Reflected in You

"Not me," I said dryly, checking out her tight red shorts and strategically slashed Six-Ninths screened T-shirt.



Her bright hair had been pulled up and teased, and her lips were painted to match her shorts.



She looked hot and ready to party, and I felt vindicated in my clothing choice of ultra-short black leather pleated skirt, fitted white ribbed tank top, and cherry red sixteen-eye Doc Martens.



Gideon, who'd had his back to us while talking to Angus, turned to face us, and I found myself as dumbstruck now as I'd been when I first saw him after he had showered and changed.



He wore loose-fitting black jeans and a plain black T-shirt with heavy black boots and somehow made the severely casual combination look so fucking sexy, I wanted to jump his bones.



As Dark and Dangerous as he was in a suit, he was even more so when ready to rock.



He looked younger and every bit as mouthwateringly gorgeous.



"Holy shit, tell me that's for me," Shawna whispered, gripping my wrist like a vise.



"Hey, you've got your own.



That one's mine."



And it gave me a huge thrill to say so.



Mine to claim, to touch, to kiss.



And later on, to fuck to exhaustion.



Oh yeah .



She laughed when I rocked onto my tiptoes in anticipation.



"All right.



I'll settle for an introduction."



I did the honors, then waited for her to hop into the limo first.



I was about to climb in after her when I felt Gideon's hand slide up beneath my skirt to squeeze my butt.



He pressed against my back and whispered in my ear, "Make sure I'm standing behind you when you bend over, angel, or I'll be spanking this pretty ass."



Turning my head, I leaned my cheek against his.



"My period's over."



He growled, his fingertips biting into the flesh of my hip.



"Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" "Delayed gratification, ace," I told him, using a phrase he'd once tormented me with.



I was laughing at his curse when I dropped onto the bench seat beside Shawna.



Angus slid behind the wheel and we headed out, breaking into a bottle of Armand de Brignac on the way.



By the time we pulled up to Tableau One, a hot new fusion bistro that had a healthy line out front and energetic music pouring out onto the street, the combination of the champagne and Gideon's hot gaze on the nearly indecent hemline of my skirt had me feeling giddy.



Shawna slid forward on the seat and stared wide-eyed through the tinted windows.



"Doug tried to get us in here before he left, but the waiting list is two months long.



You can walk up, but the wait can be hours and there's no guarantee you'll be seated."



The limo door opened and Angus helped her out, then me.



Gideon joined us, taking my arm as if we were dressed for a gala and not a rock concert.



We were escorted inside so quickly, with the manager being so gushy and welcoming, that I looked at Gideon and mouthed, One of yours? "Yes, in partnership."



I just sighed, reconciled to the inevitable.



"Is your friend going to meet us for dinner?" Gideon gestured with an easy nod of his chin.



"He's already here."



I followed his gaze to an attractive man sporting blue jeans and a Six- Ninths T-shirt.



The gentleman was acting as the focal point in a photo op with two pretty women on each side.



He smiled wide for the person wielding a smartphone camera, then waved at Gideon and excused himself.



"Oh my God."



Shawna bounced on her feet.



"That's Arnoldo Ricci! He owns this place.



And he's got a show on the Food Network!" Gideon released me to clasp hands with Arnoldo and engage in the backslapping ritual of close male friends.



"Arnoldo, my girlfriend, Eva Tramell."



I extended my hand and Arnoldo grabbed it, pulled me closer, and kissed me straight on the mouth.



"Back off," Gideon snapped, tugging me behind him.



Arnoldo grinned, his dark eyes flashing with humor.



"And who's this vision?" he asked, turning to Shawna and lifting her hand to his lips.



"Shawna, this will be your escort, Arnoldo Ricci, if he manages to survive dinner."



Gideon shot his friend a warning look.



"Arnoldo, Shawna Ellison."



She practically glowed.



"My boyfriend's a huge fan of yours.



I am, too.



He made your lasagna recipe once and it was.



To.



Die.



For."



"Gideon told me your man is in Sicily now."



Arnoldo's voice was flavored with a delicious accent.



"I hope you can make the time to visit with him there."



My gaze darted to Gideon, knowing damn well I'd never given him that much information about Shawna's boyfriend.



He glanced down at me with a look of mock innocence and an almost imperceptible smirk.



I shook my head, exasperated, but I couldn't deny that this would be a night Shawna would never forget.



The next hour passed in a blur of excellent food and fine wine.



I was polishing off an extraordinary zabaione with raspberries when I caught Arnoldo watching me with a wide smile.



"Bellissima," he praised.



"Always a joy to see a woman with a healthy appetite."



I flushed, slightly embarrassed.



I couldn't help it; I loved food.



Gideon draped his arm along the back of my chair and toyed with the hair at my nape.



His other hand lifted a glass of red wine to his mouth and when he licked his lips, I knew he was thinking about tasting me instead.



His desire was charging the air between us.



I had been falling under its spell all through dinner.



Reaching beneath the tablecloth, I cupped his cock through his jeans and squeezed.



He went from semihard to stone instantly but gave no other outward indication of his arousal.



I couldn't help but see that as a challenge.



I began to stroke the rigid length of him with my fingers, careful to keep my movements slow and easy to prevent detection.



To my delight, Gideon continued his conversation without a hitch in his voice or change of expression.



His control excited me, made me bolder.



I reached for his button fly, turned on by the thought of releasing him and stroking him skin on skin.Gideon took another leisurely sip, then set his wineglass down.



"Only you, Arnoldo," he said dryly in response to something his friend had said.My wrist was caught just as I tugged at the top button of his jeans.



He lifted my hand to his lips, the gesture appearing to be an absentminded show of affection.



The quick nip of his teeth into the pad of my finger caught me by surprise and made me gasp.



Arnoldo smiled; it was the knowing and slightly mocking smile one bachelor gave to another who'd been caught by a woman.



He said something in Italian.



Gideon replied, his pronunciation sounding fluid and sexy, his tone wry.



Arnoldo threw his dark head back and laughed.



I squirmed in my seat.



I loved seeing Gideon like this, relaxed and enjoying himself.



He looked at my empty dessert plate, then at me.



"Ready to go?" "Oh, yes."



I was dying to see how the rest of the night would go, how many more sides of Gideon I'd get to discover.



Because I loved this side of the man as much as I loved the powerful businessman in the suit and the dominant lover in my bed and the broken child who couldn't hide his tears and the tender partner who held me when I cried.



He was so complex and still a huge mystery to me.



I'd barely scratched the surface of who he was.



Which didn't stop me from being in too deep.



* * *



"These guys are good!" Shawna yelled as the opening act barreled headlong into their fifth song.



We'd left our seats after the third, working our way through a writhing crowd to the railing that divided the seating area from the mosh pit in front of the stage.



Gideon surrounded me, his arms caging me on both sides, his hands gripping the rail.



The audience pressed in around us, collectively pushing forward, but I was cushioned from it by his body, just as Shawna was by Arnoldo beside us.



I was sure Gideon could have gotten us way better seats, but I didn't have to tell him that the way Shawna had scored her fan-only tickets and the fact that she'd invited us meant her seats were our only option.



I loved him for understanding that and for going with the flow.



Turning my head, I looked at him.



"Is this band with Vidal, too?" "No.



But I like them."



I was stoked that he was enjoying the show.



Lifting my arms in the air, I screamed, feeling pumped by the energy of the crowd and the driving beat.



I danced within the circle of Gideon's arms, my body drenched in sweat, my blood raging.



When the act was done, the stagehands quickly set to work breaking down the equipment and setting up for Six-Ninths.



Grateful for the evening, for the joy, for the awesomeness of going wild with the man I loved, I turned and threw my arms around Gideon's neck, mashing my lips to his.



He lifted me and urged my legs around his waist, kissing me violently.



He was hard and pressing against me, luring me to grind into him.



Around us people whistled and catcalled things that ranged from "Get a room" to "Fuck her, man!" but I didn't care and neither did Gideon, who seemed as swept away by the sensual craziness as I was.



His hand on my buttocks rocked me into his erection while the other fisted in my hair, holding me where he wanted me as he kissed me as if he couldn't stop, as if he were starving for the taste of me.



Our open mouths slid desperately across each other.



He tongued me deep and fast, fucking my mouth, making love to it.



I drank him in, licking and tasting, moaning at his insatiable need.



He sucked on my tongue, the circle of his lips sliding along it.



It was too much.



I was slick and aching for his cock, nearly frantic with the need to feel him filling me.



"You're going to make me come," he growled, before tugging on my bottom lip with his teeth.

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