“Enough!” he snapped, shoving his hands through his wet hair.
I settled back, watching and waiting as he clearly struggled with himself. “You should know you can tell me anything,” I said softly.
“Can I?” He pierced me with his gaze. “Don’t you have enough to look past as it is? How much shit can I pile on you before you run like hell?”
Laying my arms along the rim of the tub, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “Okay, then. We’ll just be fuck buddies who bitch to a therapist once a week. Good to know.”
“I screwed her,” he spat. “There. Do you feel better?”
I shot up so fast, water surged over the edge of the tub. My stomach cramped. “You screwed Corinne?”
“No, damn it.” His face was flushed. “Lucas’s wife.”
“Oh . . .” I remembered the photo I’d found of her through my Google search. “She’s a redhead,” I said lamely.
“My attraction to Anne was based entirely on her relationship to Lucas.”
I frowned, confused. “So things were off between you and Dr. Lucas before you slept with his wife? Or because of it?”
Gideon set his elbow on the side of the tub and scrubbed at his face. “He alienated me from my family. I returned the favor.”
“You broke them up?”
“I broke her.” He exhaled harshly. “She came on to me at a fund-raiser. I brushed her off until I learned who she was. I knew it’d kill Lucas to know I’d banged her, and the opening was there so I took it. It was just supposed to be that once, but Anne contacted me the next day. Because it would hurt him more to know she couldn’t get enough, I let it go on. When she was ready to leave him for me, I sent her back to her husband.”
I stared at him, noting his defiant embarrassment. He would do it again, but he was ashamed of what he’d done.
“Say something!” he snapped.
“Did she think you loved her?”
“No. Fuck. I’m an asshole for nailing another man’s wife, but I didn’t promise her anything. I was screwing Lucas through her—I didn’t expect for her to become collateral damage. I wouldn’t have let it get that far, if I had.”
“Gideon.” I sighed and shook my head.
“What?” He was practically bristling with restless, anxious energy. “Why did you say my name like that?”
“Because you’re ridiculously dense for such a smart guy. You were sleeping with her regularly and didn’t expect her to fall in love with you?”
“Jesus.” His head fell back with a groan. “Not this again.”
Then he straightened abruptly. “Actually, you know what? You keep on thinking I’m God’s gift to women, angel. It’s better for me if you believe I’m the best you can get.”
I splashed him. The ease with which he dismissed his appeal was another way he mirrored me. We knew our strengths and played up our assets. But we couldn’t see what made us unique enough for someone to really love us.
Gideon lunged forward and caught my hands. “Now, tell me what the fuck you had with Brett Kline.”
“You didn’t tell me what Dr. Lucas did to piss you off.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Not the details,” I argued.
“It’s your turn to spill. Out with it.”
It took me a long time to get the words out. No guy wanted a recovering slut for his girlfriend. But Gideon waited patiently. Obstinately. I knew he wasn’t going to let me get out of the tub until I told him about Brett.
“I was nothing but a convenient fuck for Brett,” I confessed in a rush, wanting to get it over with, “and I put up with it—went out of my way for it—because in that period of my life, sex was the only way I knew how to feel loved.”
“He wrote a love song about you, Eva.”
I looked away. “The truth wouldn’t make much of a ballad, would it?”
“Did you love him?”
“I— No.” I looked at Gideon when he exhaled audibly, as if he’d been holding his breath. “I had a crush on him and the way he sings, but it was totally superficial. I never got to really know him.”