7
My hand shook as I poured freshly brewed coffee into three mugs. I couldn’t tell if that was because I was so pissed off or because I was afraid. Certainly, I was both. Being a cop’s daughter, I understood the unwritten rules followed by those who worked behind the blue wall of law enforcement. And after everything Gideon and I had been through regarding Nathan’s death, I was doubly on my guard now.
But it wasn’t Detectives Graves and Michna of the homicide division who wanted to speak to me. I couldn’t decide if that made me more or less anxious. They were the devil I knew, so to speak. And while I wouldn’t go so far as to call Shelley Graves an ally, she’d dropped the case when she still had questions without answers.
This time around, it was Officers Peña and Williams who had shown up on our doorstep.
And it was Anne Lucas who sent them my way. That fucking bitch.
I’d had to cut my appointment with Blaire Ash short, knowing it was unavoidable that the designer would pass the officers in the lobby when he exited the private elevator. I didn’t have time to worry about what he’d make of that. Instead, I took the brief time alone to call Raúl and tell him to find Arash Madani. I wanted to call Gideon, but he was with Dr. Petersen and I considered that more important. I could handle the police. I knew the basics: Have an attorney present and be succinct. Don’t elaborate or offer information not asked for.
Setting the three mugs of coffee on a serving tray, I searched for something to pour the half-and-half into.
“You don’t have to go to any trouble, Ms. Tramell,” Officer Peña said as he and his partner entered the kitchen with their hats tucked under their arms.
Peña had a baby face that made him look younger than he probably was, which I guessed was close to my age. Williams was a petite, curvy black woman, with sharp cop eyes that told me she’d seen things I would never want to.
I’d asked them to wait in the living room and they had followed me instead. That made me feel hunted, which I’m sure was part of their intention.
“It’s no trouble.” I gave up trying to be classy about the half-and-half and just set the carton on the island. “And I’m waiting for my attorney to arrive, so there’s really not much else for me to do in the meantime.”
Officer Williams eyed me coolly, as if she were wondering why I felt the need for counsel.
I didn’t have to justify myself but knew it wouldn’t hurt to let them know why I was cautious. “My dad’s on the job in California. He’d chew me out if I didn’t follow his advice.”
I grabbed the box of sugar I’d dug out of the pantry and set it on the tray before moving it all over to the island.
“Where in California?” Peña asked, grabbing a mug and taking his coffee black.
“Oceanside.”
“San Diego area, right? Nice.”
“It is, yes.”
Williams took her coffee with a splash of half-and-half and a whole lot of sugar, which she poured straight from the box. “Is Mr. Cross here?”
“He’s in a meeting.”
She kept her gaze on me as she lifted her mug to her lips. “Who was the guy leaving when we came up?”
The deliberate casualness of her tone made me glad I’d sent word to Arash. I didn’t believe for a minute that the question was just small talk. “Blaire Ash. He’s the interior designer working on some renovations we’re doing.”
“You live here?” Peña asked. “We stopped by an apartment on the Upper West Side we heard was yours.”
“I’m in the process of moving in.”
He leaned into the island and looked around. “Nice place.”
“I think so, too.”
Williams caught my eye. “Have you been dating Gideon Cross long?”
“She’s married to me, actually,” Gideon said, appearing in the doorway.
Peña straightened, swallowing quickly. Williams set her mug down with enough force to spill some coffee.
Gideon’s gaze swept over all of us, then locked with mine. He looked perfect, his suit pristine, his tie immaculately knotted, his dark hair framing that savagely beautiful face. There was the faintest shadow of stubble around his sensual mouth. That, and the sexy length of his hair, lent a dangerous edge to his otherwise civilized appearance.
Not even the two cops standing between us could diminish the surge of hunger that flooded me at the sight of him.
I watched as he came toward me, shrugging out of his suit jacket as if it were the most natural thing to have two of New York’s finest there to question me. He tossed it over the back of a bar stool at the island and moved beside me, taking my coffee out of my hands and pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Gideon Cross,” he said, extending his hand to both officers. “And this is our counsel, Arash Madani.”
It was then I noticed that Arash had entered the kitchen behind my husband. The officers, as focused on Gideon as I was, didn’t seem to have noticed him either.
Supremely confident, with dark good looks and easy charm, Arash swept into the room and took over, introducing himself with a wide smile. The disparity between him and Gideon was striking. Both men were elegant, handsome, and poised. Both were courteous. But Arash was accessible, relatable. Gideon was imposing and remote.
I looked up at my husband, watching as he drank from my mug. “Would you like some black coffee instead?”
His hand swept down my back, his eyes on the officers and Arash. “I’d love some.”
“It’s good that you’re here, Mr. Cross,” Peña said. “Dr. Lucas also filed a complaint against you.”
“Well, that was fun,” Arash said an hour later, after showing the officers out to the elevator.
Gideon shot him a look as he deftly opened a bottle of malbec. “If that’s your idea of entertainment, you need to get out more.”
“I was planning on doing that tonight—with a very hot blonde, I might add—until I got your call.” Arash pulled out one of the island bar stools and sat.
I scooped up all the mugs and moved them to the sink. “Thank you, Arash.”
“You’re most welcome.”
“I bet you don’t step into courtrooms all that often, but I want to be there the next time you do. You’re awesome.”
He grinned. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Don’t thank him for doing his job,” Gideon muttered. He poured the dark red wine into three glasses.
“I’m thanking him for doing his job well,” I countered, still impressed by the way Arash worked. The attorney was charismatic and disarming, as well as humble when it served his purposes. He put everyone at ease, then let them do the talking while he figured out his best angle of attack.
Gideon scowled at me. “What the hell do you think I’m paying him so much to do? Fuck up?”
“Dial it back, ace,” I said calmly. “Don’t let that bitch get to you. And don’t take that tone with me. Or your friend.”
Arash winked at me. “I think he’s jealous you like me so much.”
“Ha!” Then I saw the way Gideon glared at Arash and my brows went up. “Seriously?”
“Get back on topic. How are you fixing this?” my husband challenged, looking daggers at his friend over the rim of his wineglass.
“Fixing your fuck-up?” Arash asked, his brown eyes bright with silent laughter. “You both provided Anne Lucas the ammunition for this by going to her place of employment on two separate occasions. You’re damned lucky she embellished her story with a little assault accusation against Eva. If she’d just stuck with the truth, she’d have you both by the throats.”
I went to the fridge and started pulling out items to throw together for dinner. I’d been kicking myself for being stupid all evening. It would never have occurred to me to think she might voluntarily reveal her sordid extramarital affair with Gideon. She was supposed to be an upstanding member of the mental health community and her husband was a well-regarded pediatrician.
I’d underestimated her. And I hadn’t listened to Gideon when he had warned me she was dangerous. The result was that she had a legitimate complaint that first Gideon had barged into her office during a therapy session, and then I’d ambushed her at work again two weeks later.
Arash accepted the glass Gideon slid briskly over to him. “The district attorney may or may not decide to go after her for falsely reporting an incident, but she damaged her credibility by accusing Eva of putting hands on her when security footage proves otherwise. Very fortunate, you having that, by the way.”
Learning that Gideon did indeed own the building Anne Lucas worked in hadn’t surprised me too much. My husband needed control, and having that sort of hold over the businesses of both the Lucases was just like him.
“It shouldn’t have to be said,” Arash went on, “but when confronted by crazy, Do Not Engage.”
Gideon arched his brow at me. It chafed, but he was right. He’d told me so.
The attorney shot warning glances at both of us. “I’ll work on getting her erroneous assault complaint dismissed and see if I can leverage it to our advantage by filing a counterclaim of harassment. I’ll also try for protection orders for both of you and Cary Taylor, but regardless, you all need to stay far, far away from her.”
“Absolutely,” I assured him, taking the opportunity to palm my husband’s fine, taut ass as I passed behind him.
He shot me a wry glance over his shoulder. I blew him a kiss.
It tickled me that he would feel even the slightest bit of jealousy. The most impressive thing about Arash was that he held his own next to Gideon; he certainly couldn’t surpass him. While I’d seen that Arash could be every bit as threatening as my husband, it wasn’t his default setting.
Gideon was always dangerous. No one ever mistook him for anything else. I was intensely attracted to that about him, understood that I would never tame him. And God, was he gorgeous. He knew it, too. Knew how dazzled I was by him.
But the green-eyed monster could still get the better of him.
“You’ll stay for dinner?” I asked Arash. “No idea what I’m making yet, but we ruined your plans and I feel bad about that.”
“It’s still early.” Gideon took a deep swallow of his wine. “He can make other plans.”
“I’d love to stay for dinner,” Arash said, grinning wickedly.
I couldn’t resist copping another feel, so I reached around my husband to get my wine and caressed his thigh while I was at it. I brushed my breasts across his back as I withdrew my hand.
Lightning quick, Gideon’s hand caught my wrist. He squeezed and a shiver of arousal slid through me.
Those blue eyes turned on me. “You want to misbehave?” he asked silkily.
I was instantly desperate for him. Because he looked so cool and savagely civilized, completely contained while he basically asked if I wanted to fuck.
He had no idea how much.
I heard a faint buzz. Still holding me captive by the wrist, Gideon looked across the island at Arash. “Pass my phone over.”
Arash looked at me and shook his head, even as he turned to dig Gideon’s phone out of the suit jacket on the bar stool. “How you put up with him, I will never know.”
“He’s great in bed,” I quipped, “and he’s not surly there, so …”
Gideon yanked me into his side and bit my earlobe. My nipples tightened into hard points. He growled almost inaudibly against my neck, though I doubted he cared if Arash heard.
Breathless, I pulled away and tried to focus on cooking. I hadn’t taken over Gideon’s kitchen before, hadn’t a clue where anything was or what he had stocked, aside from what I’d glimpsed while getting coffee ready for the police. I found an onion, and located a knife and cutting board. Grateful as I was for the distraction, I had to do something else besides getting us both revved up.
“Right,” Gideon said into the phone with a sigh. “I’m coming.”
I looked up. “Do you have to go somewhere?”
“No. Angus is bringing Lucky up.”
I grinned.
“Who’s Lucky?” Arash asked.
“Gideon’s dog.”
The lawyer looked suitably shocked. “You have a dog?”
“I do now,” Gideon said ruefully, leaving the kitchen.
When he returned a moment later with a squirming Lucky happily licking his jaw, I melted. There he stood, in his vest and shirtsleeves, a titan of industry, a global powerhouse, and he was being overwhelmed by the cutest puppy ever.
Picking up his phone, I unlocked it and snapped a picture.
That was going into a frame, ASAP.
While I was at it, I texted Cary. Hey, it’s Eva. Want to come over to the penthouse for dinner?
I waited a beat for him to reply, then set Gideon’s phone down and went back to chopping.
“I should’ve listened to you about Anne,” I told Gideon as we returned to the living room after saying good-bye to Arash. “I’m sorry.”
His hand at my lower back slid over farther, cupping my waist. “Don’t be.”
“It’s got to be frustrating for you to deal with my stubbornness.”
“You’re great in bed, and you’re not stubborn there, so …”
I laughed as he tossed my words back at me. I was happy. Spending the evening with him and Arash, watching how relaxed and easy he was with his friend, being able to move around the penthouse as if it were my home …
“I feel married,” I murmured, realizing that I hadn’t truly felt that way before. We had the rings and the vows, but those were the trappings of marriage, not the reality of it.
“You should,” he replied, with a familiar note of arrogance, “since you are and will be for the rest of your life.”
I looked at him as we settled on the sofa. “Do you?”
His gaze went to the playpen by the fireplace where Lucky slept. “Are you asking if I feel domesticated?”
“That will never happen,” I said dryly.
Gideon looked at me, searching. “Do you want me to be?”
I ran my hand down his thigh, because I couldn’t help myself. “No.”
“Tonight … You liked having Arash here.”
I shot him a look. “You’re not jealous of your lawyer, are you? That would be ridiculous.”
“I don’t like it, either.” He scowled. “But that’s not what I meant. You like having people over.”
“Yes.” I frowned. “Don’t you?”
He looked away, his lips pursed. “It’s fine.”
I stilled. Gideon’s home was his sanctuary. Before me, he’d never brought any women here. I’d assumed he had entertained his guy friends, but maybe not …? Maybe the penthouse was where he retreated from everyone.
I reached for his hand. “I’m sorry, Gideon. I should’ve asked you first. I didn’t think about it and I should have. It’s your home—”
“Our home,” he corrected, focusing back on me. “What are you apologizing for? You have every right to do whatever you like here. You don’t have to ask me for permission for anything.”
“And you shouldn’t feel invaded in your own home.”
“Our home,” he snapped. “You need to grasp that concept, Eva. Quickly.”
I jerked back from his sudden flare of temper. “You’re mad.”
He stood and rounded the coffee table, his body vibrating with tension. “You went from feeling married to acting like you’re a guest in my house.”
“Our house,” I corrected. “Which means we share it and you have the right to say you’d rather we didn’t entertain here.”
Gideon shoved a hand through his hair, a sure sign of his increasing agitation. “I don’t give a shit about that.”
“You’re certainly acting like you do,” I said evenly.
“For fuck’s sake.” He faced me, his hands on his lean hips. “Arash is my friend. Why would I care if you cook him dinner?”
Were we circling back to jealousy? “I cooked dinner for you, and invited him to join us.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“It doesn’t seem fine, ’cuz you’re pissed.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, I’m confused and that’s starting to make me pissed.”
His jaw tightened. He turned away, walking to the fireplace and looking at the family photos I’d placed on the mantel.
I suddenly regretted doing that. I would be the first to admit that I pushed him into change faster than I should, but I understood the need for a haven, a quiet place to let your guard down. I wanted to be that for him, wanted our home to be that for him. If I made it a place he wanted to avoid—if he ever found it easier to avoid me—then I would effectively be jeopardizing the very marriage I valued more than anything.
“Gideon. Please talk to me.” Maybe I’d made that difficult, too. “If I’ve crossed a line, you have to tell me.”
He faced me again, frowning. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. I don’t understand why you’re upset with me. Help me understand.”
Gideon heaved a sigh of frustration, then focused on me with the laserlike precision that had exposed every secret I’d had. “If there weren’t anyone else on earth, just you and me, I’d be okay with that. But that wouldn’t be enough for you.”
I sat back, startled. His mind was a labyrinth I would never map. “You would be okay with just me and no one else—indefinitely? No competitors to squash? No global domination to plan?” I snorted. “You’d be bored out of your mind.”
“Is that what you think?”
“That’s what I know.”
“What about you?” he challenged. “How would you manage with no friends to invite over and no one else’s life to meddle in?”
My gaze narrowed. “I don’t meddle.”
He gave me a patient look. “Would I be enough for you, if there were no one else?”
“There is no one else.”
“Eva. Answer the question.”
I had no idea where he was coming from, but that only made it easier for me to answer him. “You fascinate the fuck out of me, you know that? You’re never boring. A lifetime alone with you wouldn’t be long enough to figure you out.”
“Could you be happy?”
“Having you all to myself ? That would be heaven.” My mouth curved. “I have a Tarzan fantasy. You Tarzan, me Jane.”
The tension in his shoulders visibly eased and a faint smile touched his mouth. “We’ve been married a month. Why am I just now hearing about this?”
“I figured I’d give it a few months before I whipped out the freaky.”
Gideon flashed me a rare, wide smile and fried my brain in the process. “How does the fantasy go?”
“Oh, you know.” I waved one hand carelessly. “Tree house, loincloth. Weather hot enough to put a sheen of sweat on you, but not too hot. You’d be seething with the need to fuck but have no experience doing it. I’d have to show you how.”
He stared at me. “You have a sexual fantasy in which I’m a virgin?”
It took a lot of effort not to laugh at his incredulity. “In every way,” I said, with utmost seriousness. “You’ve never seen breasts or a woman’s pussy before mine. I have to show you how to touch me, what I like. You catch on quick, but then I’ve got a wild man on my hands. You can’t get enough.”
“That’s reality.” He headed toward the kitchen. “I have something for you.”
“A loincloth?”
He answered over his shoulder. “How about what goes in it?”
My mouth curved. I half expected him to come back out with wine. I straightened when I saw that he had something small and bright red in his hand, a color and shape I recognized as Cartier. “A present?”
Gideon crossed the distance between us with his confident, sexy stride.
Excited, I rose onto my knees. “Gimme, gimme.”
He shook his head, holding his hand aloft as he sat. “You can’t have what I haven’t given you yet.”
I sank back down, putting my hands on my thighs.
“In answer to your questions …” He brushed his fingertips across my cheek. “Yes, I feel married.”
My pulse fluttered.
“Coming home to you,” he murmured, his gaze on my mouth, “watching you whip up dinner in our kitchen. Even having damned Arash here. That’s what I want. You. This life we’re building.”
“Gideon …” My throat burned.
He looked down at the red suede pouch in his hand. He flipped open the button that kept it closed and poured two platinum crescents into the palm of his hand.
“Wow.” My hand went to my throat.
He caught my left wrist and pulled it gently into his lap, sliding one half of the bracelet beneath it. The other half he held up to me, so I could see that he’d inscribed something inside.
ALWAYS MINE. FOREVER YOURS. —GIDEON
“Oh, boy,” I breathed, watching as my husband fit the top half of the bracelet to the bottom. “This is sooo getting you laid.”
His soft laugh made me fall deeper in love with him.
The bracelet had a screw motif that circled the entire band, with two actual screws on the sides that he secured with a small screwdriver.
“This,” he held up the screwdriver, “is mine.”
I watched him tuck it into his pocket, understanding that I wouldn’t be able to get the bracelet off without him. Not that I’d want to. I already treasured it—and the proof of his romantic soul.
“And this”—I straddled his hips, draping my arms over his shoulders—“is mine.”
His hands gripped my waist, his head tipping back to expose his throat to my questing lips. It wasn’t surrender. It was indulgence, and that was just fine with me.
“Take me to bed,” I whispered, my tongue rimming the shell of his ear.
I felt his muscles bunch, then flex effortlessly as he stood while holding me as if I weighed nothing at all. I gave a throaty purr of appreciation and he swatted my ass, hitching me higher before carrying me out of the living room.
I was panting, my heart racing. My hands were everywhere, sliding through his hair and over his shoulders, unknotting his tie. I wanted to get to his skin, to feel him flesh to flesh. My lips roved over his face, kissing everywhere I could reach.
His stride was purposeful, but leisurely. His breathing even and steady. He kicked the door closed with a graceful, easy push.
Oh God, it drove me insane when he was that controlled.
He tried to set me down on the bed, but I held on.
“I can’t take your clothes off if you don’t let me go.” Only the hoarseness of his voice betrayed his need.
I released him, tackling the buttons of his vest before he straightened. “Take your clothes off.”
He swatted my fingers away so he could take over. I stared, my breath held, as he started to strip.
The sight of his hands, tanned by the sun, glittering with the rings I’d given him, deftly unknotting his tie … How could that be so erotic?
The whisper of the silk as he tugged it off. The careless way he let it fall to the floor. The heat of his eyes as he watched me watching him.
It was the worst sort of denial, extreme self-torture, and I forced myself to bear it. Wanting to touch him but restraining myself. Waiting for him while coveting him. I’d tortured us both by making us wait, so it was the least I deserved.
I’d missed him. Missed having him like this.
The collar of his shirt parted as he slid the buttons from their holes, exposing the strong column of his throat, then a glimpse of his chest. He stopped at the button below his pecs, teasing me, switching to his cuff links.
He removed them slowly, one at a time, setting them carefully and deliberately on the nightstand.
A soft whimper escaped me. Desperation was a wild thing inside me, sliding through my veins, the most potent aphrodisiac.
Gideon shrugged out of his shirt and vest, his shoulders bunching, then relaxing.
He was perfect. Every inch of him. Every hard slab of honed muscle visible beneath the rough silk of his skin. Nothing brutish in any way. Not too much of anything.
Except his cock. Jesus.
My thighs squeezed together as he toed out of his oxfords and pushed his slacks and boxer briefs down his long, strong legs. My sex ached and swelled, the blood rushing to my core, my slit slick with wanting.
The rigid lacing of his abs flexed as he straightened. The muscles veed at his hips and pointed to the thick, long penis that curved upward between his thighs.
“Oh God. Gideon.”
Pre-ejaculate slicked the wide head. His testicles hung heavily, balancing the weight of his thickly veined cock. He was magnificent, beautiful in the most primal way, savagely masculine. The sight of him stirred everything feminine inside me.
I licked my lips, my mouth flooded with moisture. I wanted to taste him, to hear his pleasure when I wasn’t lost to my own, to feel him quake and shiver when I took him over the edge.
Gideon fisted his erection, stroking it hard from root to tip, pumping a thick pearl of moisture up to bead the tip.
“It’s yours, angel,” he said roughly. “Take it.”
I scrambled off the bed and started to sink to my knees.
He caught me by the elbow, his mouth a taut line. “Naked.”
It was hard to straighten my legs, my knees weak with desire. Harder still to resist yanking off my clothes in a rush. I was shaking as I untied my sleeveless wrap top, trying to pull open the loosened halves with some semblance of a striptease.
His hissed intake of air when I exposed the lace of my bra betrayed his fraying control. My breasts were heavy and tender, the nipples hard and tight.
Gideon took a step toward me, his hands sliding beneath the shoulder straps and pulling them down until I fell into his waiting palms. My eyes closed on a low moan as he squeezed gently, hefting the weight of my breasts before stroking over my nipples with the pads of his thumbs.
“Should’ve kept you dressed,” he said tightly. But his touch said something else. That I was beautiful. Sexy. That I was all he could see.
He pulled away and I cried out, missing his hands.
His eyes were so dark they seemed black. “Offer them to me.”
I shifted on my feet, my sex throbbing. Shrugging, I let my shirt drop, then reached behind me to unclasp my bra. It slid down my arms, freeing me to cup my breasts and lift them up to him.
Bending his head with frustrating patience, Gideon ran the tip of his tongue over my nipple in a slow, unhurried lick. I wanted to scream … hit him … something. Anything to break that maddening restraint.
“Please,” I begged, shameless. “Gideon, please …”
He sucked, hard. Drawing on me with deep rapid pulls, his tongue furiously lashing the sensitive tip. I could smell the animal lust on him, pheromones and testosterone, the scent of a ferociously aroused virile male. It called to me, demanding and possessive. I felt the pull of it, of him. Felt the melting inside me, the surrender.
I swayed and he caught me, tipping me back over his arms and moving to my other breast. His cheeks hollowed with the force of his sucking, my core clenching in rhythm. My spine ached with the strain of the pose I had to hold for him to take his pleasure, and that turned me on to the point of madness.
I’d fought for him. He had killed for me. There was a bond between us, primitive and ancient, that transcended definition. He could take me, use me. I was his. I’d made him wait and he’d allowed me to for reasons I wasn’t sure I knew. But he was reminding me now that I could walk far and try to keep my distance at times, but his hand would always hold the chains that bound us together. And he would pull me back when it suited him, because I belonged to him.
Always mine.
“Don’t wait.” My hands went into his hair. “Fuck me. I need your cock inside me—”
He spun me and bent me over the bed, pinning me down with a hand between my shoulder blades, reaching for the back zipper of my capris. He yanked on the pull, ripping it open and rending the cotton.
“Are you with me?” he growled, shoving his hand into the opening to cup the cheek of my buttock.
“Yes! God, yes …” And he knew it, but he asked. Always making sure to remind me that I had the control, that I gave him permission.
He destroyed my pants getting them down to my knees, using just one hand while the other fisted my hair. He was rough, impatient. He gripped the band of my thong and tugged, the material digging into my skin before breaking with a snap.
He pushed his hand between my bound legs, cupping my sex. My back arched, my body trembling.
“Christ, you’re wet.” He pushed a finger inside me. Pulled out. Pushed in with two. “I’m so fucking hard for you.”
The tender tissues grasped at his plunging fingers. He withdrew, circling my clit, rubbing it. I pressed into his fingertips, seeking the pressure I needed, soft pleading sounds pouring from my throat.
“Don’t come until I’m inside you,” he growled. He grabbed my hips with both hands, pulling me back as he notched the broad head of his cock into my slit.
He paused a moment, breathing hard and loud. Then he shoved inside me. I screamed into the mattress, stretched wide and too full, writhing to accommodate him.
He held me aloft, my feet leaving the floor. He rolled his hips and claimed that last little space inside me, his penis tunneling deep. I squeezed every inch of him, pulsing around him in frantic pleasure.
“Okay?” he bit out, his fingers kneading restlessly into my flesh.
I pushed back with my arms, so close to coming it hurt. “More.”
Through the roaring of blood in my ears I heard him groan my name. His cock swelled and lengthened, jerking as he orgasmed in hard spurts. It felt endless and maybe it was, because he started fucking through his climax, pumping me full of hot, creamy semen. The feel of him coming sparked my orgasm. It rushed over me in powerful spasms, racking my body with violent shudders.
My nails clawed at the comforter, trying to find purchase as Gideon pounded his cock into me, lost in a hot furious rut. The slickness of his semen wet the lips of my sex, then rolled down my legs. He groaned and thrust deep, rolling his hips, screwing into me. He shuddered, coming again, only moments after his first.
Folding over me, Gideon kissed my shoulder, his breath gusting hot and fast over the sweat-slick curve of my back. His chest heaved against my spine, his bruising grip on my hips easing. His hands began to stroke, to soothe. His fingers found my clit and massaged, stirring me, rubbing me into another trembling climax.
His lips moved against my skin. Angel … Over and over he said the word. Brokenly. Desperately. Breathlessly.
Forever yours.
While deep inside me, he remained hard and ready.
I was lying on the bed, tucked against Gideon’s side. My pants were gone and he was nude, his magnificent body still damp with sweat.
My husband lay sprawled on his back, one thickly muscled arm arched over his head, while the other curled beneath and around me, his fingers running absently up and down the length of my torso.
We lay naked atop the sheets, his legs spread, his cock semierect and curving up to his navel. It glistened in the light of the bedside lamps, wet from me and him. His breathing was just beginning to slow, his heartbeat calming beneath my ear. He smelled delicious, like sin and sex and Gideon.
“I don’t remember how we got on the bed,” I murmured, my voice throaty and near hoarse.
Gideon’s chest rumbled with a laugh. Turning his head, he pressed his lips to my forehead.
I curled tighter into him, my arm draping across his waist and holding on tight.
“You good?” he asked softly.
Tipping my head back, I looked at him. He was flushed and sweaty, his hair clinging to his temples and neck. His body was a well-oiled machine, used to the strenuous mixed martial arts he used to condition it. He wasn’t wiped from fucking; he could do that all night, tirelessly. It was the effort of holding back as long as he could, reining himself in until I was as wild for him as he was for me.
“You fucked my brains out.” I smiled, feeling drugged. “My toes and fingers are tingling.”
“I was rough.” He touched my hip. “I bruised you.”
“Umm … ” My eyes closed. “I know.”
I felt him shift, rising, blocking out the light.
“You like that,” he murmured.
I looked up at him leaning over me. I touched his face, tracing his brow and his jaw with my fingertips. “I love your control. It turns me on.”
He caught my fingers in his teeth, then released them. “I know.”
“But when you lose it … ” I sighed, remembering. “It drives me crazy to know I can do that to you, that you want me that much.”
His head dropped, his forehead touching mine. He tugged me closer, making me feel how hard he was again. “More than anything.”
“And you trust me.” In my arms, he let every guard down. The ferocity of his need didn’t hide his vulnerability; it revealed it.
“More than anyone.” He slid over me, covering my body from ankle to shoulder, effortlessly supporting his weight so he didn’t crush me. The sensual pressure made me hot for him all over again.
Tilting his head, Gideon brushed his lips over mine. “Crossfire,” he murmured.
Crossfire was my safeword, what I said to him when I was overwhelmed and needed him to stop whatever he was doing. When he said the word to me, he was overwhelmed, too, but he didn’t want me to stop. For Gideon, Crossfire conveyed a connection deeper than love.
My mouth curved. “I love you, too.”
Wrapping myself around a pillow, I looked toward the closet and listened to the sound of Gideon singing. I smiled ruefully. He was showered and dressing, and obviously feeling energetic despite beginning the morning by screwing me into an orgasm that left me seeing stars.
It took me a moment to recognize the song. When I did, I felt butterflies. “At Last.” Whether it was the Etta James or Beyoncé version he was hearing in his mind didn’t matter. What I heard was his voice, rich and nuanced, singing about seeing blue skies and smiles that cast a spell on him.
He stepped out knotting a charcoal tie, his vest unbuttoned and his jacket slug over his arm. Lucky scurried out after him, never far behind. After being freed from the playpen that morning, the puppy had become his shadow.
Gideon’s gaze landed on me. He flashed me a heartbreaker of a smile. “And here we are,” he crooned.
“Here I am, anyway. Leveled by hours of sex. I don’t think I can stand and you’re”—I gestured at him—“you. It’s not fair. I’m not doing something right.”
Gideon sat on the edge of the rumpled bed, looking impeccable. Bending over, he kissed me. “Remind me … How many times did I come last night?”
I shot him a look. “Not enough, apparently, since you were ready to go again when the sun came up.”
“Which proves the point that you’re doing something very right.” He brushed the hair off my cheek. “I’m tempted to stay home, but I’ve got to clear the decks so we can disappear for a month. As you can see, I’m extremely motivated.”
“You were serious about that?”
“You thought I wasn’t?” Brushing the sheet aside, he cupped my breast.
I caught his hand before he aroused me again. “A monthlong honeymoon. I’ll wear you out at least once. I’m determined.”
“Will you?” His eyes sparkled with laughter. “Only once?”
“You’re asking for it, ace. By the time I’m done, you’ll beg me to leave you alone.”
“That will never happen, angel. Not in a million years.”
His confidence challenged me.
I tugged the sheet back up again. “We’ll just see about that.”