Captivated by You (Crossfire#4) (19 page)

“It’s not the past she’s thinking of.” He set his hand briefly on my shoulder. “It’s the future.”

I found Eva pacing in Dr. Petersen’s office, her hands waving as she spoke. The good doctor sat in

his customary chair, his attention on his tablet as he took notes.

“The whole situation makes me so mad,” she seethed. Then she caught sight of me standing in the

doorway and paused midstride.

“Gideon.” A brilliant smile lit up her beautiful face.

There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to put that happy look on her. The fact that she smiled like that just because she saw me …

“Eva. Doctor.” I took a seat on the sofa. How much had she told him?

Dr. Petersen followed me with his gaze. “Hello, Gideon. I’m glad you could join us after all.”

I patted the cushion next to me and waited for Eva to sit.

“We’re making plans to move back into the penthouse on Fifth with Cary,” I said smoothly once

she’d settled beside me, deflecting the conversation into territory I was more comfortable addressing.

“I expect it will be a rocky transition for all of us.”

Eva gaped.

Dr. Petersen set his stylus down. “Eva was just telling me about a visit with your stepfather. I

would like to hear more about that before we move on.”

I linked my fingers with Eva’s. “It’s not open for discussion.”

She stared at me. I turned my head to meet her gaze and my breath left me in a pained rush.

The new look on her face made me ache for a different reason altogether.

The session had barely started and already it couldn’t end soon enough for me.

I told Angus to take us home—to the penthouse.

It was obvious Eva was lost in her own thoughts by the surprise she displayed when the valet

opened the door for her. We were in the subterranean garage beneath the building.

She glanced at me.

“I’ll explain,” I told her, as I took her elbow and led her to the elevator.

We rode up in silence. When the car doors opened into our private foyer, I felt her tense beneath

my hand. We hadn’t been to the penthouse together in nearly a month. The last time we’d been in the

foyer had been the night she confronted me about Nathan’s death.

I’d been afraid then, too. Terrified I had done something she couldn’t forgive me for.

We’d had many explosive moments here. The penthouse hadn’t seen as much joy and love between

us as the secret apartment on the Upper West Side. But we would change that. One day, we would

look back and this place would remind us of all the steps in our journey together, good and bad. I

refused to envision anything else.

I opened the door, gesturing her in before me. She dropped her purse into an armchair and kicked

off her shoes. I shrugged out of my jacket, hung it on the back of one of the bar stools in the kitchen, and then pulled a shiraz off the wine rack.

“You’re disappointed in me,” I called out, uncorking the wine.

Eva padded to the open archway and leaned against the tumbled stone. “No, not in you.”

Retrieving a decanter and two glasses, I considered my reply. It was difficult bargaining with my

wife. In every other deal, I went in with the knowledge that I could take it or leave it. There was no agreement anywhere I couldn’t walk away from.

Except those that endangered my hold on Eva.

As I poured the wine from its bottle into the decanter, she joined me at the island.

Her hand came to rest on my shoulder. “We haven’t been together long, Gideon, and you’ve come

so far already. I’m not going to push you to go farther so soon. These things take time.”

I let the decanted wine sit and turned to face her, pulling her close. She’d felt so far away the last hour or so and the distance had been killing me.

“Kiss me,” I murmured.

Tilting her head back, Eva lifted her mouth to me. I pressed my lips to hers but otherwise did

nothing else, wanting her to be the one to reach out. Needing her to be.

The stroke of her tongue over the seam of my lips made me groan. The feel of her fingers sliding

into the hair at my nape soothed me. There was an apology in the softness of her lips gliding across mine and love in her quiet moan of surrender.

I caught her up, lifting her feet from the floor, so relieved she still wanted me that I felt dizzy with it. “Eva … I’m sorry.”

“Shh, baby, it’s okay.” She pulled back and touched my face, cupping it in both hands. “You don’t

have to apologize to me.”

The back of my throat burned. I lifted her onto the counter, stepping between her spread legs. Her

skirt rose up, baring the ends of her garters. I wanted her. In every way.

My forehead touched hers. “You’re upset that I didn’t want to talk about Chris.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to avoid it so completely, that’s all.” She kissed my brow, her fingers

brushing the hair from my face. “I should’ve considered the possibility, considering how angry you

were when we left the Crossfire.”

“Not with you.”

“At Chris?”

“At the situation.” I exhaled roughly. “You’re expecting people to change and that doesn’t happen.

In the meantime, you’re stirring up trouble at a time when we’ve got enough on our plates. I just want to have some peace with you, Eva. Days when we’re alone and happy and free of any bullshit.”

“And nights where you go to sleep in another bed? In another room?”

My eyes squeezed shut. “Is that what this is all about?”

“Not completely, but some of it, yeah. Gideon, I want to be with you. Waking and sleeping.”

“I understand, but—”

“That peace you’re looking for? You’re pretending you have it during the day and suffering without

it at night. It’s tearing you up from the inside, and it’s shredding me watching it happen to you. I don’t want you to live like this forever. I don’t want
us
to live forever like this.”

I looked at her, my soul bared to those amazing steel-colored eyes that didn’t let me hide anything.

There was so much love in the look she gave me. Love and worry, disappointment and hope. The

pendant lamps over the island backlit her blond hair, reminding me of how precious she was. A gift

I’d never expected.

“Eva … I am talking to Dr. Petersen about the nightmares.”

“But not about what’s causing them.”

“You’re assuming Hugh is the problem,” I said evenly, feeling the burn of hatred and humiliation in

my gut. “We’ve been talking about my father instead.”

She pulled back. “Ace … I don’t know exactly what’s in your dreams, but I’ve seen you wake up in

two different ways: ready to beat up someone or crying like your heart is breaking. When you come

out swinging, the things you say make me damn near certain you’re fighting off Hugh.”

I sucked in a quick, deep breath. It infuriated me that my former therapist—and molester—could

reach out from the grave and touch Eva through me.

“Listen.” She wrapped her legs around my hips. “I said I wasn’t going to push you and I meant it. If we were two years into our relationship, I’d put up a fuss, maybe. But it’s only been a few months,

Gideon. The fact that you’re seeing someone and talking about your dad is enough for now.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. But there are things we can never discuss that are haunting you, too. Dr. Petersen is already

working with a handicap because of that. The more you keep from him, the less he can help.”

Nathan. She didn’t have to say the name.

“I’m making an effort, Eva.”

“I know.” Her hands smoothed over my shoulders, then reached for the buttons of my vest. “Just

tell me that you’re not hoping to avoid talking about it forever. Tell me you’re just working up to it.”

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.”

“What if he didn’t know?”

“So what?” I set the plate in the sink, the lingering smell of food making my stomach roil. “What

the fuck does it matter now? It’s done, Eva. Done and over with. Let it go.”

“Why are you so mad?”

“Because I was settled in for the night with my wife. Dinner, wine, a little TV, a couple hours

making love … after a long, rough day.” I left the kitchen. “Forget it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Gideon, wait.” She grabbed my arm. “Don’t go to bed pissed. Please. I’m sorry.”

I paused and removed her hand from my arm. “So am I.”

“START out slow,” he whispers, his lips near my ear.

I can feel him becoming excited. He reaches around my hip to where I’m stroking my penis. His

hand covers mine. His breath is quick and shallow. His erection brushes against my buttocks.

My stomach feels sick. I’m sweating. I can’t stay hard, even as my oiled fist slides up and down,
guided by his.

“You’re
thinking too much,” he tells me. “Concentrate on how good it feels. Look at that woman
in front of you. She wants you to fuck her. Imagine how it’d feel to push your cock into her. Soft.

Hot. Wet. And tight.” His grip closes harder over mine. “So tight.”

I look at the centerfold spread over the top of my toilet’s water tank. She’s got dark hair and

blue eyes, and her legs are long. They always look like that, the women in the pictures Hugh

brings.

He pants in my ear, and the sickness is back. Wrong. There’s something wrong with me.
This

feels wrong. His eagerness makes me feel dirty. Bad. I’m a bad boy, even Mom says so. She yells it
at me when she’s crying, when she’s angry with me about Dad.

A low moan cuts through the sound of his heavy breaths. It’s me making that noise. It feels good,
even though I don’t want it to.

It’s hard to breathe, to think, to fight …

“That’s it,” he coaxes. His other hand pushes between my buttocks.