My heart rate sped up. I reached for her wrists, holding them firmly, anchoring myself to her. I felt cornered, trapped between her needs and my own, which seemed terribly divergent at that moment.
Her lips parted at the pressure of my grip, her breasts lifting with a quickened breath. A restraining touch, a heated look, the tone of my voice … Eva reacted to my unspoken demands as if she’d been trained to.
“I’m doing my best,” I told her.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s all I’ve got right now, Eva.”
She swallowed, her thoughts scattering as her body stirred. “You’re playing with me,” she said quietly. “You’re manipulating me.”
“I’m not. I’m giving you the truth, even though it’s not what you want to hear. You told me you wouldn’t push. Did you mean it?”
Wetting her lower lip with a brush of her tongue, she stared up at me. Then nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Let’s have some wine and dinner. Afterward, if you’d really like to play, let me know.”
“Play? How?”
“I have some silk cord I bought for you.”
Her eyes widened. “Silk cord?”
“Crimson, of course.” I released her and stepped back, giving her some space to think while I reached for the decanter to pour her a glass. “I’d like to tie you down when you’re ready for that. If not tonight, then someday. I won’t push you, either.”
We were both steering each other in directions that were uncomfortable. She chose to believe an educated observer was part of the answer we were looking for. I believed we could find a lot of the answers on our own, just the two of us connecting in the most intimate ways possible.
Sexual healing. What could be more perfect for two people who had the history Eva and I shared?
Eva accepted the wine I handed her. “When did you buy that?”
“A week ago. Maybe two. I had no expectation of using it soon, but you made me want to today.” I took a sip, letting the shiraz roll around my tongue. “That said, I’m perfectly happy with just fucking you hard.”
The wine sloshed a little in her glass as she lifted it to her mouth. She gulped it down, leaving a few drops in the bottom. “Because you’re mad at me for talking to Chris.”
“I told you I wasn’t.”
“You were furious when we left.”
“Furiously turned on.” I smiled wryly. “I can’t explain why, because I don’t understand it myself.”
“Try.”
I reached up and brushed the pad of my thumb over her lips. “I see you angry, passionate, ready to fight, and I want all that violence trapped beneath me. You make me want to hold you down, clawing and screaming, your cunt milking my cock as I pound it into you. Mine. All mine.”
“Gideon.” She set her glass aside and grabbed me, claiming my mouth with a wild hunger I hoped would never abate.
“How come you never told Chris about what happened with Hugh?”
That unwelcome question came out of the fucking blue. I paused midchew, suddenly finding the bite of pizza in my mouth unappetizing. Dropping what was left of my slice onto the plate in front of me, I grabbed a napkin and wiped my mouth. “Why are we discussing this again?”
Eva frowned at me from where she sat beside me on the floor in between the coffee table and the couch in the living room. “We didn’t talk about it.”
“Didn’t we? In any case, it doesn’t matter. My mother told him.”
Her frown deepened. She reached for the TV remote and lowered the volume, muting the voices of the NYPD detectives on the screen. “I don’t think so.”
I pushed to my feet and grabbed my plate. “She did, Eva.”
“Do you know that for sure?” She followed me into the kitchen.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“They discussed it at the dinner table one night, something I don’t want to do.”
“He acted like he didn’t know.” She braced her hands against the counter as I dropped my leftovers into the trash. “He seemed genuinely confused and horrified.”
“Then he’s as conveniently obtuse as my mother. You shouldn’t be surprised.”