“I need to be inside you, Eva,” he whispered roughly. “I’m aching for you.”
My gaze fell to my drink on the table, my thoughts swirling around in my head, a clusterfuck of impressions and recollections and confusion. “How did you know?”
His tongue traced the shell of my ear and I shivered. It felt like every cell in my body was straining toward his. Resisting him took an impossible amount of energy, draining me and making me feel tired.
“Know what?” he asked.
“What I like to drink? What Cary’s name is?”
He inhaled deeply, and then pulled away. Setting his drink down, he shifted on the sofa and drew a knee up onto the cushion between us so that he faced me directly. His arm once again draped over the sofa back, his fingertips drawing circles on the curve of my shoulder. “You visited another of my clubs earlier. Your credit card popped and your drinks were recorded. And Cary Taylor is listed on the rental agreement for your apartment.”
The room spun. No way…My cell phone. My credit card. My fucking apartment. I couldn’t breathe. Between my mother and Gideon, I felt claustrophobic.
“Eva. Jesus. You’re white as a ghost.” He shoved a glass into my hand. “Drink.”
It was the Stoli and cranberry. I pounded it, draining the tumbler. My stomach churned for a moment, then settled. “You own the building I live in?” I gasped.
“Oddly enough, yes.” He moved to sit on the table, facing me, his legs on either side of mine. He took my glass and set it aside; then warmed my chilled hands with his.
“Are you crazy, Gideon?”
His mouth thinned. “Is that a serious question?”
“Yes. Yes, it is. My mom stalks me, too, and she sees a shrink. Do you have a shrink?”
“Not presently, but you’re driving me crazy enough to make that a possibility.”
“So this behavior isn’t normal for you?” My heart was pounding. I could hear the blood rushing past my eardrums. “Or is it?”
He shoved a hand through his hair, restoring order to the strands I’d mussed when we’d kissed. “I accessed information you voluntarily made available to me.”
“Not to you! Not for what you used it for! That has to violate some kind of privacy law.” I stared at him, more confused than ever. “Why would you do that?”
He had the grace to look disgruntled at least. “So I can figure you out, damn it.”
“Why don’t you just ask me, Gideon? Is that so fucking hard for people to do nowadays?”
“It is with you.” He grabbed his drink off the table and tossed back most of it. “I can’t get you alone for more than a few minutes at a time.”
“Because the only thing you want to talk about is what you have to do to get laid!”
“Christ, Eva,” he hissed, squeezing my hand. “Keep your voice down!”
I studied him, taking in every line and plane of his face. Unfortunately, cataloging the details didn’t lessen my awe even a tiny bit. I was beginning to suspect I’d never get over being dazzled by his looks.
And I wasn’t alone; I’d seen how other women reacted around him. And he was crazy rich, which made even old, bald, and paunchy guys attractive. It was no wonder he was used to snapping his fingers and scoring an orgasm.
His gaze darted over my face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?” His jaw tightened. “And I’m warning you, if you say anything about orifices, preapprovals, or seminal emissions, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
That almost made me smile. “I want to understand a few things, because I think it’s possible I’m not giving you enough credit.”
“I’d like to understand a few things myself,” he muttered.
“I’m guessing the ‘I want to fuck you’ approach has a high success rate for you.”
Gideon’s face smoothed into unreadable impassivity. “I’m not touching that one, Eva.”