His knowing smile as he joined me told me he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on me. I retaliated by running soapy hands all over his godlike body; then sitting on the bench and sucking him off with such enthusiasm he had to support himself with both palms pressed flat against the tile.
His raw, raspy instructions echoed in my mind the entire time I dressed for work, which I did quickly—before he had a chance to finish his shower and fuck the hell out of me as he’d threatened to just before spurting fiercely down my throat.
He’d had no nightmares during the night. Sex as a sedative seemed to be working, and I was extremely grateful for that.
“I hope you don’t think you’ve gotten away,” he said when he prowled after me into the kitchen. Immaculately dressed in a black pinstriped suit, he accepted the cup of coffee I handed him and gave me a look that promised all sorts of wicked things. I saw him in his supremely civilized attire and thought of the insatiable male who’d slipped into my bed during the night. My blood quickened. I was sore, my muscles thrumming with remembered pleasure, and I was still thinking about more.
“Keep looking at me like that,” he warned, leaning casually into the counter and sipping his coffee. “See what happens.”
“I’m going to lose my job over you.”
“I’d give you another one.”
I snorted. “As what? Your sex slave?”
“What a provocative suggestion. Let’s discuss.”
“Fiend,” I muttered, rinsing out my mug in the sink and putting it in the dishwasher. “Ready? For work?”
He finished his coffee and I held out my hand for his mug, but he bypassed me and rinsed it out himself. Another mortal task that made him seem accessible, less of a fantasy I’d never have a chance of holding on to.
He faced me. “I want to take you out to dinner tonight, and then take you home to my bed.”
“I don’t want you to burn out on me, Gideon.” He was a man used to being alone, a man who hadn’t had a meaningful physical relationship in a long time, if ever. How long before his flight instincts kicked in? Besides, we really needed to stay out of the public eye as a couple…
“Don’t make excuses.” His features hardened. “You don’t get to decide I can’t do this.”
I kicked myself for offending him. He was trying and I needed to make sure he got credit for that, not discouragement. “That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want to crowd you. Plus we still need to—”
“Eva.” He sighed, the hard tension leaving him with that frustrated exhalation. “You have to trust me. I’m trusting you. I’ve had to or we wouldn’t be here now.”
Okay. I nodded, swallowing hard. “Dinner and your place it is, then. I honestly can’t wait.”
Gideon’s words about trust lingered in my mind all morning, which was a good thing when the Google alert digest hit my inbox.
There was more than one photo this time around. Each article and blog post had several shots of me and Cary hugging good-bye outside the restaurant where we’d had lunch the day before. The captions speculated on the nature of our relationship and some noted that we lived together. Others suggested I was reeling in “billionaire playboy Cross” while keeping my up-and-coming model boyfriend on the side.
The reason for the publicity became apparent when I saw the picture of Gideon mingled with the ones of me and Cary. It had been taken last night, while I was watching movies with Cary and Trey—and while Gideon was supposedly at a business dinner. In the photo, Gideon and Magdalene Perez smiled intimately at each other, her hand on his forearm as they stood outside a restaurant. The captions ranged between kudos for Gideon’s “bevy of beautiful socialites” to speculation that he was hiding a broken heart over my infidelity by dating other women.