Bared to You: A Crossfire Novel (18 page)

“You sick bastard.” He writhed, his legs kicking at the covers. His back arched on a groan that sounded perversely erotic. “Don’t. Ah, Christ…It
hurts
.”

He strained, his body twisting. I couldn’t bear it.

“Gideon.” Because Cary had nightmares sometimes, I knew better than to touch a man in the throes of one. Instead, I knelt on my side of the bed and called his name. “Gideon, wake up.”

Stilling abruptly, he fell to his back, tense and expectant. His chest heaved with panting breaths. His cock was hard and lay heavily along his belly.

I spoke firmly, although my heart was breaking. “Gideon. You’re dreaming. Come back to me.”

He deflated into the mattress. “Eva…?”

“I’m here.” Shifting, I moved out of the way of the moonlight, but saw no luminous glitter that would tell me his eyes were open. “Are you awake?”

His breathing began to slow, but he didn’t speak. His hands were fisted in the bottom sheet. I pulled the shirt I was wearing over my head and dropped it on the bed. I sidled closer, reaching out with a tentative hand to touch his arm. When he didn’t move, I caressed him, my fingertips sliding gently over the hard muscle of his biceps.

“Gideon?”

He jerked awake. “What? What is it?”

I sat back on my heels with my hands on my thighs. I saw him blink at me, and then shove both hands through his hair. I could feel the nightmare clinging to him, could sense it in the rigidness of his body.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gruffly, pushing up onto one elbow. “You okay?”

“I want you.” I stretched out against him, aligning my bare body to his. Pressing my face into his damp throat, I sucked gently on his salty skin. I knew from my own nightmares that being held and loved could push the specters back into the closet for a little while.

His arms came around me, his hands running up and down the curve of my spine. I felt him let go of the dream with a long, deep sigh.

Pushing him to his back, I climbed over him and sealed my mouth over his. His erection was notched between the lips of my sex and I rocked against him. The feel of his hands in my hair, holding me to take control of the kiss, quickly made me wet and ready. Fire licked just beneath my skin. I stroked my clit up and down his thick length, using him to masturbate until he made a rough sound of desire and rolled to put me beneath him.

“I don’t have any condoms in the house,” he murmured before wrapping his lips around my nipple and sucking gently.

I loved that he wasn’t prepared. This wasn’t his fuck pad; this was his home and I was the only lover he’d brought into it. “I know you mentioned swapping bills of health when we talked about birth control and that’s the responsible way to go, but—”

“I trust you.” He lifted his head, looking at me in the faint light of the moon. Kneeing my legs open, he pushed the first bare inch inside me. He was scorching hot and silky soft.

“Eva,” he breathed, clutching me tightly to him. “I’ve never…Christ, you feel so good. I’m so glad you’re here.”

I tugged his lips down to mine and kissed him. “Me, too.”

I woke the way I’d fallen asleep, with Gideon on top of me and inside me. His gaze was heavy-lidded with desire as I rose from unconsciousness into heated pleasure. His hair hung around his shoulders and face, looking even sexier for being sleep-tousled. But best of all, there were no shadows in his gorgeous eyes, nothing lingering from the pain that haunted his dreams.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he murmured with a wicked grin, sliding in and out. “You’re warm and soft. I can’t help but want you.”

I stretched my arms over my head and arched my back, pressing my breasts into his chest. Through the slender arch-topped windows, I saw the soft light of dawn fill the sky. “Umm…I could get used to waking up like this.”

“That was my thought at three this morning.” He rolled his hips and sank deep into me. “I thought I’d return the favor.”

My body revved to life, my pulse quickening. “Yes, please.”

Cary was gone when we got to my apartment, leaving a note behind to tell me he was on a job, but would be back in plenty of time for pizza with Trey. Since I’d been too upset to enjoy my pie the night before, I was ready to try again when I was having a good time.

“I have a business dinner tonight,” Gideon said, leaning over my shoulder to read. “I was hoping you’d come with me and make it bearable.”

“I can’t bail out on Cary,” I said apologetically, turning to face him. “Chicks before dicks and all that.”

His mouth twitched and he caged me to the breakfast bar. He was dressed for work in a suit I’d picked out, a graphite gray Prada with a soft sheen. His tie was the blue one that matched his eyes, and as I’d lain on his bed and watched him dress, I’d had to fight the urge to take it all off him. “Cary isn’t a chick. But I get the point. I want to see you tonight. Can I come over after the dinner and stay the night?”

Heated anticipation rushed through me. I smoothed my hands over his vest, feeling like I had a special secret because I knew exactly what he looked like without his clothes on. “I’d love it if you did.”

“Good.” He gave a satisfied nod. “I’ll make us coffee, while you get dressed.”

“The beans are in the freezer. The grinder’s next to the coffee pot.” I pointed. “And I like lots of milk and a little sweetener.”

When I came out twenty minutes later, Gideon grabbed two travel mugs of coffee off the breakfast bar and we headed down to the lobby. Paul hustled us out the front door and into the backseat of Gideon’s waiting Bentley SUV.

As Gideon’s driver pulled into traffic, Gideon checked me out and said, “You’re definitely trying to kill me. Are you wearing the garters again?”

Pulling the hem of my skirt up, I showed him where the top of my black silk stockings hooked to my black lace garter belt.

His muttered curse made me smile. I’d chosen a black short-sleeved silk turtleneck sweater paired with a decently short pleated skirt in lipstick red and heeled Mary Janes. Because Cary hadn’t been around to manage something fancy with my hair, I’d pulled it back in a ponytail. “You like?”

“I’m hard.” His voice was husky, and he adjusted himself in his trousers. “How the hell am I going to get through the day thinking about you dressed like that?”

“There’s always lunch,” I suggested, fantasizing about a nooner on Gideon’s office couch.

“I have a business lunch today. I’d reschedule, if I hadn’t moved it already yesterday.”

“You rescheduled an appointment for me? I’m flattered.”

He reached over and brushed his fingertips over my cheek, a now-habitual gesture of affection that was tender and fiercely intimate. I was coming to depend on receiving those touches.

I leaned my cheek into his palm. “Can you carve fifteen minutes out of your day for me?”

“I’ll manage it.”

“Call me when you know the time.”

Taking a deep breath, I dug into my bag and wrapped my hand around a gift I wasn’t sure he’d want, but I couldn’t get the memory of his nightmare out of my head. I hoped that what I had for him would remind him of me and three
A.M.
sex, and help him cope. “I have something. I thought…”

It suddenly seemed conceited to give him what I’d brought.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” I exhaled in a rush. “Listen, I have something for you, but I just realized it’s one of those gifts—well, it’s not really a gift. I’m already thinking it’s not appropriate and—”

He thrust out his hand. “Give it to me.”

“You can totally decide not to take it—”

“Shut up, Eva.” He crooked his fingers. “Give it to me.”

I pulled it out of my bag and handed it over.

Gideon stared down at the framed photograph in complete silence. It was a novelty frame depicting die-cut images of things relating to graduation, including a digital clock face that read 3:00
A.M.
The picture was of me posing on Coronado Beach in a coral bikini with a big floppy straw hat—I was tanned, happy, and blowing a kiss to Cary, who’d playacted the role of a high-fashion photographer by calling out ridiculous encouragements.
Beautiful, dahling. Show me sassy. Show me sexy. Brilliant. Show me catty…rawr…

Embarrassed, I squirmed a little on the seat. “Like I said, you don’t have to keep—”

“I—” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Eva.”

“Ah, well…” I was grateful to see the Crossfire outside my window. I jumped out quickly when the driver pulled over and ran my hands over my skirt, feeling self-conscious. “If you want, I can hang on to it until later.”

Gideon shut the door of the Bentley and shook his head. “It’s mine. You’re not taking it back.”

He linked our fingers together and gestured toward the revolving door with the hand holding the frame. I warmed when I realized he intended to take my picture into work with him.

One of the fun things about the ad business was that no day was ever the same as the one before it. I was hopping all morning and was just beginning to contemplate what to do about lunch when my phone rang. “Mark Garrity’s office, Eva Tramell speaking.”

“I’ve got news,” Cary said by way of greeting.

“What?” I could tell by his voice that it was good news, whatever it was.

“I landed a Grey Isles campaign.”

“Oh my God! Cary, that’s awesome! I love their jeans.”

“What are you doing for lunch?”

I grinned. “Celebrating with you. Can you be here at noon?”

“I’m already on my way.”

I hung up and rocked back in my chair, so thrilled for Cary I felt like dancing. Needing something to do to kill the fifteen minutes remaining before my lunch break, I checked my inbox again and found a Google alert digest for Gideon’s name. Over thirty mentions, in just one day.

I opened the e-mail and freaked out a little at the numerous “mystery woman” headlines. I clicked on the first link and found myself landing on a gossip blog.

There, in living color, was a photo of Gideon kissing me senseless on the sidewalk outside of his gym. The accompanying article was short and to the point:

“Gideon Cross, New York’s most eligible bachelor since John F. Kennedy Jr., was spotted yesterday in a passionate public embrace. A source at Cross Industries identified the lucky mystery woman as socialite Eva Tramell, daughter of multimillionaire Richard Stanton and his wife, Monica. When queried about the nature of the relationship between Cross and Tramell, the source confirmed that Miss Tramell is ‘the significant woman’ in the mogul’s life at present. We imagine hearts are breaking across the country this morning.”