so cut and strong, a powerful sexual machine. There was a primitive female drive that responded instantly to that. Craved it. He was a male worthy of mating with, an alpha in his prime. Vigorous. Potent. Eminently dangerous and untamable.
He moved and I stopped. “No, stay still,” I admonished. “You wouldn’t touch them back.”
“They wouldn’t be near me at all.” But he resumed the pose I’d put him in. A sultan of old, being worshipped by an eager harem girl.
I lifted his shirt. I pulled it up and over his head, pinning his shoulders back with the hard stretch of fabric. His head turned, his mouth latching onto my nipple and suckling, easy, gentle tugs of suction on the sensitive point. I whimpered and tried to pull away, too turned on to bear it. His teeth caught the hardened tip, trapping me.
My head bowed, my eyes riveted to the sight of his hollowing cheeks. Inside the heat of his mouth, his tongue lashed my nipple, his lean throat working as he swallowed. My core tightened and trembled, echoing the rhythmic pulls.
Reaching between us, I untied the drawstring of his waistband and pushed the elastic down enough to free him. I held him in both hands, my fingertips tracing the thick pulsing veins coursing along his brutally sexy length. He was wet at the crown, my hands gliding over the slickness of pre-ejaculate.
His mouth released me when I aligned his cock with the opening to my sex. “Take it slow, angel,” he ordered gruffly. “Work it in. I’ll be in you all night and I don’t want you sore.”
Goose bumps swept over my skin. “They wouldn’t imagine taking you slow,” I argued.
Gideon reached up with both hands, pushing the hair back from my face. “You’re not thinking of other women now, angel. It’s you you’re picturing.”
With a start, I realized he was right. The woman mounting him wasn’t one of the leggy brunettes I’d visualized eye-fucking him. That was me. I was the one stroking his cock adoringly. I was the one positioning him, lowering onto him, taking a moment to rub the wide head of his penis back and forth between the lips of my sex.
My husband groaned at the feel of me, his hips lifting slightly, pushing demandingly into the entrance of my body. He grabbed my hips, pulled me down, spreading my sex open with the flared tip of his cock.
“Oh, Gideon.” My eyelids grew heavy as I sank onto him, taking a thick inch inside me.
He lifted me slightly, until just the crown was in me, then lowered me again, making me take more. The tendons in his neck stood out in stark relief. “You don’t want me wearing a sign. You want me wearing you, your tight, little cunt squeezing my cock. You imagine yourself topping me, as I just sit back and let you have it.”
He stretched his arms out along the back of the sofa, displaying that magnificently male torso. “Or do you want me to participate?”
Wetting my dry lips, I shook my head. “No.”
I pushed up, then slid back down. Over and over. Working him deeper each time, until my buttocks sat atop his thighs. He was thick and long. I whimpered softly as he throbbed inside me.
And I didn’t have all of him yet.
Tilting my head, I kissed him, savoring the slow slide of his tongue against mine.
“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.”
“Sometimes, 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.”
“Such as?”
“The wedding, of course. And moving into the penthouse, which I’m doing in baby steps. And planning some renovations, which I’d like to talk about.”
“Of course.” He studied me. “Let’s talk about those baby steps first. Is there any significance to that?”
“Well, just that I’m not doing it all at once. It’s ongoing.”
“Do you view it as a way to ease into the commitment? Previously, you’ve acted very decisively. Eloping. Separating. Quitting your job.”
That made me think. “It’s a transition that affects Gideon and Cary as much as it does me.”
“As far as I’m concerned,” Gideon interjected, “the sooner she’s moved in, the better.”
“I’m just being careful.” I shrugged.
Dr. Petersen scrawled across his tablet screen, taking notes. “Is Cary having difficulty adjusting?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He’s not acting like he is. But I worry. He falls into bad habits without support.”
“Do you have any thoughts about that, Gideon?”
He kept his tone neutral. “I knew what I was getting into when I married her.”
“Always a good thing.” Dr. Petersen smiled. “But that doesn’t tell me much.”
Gideon’s hand lifted from my shoulder and went to my hair, playing with it. “As a married man yourself, Doctor, you know there are concessions a husband makes to keep the peace. Cary is one of mine.”
That hurt me to hear, but I understood Cary had started out with a clean slate with Gideon. Then he’d made several wrong moves—like having group sex in our living room one night—that put marks against him.
Dr. Petersen looked at me. “So you’re attempting to balance the needs of both your husband and your best friend. Is that stressful?”
“It’s not fun,” I hedged, “but it’s not really balancing, either. My marriage—and Gideon—comes first.”
I could tell Gideon liked hearing that when his hand fisted gently—possessively—in my hair.
“But,” I continued, “I don’t want to overwhelm Gideon and I don’t want Cary to feel abandoned. Moving a small bag of stuff over every day makes the change gradual.”
Once the thought was out, I had to admit how maternal that sounded. Still, I couldn’t help wanting to protect those in my life who needed it, especially from pain my own actions might cause.
“You’ve mentioned everyone but you,” he pointed out. “How do you feel?”
“The penthouse is starting to feel like home. The only thing I’m struggling with is our sleeping arrangements. We’ve been sharing a bed, but Gideon wants us to sleep separately and I don’t.”
“Because of the nightmares?” Dr. Petersen asked, his gaze on Gideon.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Have you had any lately?”
My husband nodded. “Not the really bad ones.”
“What constitutes a really bad nightmare? One that you act out physically?”
Gideon’s chest expanded on a deep breath. “Yes.”
The doctor looked at me again. “You understand the risk, Eva, but you still want to share a bed with Gideon.”
“Yes, of course.” My heartbeat quickened at the memories. Gideon had pinned me down viciously, ugly words of pain and fury spilling out in terrible threats of violence.
In the grip of a nightmare, Gideon didn’t see me, he saw Hugh—a man he wanted to tear apart with his bare hands.
“Many happily married couples sleep separately,” Dr. Petersen pointed out. “The reasons are varied—the husband snores, the wife steals the covers, et cetera—but they find that sleeping apart is more conducive to marital harmony than sleeping together.”
I straightened away from Gideon, needing them both to understand. “I like sleeping next to him. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night and I watch him sleep. Sometimes, I wake up and I don’t even open my eyes, I just listen to him breathing. I can smell him, feel his warmth. I sleep better when he’s beside me. And I know he sleeps better, too.”
“Angel.” Gideon’s hand stroked my back.
Looking over my shoulder, I caught his gaze. His face was impassive. Gorgeous. His eyes, however, were dark blue pools of pain. I reached for his hand. “I know it hurts you. I’m sorry. I just need us to work toward having that. I don’t want us to ever give up on it.”
“What you describe,” Dr. Petersen said gently, “is intimacy, Eva. And it’s one of the true joys of marriage. It’s understandable that you crave it. Everyone does to some extent. For you and Gideon, however, it probably seems particularly important.”
“It does to me,” I agreed.
“Are you implying it’s different for me?” Gideon said tightly.
“No.” I twisted to face him. “Please don’t get defensive. This isn’t your fault. I’m not blaming you.”
“Do you know how shitty this makes me feel?” he accused.
“I wish you wouldn’t take it personally, Gideon. It’s—”
“My wife wants to watch me sleep and I can’t even give her that,” he snapped. “What is that, if not fucking personal?”
“Okay, let’s discuss,” Dr. Petersen said quickly, drawing our attention to him. “The root of this conversation is a craving for intimate familiarity. Human beings, by nature, desire intimacy, but childhood sexual abuse survivors can find this need especially acute.”
Gideon was still tense, but he was listening attentively.
“In many cases,” the doctor continued, “the abuser works hard to isolate the victim to help conceal their crime and make the victim dependent. The victims themselves very often withdraw from friends and family. Everyone else’s lives seem so ordinary and the troubles of others so insignificant next to the terrible secret they feel forced to hide.”
I slid back into place against Gideon’s side, pulling my knees up to hug him with the whole of my body. His arm came tight around me once more, his other hand reaching for mine.
Dr. Petersen’s face softened as he watched us. “That deep loneliness was alleviated when you both opened up to each other, but being starved of true intimacy for so long leaves a mark. I urge you to consider alternative ways to achieve the closeness you crave, Eva. Create signals and rituals that are unique to your relationship, that don’t threaten either one of you and bring you both a sense of connection.”
Sighing, I nodded.
“We’ll work on it,” he said. “And your nightmares, Gideon, are likely to continue to lessen in quantity and severity as we do. But this is just the beginning. We’ve taken some first steps in a long journey.”
Tilting my head back, I looked up at Gideon. “A lifetime,” I vowed.
Gideon touched my cheek with gentle fingers. He didn’t say the words, but I saw them in his gaze, felt them in his caress.
We had love. The rest would come.