On the wall, where my flat-screen TV would be hanging, was a massive photo of me blowing him a kiss, a much larger version of the photo I’d given him that he kept on his desk in his Crossfire office.
I turned slowly, trying to take it all in. He’d shocked me like this once before, when he’d re-created my bedroom in his penthouse, giving me a familiar place to run when things got too intense.
“When did you move in here?” I loved it. The mix of my modern traditional with his old-world elegance was oddly perfect. He’d blended just the right pieces to create a space that was … us.
“The week Cary was in the hospital.”
I glanced at him. “Are you serious?”
That was when Gideon had begun pulling away from me, cutting me off. He’d started hanging out with Corinne again and become difficult to reach.
Getting this place set up must have kept him busy, too.
“I needed to be near you,” he said absently, looking into the bag. “I had to be sure I could get to you quickly. Before Nathan could.”
Shock rippled through me. At a time when I’d felt Gideon drifting further and further away from me, he’d been physically close. Watching over me. “When I called you from the hospital”—I swallowed past a dry lump—“you had someone with you …”
“Raúl. He was coordinating the move-in. I had to get it done before you and Cary came home.” He looked up at me. “Towels, angel?” he asked, with more than a hint of amusement.
He pulled the white hand towels embroidered with CROSSTRAINER out of the bag. I’d picked them up at the gym. At the time, I’d been envisioning him having a bare bones bachelor pad. Now, they were ridiculous.
“I’m sorry,” I said, still reeling from his disclosure about the apartment. “I had a different idea of what this place looked like.”
He pulled the towels away when I reached for them. “Your gifts are always thoughtful. Tell me what you were thinking about when you bought these.”
“I was thinking about making you think about me.”
“Every minute of every day,” he murmured.
“Let me clarify: Me—all hot and sweaty and desperate for you.”
“Umm … a fantasy I indulge in often.”
Abruptly, the memory of Gideon pleasuring himself in my shower punched into my mind. There really were no words for how fucking amazing that sight was. “Do you think about me when you get yourself off?”
“I don’t masturbate.”
“What? Come on. Every guy does.”
Gideon caught my hand and laced our fingers, then drew me toward the kitchen from which the most heavenly smell was emanating. “Let’s talk over wine.”
“Are you trying to ply me with alcohol?”
“No.” He released me and set the bag of towels on the counter. “I know the way to your heart is with food.”
I slid onto a bar stool just like the ones in my apartment, touched by his unique way of making me feel at home. “The way to my heart? Or into my pants?”
He smiled as he poured a glass of red wine from a bottle he’d previously opened to let breathe. “You’re not wearing pants.”
“Not wearing any panties, either.”
“Careful, Eva.” Gideon shot me a stern look. “Or you’ll derail my attempt to seduce you properly before I ride you on every flat surface in this apartment.”
My mouth went dry. The look in his eyes when he brought my glass over made me feel flushed and light-headed.
“Before you,” he murmured, with his lips to the edge of his glass, “I stroked off every time I took a shower. It was as much a part of my ritual as washing my hair.”
That I believed. Gideon was a very sexual man. When we were together, he’d fuck me before bed, first thing in the morning, and sometimes fit in a quickie during the course of the day.
“Since you, only once,” he continued. “You were there with me.”
I paused with my glass halfway to my mouth. “Really?”
“Really.”
I took a drink, gathering my thoughts. “Why did you stop? The last few weeks … We went a long time without.”