“Asshole. That smug look on his face—Ugh.” I shuddered.
Pressing his lips to my hair, he murmured, “I thought Maggie would be safe from him. Our mothers have known each other for years. I forget how much he hates me.”
“Why?”
I wondered briefly if the nightmares Gideon had were related to Christopher, then I put the thought aside. No way. Gideon was older by several years and tougher all the way around. He’d kick Christopher’s ass.
“He thinks I got all the attention when we were younger,” Gideon said wearily, “because everyone was worried about how I was handling my father’s suicide. So he wants what’s mine. Everything he can get his hands on.”
I turned into him, pushing my arms underneath his jacket to get closer. There was something in his voice that made me hurt for him. His family home was a place he said haunted his nightmares and he was terribly distant from his family.
He’d never been loved. It was as simple—and as complicated—as that.
“Gideon?”
“Hmm?”
I pulled back to look at him. Reaching up, I traced the bold arch of his brow. “I love you.”
A violent shudder moved through him, one hard enough to shake me, too.
“I don’t mean to freak you out,” I reassured him quickly, averting my face to give him some privacy. “You don’t have to do anything about it. I just didn’t want another minute to go by without you knowing how I feel. You can tuck it away now.”
One of his hands gripped my nape, the other dug almost painfully into my waist. Gideon held me there, immobile, locked against him as if I might blow away. His breathing was ragged, his heartbeat pounding. He didn’t say another word the rest of the ride to work, but he didn’t let me go either.
I planned on telling him again one day in the future, but as far as first times went, I thought we’d both done okay.
At ten o’clock sharp, I had two dozen long-stemmed red roses delivered to Gideon’s office with the note: In celebration of red dresses and limo rides.
Ten minutes later, I received an interoffice envelope with a note card that read:
Let’s do that again. Soon.
At eleven o’clock, I had a black-and-white calla lily arrangement delivered to his office with the note: In honor of black & white garden party dresses and being dragged into libraries…
Ten minutes later, I received his reply:
I’ll be dragging you to the floor in a minute…
At noon, I went shopping. Ring shopping. I hit six different shops before I found a piece that struck me as being absolutely perfect. Made of platinum engraved and studded with black diamonds, it was an industrial-looking ring that made me think of power and bondage. It was a dominant ring, very bold and masculine. I had to open a new charge account with the store to cover the hefty cost, but I considered the months of payments ahead of me worth it.
I called Gideon’s office and talked with Scott, who helped me arrange a fifteen-minute window in Gideon’s packed day for me to stop by.
“Thank you so much for your help, Scott.”
“You’re very welcome. I’ve enjoyed watching him receive your flowers today. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that.”
A warm rush of love flowed through me. I wanted to make Gideon happy. As he’d said, I lived for it.
I went back to work with a smile of my own. At two o’clock, I had a tiger lily arrangement delivered to Gideon’s office followed by a private note sent via interoffice envelope:
In gratitude for all the jungle sex.
His reply:
Skip the Krav Maga. I’ll give you a workout.
When three forty rolled around—five minutes before my appointment with Gideon—I got nervous. I stood up from my chair on shaky legs and paced in the elevator on the way up to his floor. Now that the time had come to give him my gift, I worried that maybe he didn’t like rings…after all, he didn’t wear any.