Captivated by You

“I’d much rather stay home with you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re just saying that. You’re itching to get back to global domination.”

Bending down, I kissed the tip of her nose. “You know me so well.”

It still amazed me how well she could read me. I was feeling restless, a bit shaky. Distracting myself with work—seeing concrete progress made on any of the projects I was personally overseeing—would ease that. Still, I pointed out, “I could work the morning at home, and then spend the afternoon with you.”

She shook her head. “If you want to talk, I’ll stay home. Otherwise, I’ve got a job to get back to.”

“If you worked with me, you could cybercommute, too.”

“You’d rather push me on that, huh? That’s the tack you wanna take?”

I rolled onto my back and slung my forearm over my eyes. She hadn’t pushed me the day before and I knew she wouldn’t push me today. Or tomorrow. Like Dr. Petersen, she’d wait patiently for me to open up. But knowing she was waiting was pressure enough.

“There’s nothing to say,” I muttered. “It happened. Now Chris knows. Talking about it after the fact won’t change anything.”

I felt her turn toward me. “It’s not talking about the events themselves that matters, it’s how you feel about them.”

“I don’t feel anything. It . . . surprised me. I don’t like surprises. Now, I’m over it.”

“Bullshit.” She slid out of bed faster than I could catch her. “If you’re just going to lie, keep your mouth shut.”

Sitting up, I watched her round the foot of the bed, the tight set of her shoulders doing nothing to detract from how stunning she was. My need for her was a constant thrumming in my blood, so easily provoked by her fiery Latin temper into a restlessly impatient craving.

I’d heard some say my wife was as breathtaking as her mother, but I disagreed. Monica Stanton was a cool beauty, one who gave off the air of being slightly out of reach. Eva was all heat and sensuality—you could reach her, but her passion would scorch you.

I jumped out of bed and waylaid her before she reached the bathroom, gripping her by the upper arms. “I can’t fight with you right now,” I told her honestly, staring down into the roiling depths of her turbulent gaze. “If we’re out of sync, I won’t make it through the day.”

“Then don’t tell me you’re over it when you’re struggling to keep it together!”

I growled, frustrated. “I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t see how Chris knowing changes anything.”

Her chin tilted up. “He’s worried about you. Are you going to call him?”

My head turned away. When I thought of seeing my stepfather again, my stomach churned. “I’ll talk to him at some point. We do manage a business together.”

“You’d rather avoid him. Tell me why.”

I pushed back from her. “We’re not suddenly going to be the best of friends, Eva. We rarely saw each other before, and I see no reason for that to change.”

“Are you angry with him?”

“Jesus. Why the f**k is it my job to make him feel better?” I headed for the shower.

She followed. “Nothing is going to make him feel better, and I don’t think he expects that of you. He just wants to know that you’re back on your stride.”

I reached into the stall and turned the taps on.

Her hand touched my back. “Gideon . . . you can’t just shove your feelings into a box. Not unless you want an explosion like the other night. Or another nightmare.”

It was the mention of my recurrent nightmares that had me rounding on her. “We managed the last two nights just fine!”

Eva didn’t back down in the face of my fury the way others did, which only aggravated me further. And seeing the myriad reflections of her na**d body in the mirrors didn’t help.

“You didn’t sleep on Tuesday night,” she challenged. “And last night you were so exhausted, I doubt you even dreamed at all.”

She didn’t know I’d slept part of the night in the other bedroom, and I didn’t see any reason to mention it. “What do you want me to say?”

“This isn’t about me! It helps to talk things over, Gideon. Laying it all out helps us gain perspective.”

“Perspective? I’ve got that just fine. There was no mistaking the pity on Chris’s face last night. Or yours! I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, damn it. I don’t need their f**king guilt.”

Her brows shot up. “I can’t speak for Chris, but that wasn’t pity you saw on me, Gideon. Sympathy, maybe, because I know what you’re feeling. And pain, certainly, because my heart is connected to yours. When you’re hurting, I’m hurting, too. You’ll have to learn to deal with that, because I love you and I’m not going to stop.”

Her words ripped into me. Reaching out, I gripped the edge of the shower’s floating glass.

Relenting, she came to me, wrapped herself around me. My head bowed as I soaked her in. The smell of her, the feel. My free arm slid around her hips, my hand cupping the full curve of her ass. I wasn’t the same man I’d been when we met. I was stronger in some ways and weaker in others. It was the weakness I struggled with. I used to feel nothing. And now—

“He doesn’t see you as weak,” she murmured, reading me the way she always could. Her cheek lay over my heart. “No one could. After what you’ve been through . . . to be the man you are today. That’s strength, baby. And I’m impressed.”