Reflected in You - Chapter 10

I stumbled back from the impact, nearly falling. The two men hit the asphalt with a sickening
thud. Someone yelled. A woman screamed. I could do nothing. I stood frozen and silent,
emotions twisting through me in a frenzied tangle.
Gideon pinned Brett by the throat and pummeled his ribs with a relentless series of blows.
He was like a machine, silent and unstoppable. Brett grunted with each brutal impact and
struggled to break free.
“Cross! Dio mio.”
I wept when Arnoldo appeared. He leaped forward, reaching for Gideon, only to scramble
back as Brett wrenched to the side and the two men rolled.
Brett’s bandmates pushed in through the growing crowd around the front of the buses,
prepared to brawl . . . until they saw who Brett was fighting with—the man with the money
behind their record label.
“Kline, you fuckhead!” Darrin, the drummer, gripped his own hair in both fists. “What the
hell are you doing?”
Brett broke free, lurched to his feet, and tackled Gideon into the side of a bus. Gideon
linked his hands and hammered Brett’s back like a club, forcing Brett to lurch away. Pressing
the advantage, Gideon lashed out with a roundhouse kick and followed with a lightning-quick
jab to the gut. Brett swung, his powerful biceps bunching with his fist, but Gideon ducked fluidly
and retaliated with an uppercut that snapped Brett’s head back.
Jesus.
Gideon didn’t make a sound, not when he struck out and not when Brett landed a direct
hit to his jaw. The quiet intensity of his fury was chilling. I could feel the rage pumping off him,
saw it in his eyes, but he remained controlled and eerily methodical. He’d disconnected in some
way, retreated to a place where he could objectively observe his body doing serious damage to
someone else.
I’d caused that. I had turned the warm, wickedly playful man who’d enchanted me all
evening into the cold, murderous fighter in front of me.
“Miss Tramell.” Angus grabbed my elbow.
I looked at him desperately. “You have to stop him.”
“Please, return to the limousine.”
“What?” I looked over and saw blood dripping from Brett’s nose. No one was intervening.
“Are you crazy?”
“We need to take Miss Ellison home. She’s your guest; you need to see to her.”
Brett swung and when Gideon feinted to the side, Brett rammed his other fist forward,
nailing Gideon in the shoulder and sending him backward a few steps.
I grabbed Angus by the arms. “What’s the matter with you?! Stop them!”
His pale blue eyes softened. “He knows when to stop, Eva.”
“Are you shitting me?!”
He looked over my shoulder. “Mr. Ricci, if you would, please.”
The next thing I knew, I was slung over Arnoldo’s shoulder and en route to the limo. Lifting
my head, I saw the circle of bystanders close in with my absence, blocking my view. I screamed
my frustration and pounded at Arnoldo’s back, but it didn’t faze him. He climbed right into the
back of the limo with me, and when Shawna hopped in a moment later, Angus shut the door as
if everything was totally fucking normal.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped at Arnoldo, scrambling for the door handle as the
limo rolled smoothly into motion. It wouldn’t open and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it to
unlock. “He’s your friend! You’re just going to leave him like that?”
“He’s your boyfriend.” The calm neutrality in Arnoldo’s voice cut me deep. “And you are the
one who left him like that.”
I slumped back into the seat, my stomach churning and my palms damp. Gideon . . .
“You’re the Eva in the song ‘Golden,’ aren’t you?” Shawna asked quietly, from her position
on the opposite bench seat.
Arnoldo started, obviously surprised by the connection. “I wonder if Gideon—” He sighed.
“Of course he knows.”
“That was a long time ago!” I said defensively.
“Not long enough, apparently,” he pointed out.
Desperate to get to Gideon, I couldn’t sit still. My feet tapped, my body battling against
restlessness so intense I felt like crawling out of my skin.
I’d hurt the man I loved and through him, another man who’d done nothing more than be
himself. And I had no good explanation for it. Looking back, I had no idea what had come over
me. Why hadn’t I pulled away sooner? Why had I kissed Brett back?
And what was Gideon going to do about it?
The thought that he might break up with me triggered overwhelming panic. I was sick with
worry. Was he hurt? God . . . the thought of Gideon in pain ate at me like acid. Was he in
trouble? He’d assaulted Brett. My palms went damp when I remembered Cary’s news that his
clusterfuck buddy also wanted to press assault charges.
Gideon’s life was spiraling out of control—because of me. At some point he was going to
realize I wasn’t worth the trouble.
I glanced at Shawna. She was looking out the window pensively. I’d blown her awesome
night. And Arnoldo’s, too. “I’m sorry.” I sighed miserably. “I screwed up everything.”
She looked at me and shrugged, then offered a sympathetic smile that made my throat
burn. “No big. I had a great time. I hope you work things out for the best.”
The best thing for me was Gideon. Had I blown that? Had I thrown away the most
important thing in my life over some weird, inexplicable head trip?
I still felt Brett’s mouth on mine. I scrubbed at my lips, wishing I could erase the last half
hour of my life as easily.
My anxiety made it feel like it took an eternity to drive Shawna home. I got out and gave
her a hug on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, for both earlier and then, because I was dying to get to Gideon—
wherever he was—and I was afraid my impatience showed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive Angus
or Arnoldo for taking me away when and how they did.
Arnoldo hugged Shawna and told her that she and Doug had a standing reservation for
Tableau One anytime. I softened a little toward him. He’d taken good care of her all night.
We climbed back into the limo and set off for the restaurant. I curled into a darkened
corner of the seat and cried silently, unable to contain the flood of despair overwhelming me.
When we arrived at the restaurant, I used my tank top to dry my face. Arnoldo stopped me
from getting out.
“Be gentle with him,” he scolded, staring hard at my face. “I have never seen him the way
he is with you. I can’t say you are worthy of him, but you can make him happy. I saw that
myself. Do it or walk. Don’t fuck with his head.”
I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat, so I nodded, hoping he could see in my eyes
how much Gideon meant to me. Everything.
Arnoldo disappeared into the restaurant. Before Angus shut the door, I slid forward on the
seat. “Where is he? I need to see him. Please.”
“He called.” Angus’s face was kind, which made me start crying again. “I’m taking you to
him now.”
“Is he okay?”
“I don’t know.”
I pushed back into the seat, feeling physically ill. I barely paid attention to where we were
headed, my only thought being that I needed to explain. I needed to tell Gideon that I loved
him, that I’d never leave him if he’d still have me, that he was the only man I wanted, the only
man who set my blood on fire.
Eventually, the car slowed and I looked out, realizing we’d returned to the amphitheater.
As I peered out the window, searching for him, the door behind me opened, startling me, and I
shifted around to see Gideon duck inside and settle on the opposite bench from me.
I lurched toward him. “Gideon—”
“Don’t.” His voice whipped with anger, sending me recoiling and falling on my rear. The limo
set into motion, jostling me.
Crying, I watched him pour a glass of amber liquor at the bar and toss it back. I waited on
the floorboards, my stomach churning with fear and grief. He refilled his glass before shutting
the bar and dropping back in his seat. I wanted to ask him if Brett was okay or badly hurt. I
wanted to ask how Gideon was, if he was injured or fine. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know if he would
take the questions the wrong way and assume my concern for Brett meant more than it did.
His face was impassive, his eyes hard as sapphires. “What is he to you?”
I swiped at the tears streaming down my face. “A mistake.”
“Then? Or now?”
“Both.”
His lip curled in a sneer. “You always kiss your mistakes like that?”
My chest heaved as I tried to stem the need to sob. I shook my head violently.
“You want him?” he asked tightly, before taking another drink.
“No,” I whispered. “I only want you. I love you, Gideon. So much it hurts.”
His eyes closed and his head fell back. I took the opportunity to crawl closer, needing to
bridge the physical distance between us, at least.
“Did you come for me when I had my fingers inside you, Eva? Or because of his goddamn
song?”
Oh my God . . . How he could doubt—?
I made him doubt. I did that. “You. You’re the only one who can get to me like that. Make
me forget where I am. Make it so I don’t care who’s around or what’s happening as long as
you’re touching me.”
“Isn’t that what happened when he kissed you?” Gideon’s eyes opened and focused on
me. “He’s had his dick in you. He’s fucked you . . . blown his load inside you.”
I cringed away from the horrible bitterness in his tone, the vicious nastiness. I knew just
how he felt. How badly the mental images could sting and claw until you felt like you were
going mad. In my mind, he and Corinne had fucked dozens of times while I watched in sick,
jealous fury.
He straightened suddenly, leaning forward to rub his thumb roughly across my lips. “He’s
had your mouth.”
I grabbed his glass and drank what was left in it, hating the harsh taste and searing burn. I
swallowed by force of will alone. My stomach roiled, protesting. The heat of the alcohol spread
outward from my gut.
Gideon sagged back into the seat, his arm thrown across his face. I knew he was still
seeing me kissing Brett. Knew it was eating a hole in his mind.
Dropping the glass on the floor, I surged between his legs and fumbled with his button fly.
He caught my fingers in an iron grip but kept his eyes covered with his forearm. “What the
fuck are you doing?”
“Come in my mouth,” I begged. “Wash it away.”
There was a long pause. He sat there, utterly still except for the heavy lift and fall of his
chest.
“Please, Gideon.”
With muttered curse, he released me, his hand falling limply to his side. “Do it.”
I rushed to get to him, my pulse pounding at the thought that he might change his mind
and deny me . . . that he might decide he was done with me. The only help he gave me was a
momentary lift of his hips, so I could yank his jeans and boxer briefs out of the way.
Then his big, beautiful cock was in my hands. My mouth. I moaned at the taste of him, at
the warmth and satiny softness of his skin, at the smell of him. I nuzzled my cheek against his
groin and balls, wanting his scent all over me, marking me as his. My tongue followed the thick
veins coursing the length of him, licking him up and down.
I heard his teeth grind when I sucked him with long drawing pulls, moans of apology and
bliss vibrating in my throat. It broke my heart that he was so silent, my vocal lover who always
talked dirty to me. Always told me what he wanted and needed . . . how good he felt when I
made love to him. He was holding himself back, denying me the satisfaction of knowing I
pleased him.
Pumping the thick root with my fist, I milked him, sucking on the plush crown, luring his precum
to the tip where I could lick it up with rapid flutters of my tongue. His thighs bunched, his
breath came in fierce pants. I felt him coil tight and I went wild, double-fisting him, my mouth
working so hard that my jaw ached. His spine straightened, his head lifting from the seat only
to slam backward as the first thick spurt exploded in my mouth.
I whimpered, his flavor igniting my senses, making me crave more. I swallowed convulsively,
my hands pulling and rubbing on his throbbing penis to lure more of his rich, creamy semen
onto my tongue. His body quaked as he came for long minutes, filling my mouth until he spilled
out of the sides of my lips. He made no sound, as unnaturally silent as he’d been during the
fight.
I would’ve sucked him off for hours. I wanted to, but he put both hands on my shoulders
and urged me away. I looked up into his heartrendingly gorgeous face, saw his eyes glittering in
the semidarkness. He touched my lips with his thumb, smearing his semen over and around the
swollen curves.
“Slide your tight cunt around me,” he ordered hoarsely. “I’ve got more to give you.”
Shaky and frightened by his harsh remoteness, I wriggled out of my boy shorts.
“Take it all off. Everything except the boots.”
I did as he said, my body quickening at his command. I’d do anything he wanted. I would
prove to him that I was his and only his. I would atone however he needed me to so he’d know I
loved him. I unzipped my skirt and pushed it off, then whipped my tank top over my head and
threw it on the opposite bench. My bra followed.
When I straddled him, Gideon caught my hips and looked up at me. “Are you wet?”
“Yes.”
“It turns you on to suck my cock.”
My nipples hardened further. The blunt, crude way he talked about sex turned me on, too.
“Always.”
“Why did you kiss him?”
The abrupt change in topic knocked me askew. My lower lip trembled. “I don’t know.”
He released me, reaching up and over his shoulders with both hands to grip the sides of
the headrest. His biceps bulged with the pose. I was aroused by the sight, as I was by
everything about him. I wanted to see his bare chest glistening with sweat, his abs tightening
and flexing as he pumped his cock into me.
I licked my lips, tasting him. “Take your shirt off.”
His gaze narrowed. “This isn’t for you.”
I stilled, my heart racing in my chest. He was using sex against me. In the limo where we’d
first made love, in the same position I’d first taken him . . . “You’re punishing me.”
“You’ve earned it.”
It didn’t matter that he was right. If I’d earned it, so had he.
I gripped the top of the seat back for balance and wrapped the fingers of my other hand
around his cock. He was still hard, still throbbing. A muscle in his neck twitched as I stroked him
in my fist, priming him. I placed the wide crest between the lips of my cleft, rubbing him back
and forth, coating him with the slickness of my desire.
My gaze never left his. I watched him as I teased us both, looking for any sign of the
passionate lover I adored. He wasn’t there. A furious stranger glared back at me, daring me,
taunting me with his detachment.
I let the first thick inch push inside me, spreading me open. Then I slammed my hips down,
crying out as he pierced me deep and stretched me almost unbearably.
“Jesus. Fuck,” he bit out, shuddering. “Goddamn it.”
His uncontrolled outburst spurred me. Digging my knees into the seat, I set my hands on
either side of his and lifted, pulling off him, my trembling sex clinging tightly. I pushed back
down, the glide easier now that he was wet from me. When my buttocks hit his thighs I found
his muscles hard as stone, his body giving away the lie—he wasn’t indifferent.
I lifted again, slowly, making us both feel every nuance of the delicious friction. When I
pushed back down, I tried to be as stoic as he was, but the sensation of fullness, the heated
connection, was too exquisite to contain. I moaned, and he shifted restlessly, his hips moving in
a delicious little circle before he could stop himself.
“You feel so good,” I whispered, stroking his raging cock with my eager, aching sex. Sliding
up and down. “You’re all I need, Gideon. All I want. You were made for me.”
“You forgot that,” he bit out, his knuckles white from his grip on the seat back.
I wondered if he was just holding on or physically restraining himself from reaching for me.
“Never. I could never forget. You’re a part of me.”
“Tell me why you kissed him.”
“I don’t know.” I rested my damp forehead against his, feeling the tears burning behind my
eyes. “God, Gideon. I swear I don’t know.”
“Then shut up and make me come.”
If he’d slapped my face, it couldn’t have shocked me more. I straightened and leaned away
from him. “Fuck you.”
“Now you’re getting the idea.”
Hot tears slid down my face. “Don’t treat me like a whore.”
“Eva.” His voice was low and raspy, filled with warning, but his eyes were dark and
desolate. Filled with pain that matched my own. “You want to stop, you know what to say.”
Crossfire. With one word I could unmistakably, irrefutably put an end to this agony. But I
couldn’t use it now. Just the fact that he brought up my safe word told me he was testing me.
Pushing me. He had an agenda, and if I gave up now, I’d never know what it was.
Reaching behind me, I set my hands on his knees. I arched my back and dragged my
soaked sex along the rigid length of his cock, then slammed back down. I adjusted the angle,
lifted and fell again, gasping at the feel of him. Mad as hell or not, my body worshipped his.
Loved the feel of him, the sense of rightness that was there despite the anger and hurt.
His breath was powering out of his lungs with every plunge of my hips. His body was hot,
so hot, radiating heat like a blast furnace. I pumped my hips. Up. Down. Taking the pleasure he
refused to give me. My thighs, buttocks, stomach, and core tightened with every lift, fisting him
from root to tip. They relaxed when I dropped, letting him sink deep.
I fucked him with everything I had, pounding myself onto his cock. His breath hissed out
between his clenched teeth. Then he was coming hard, jetting inside me so fiercely I felt each
scorching burst of semen like a separate thrust. I cried out, loving the feel of it, chasing an
orgasm that would shatter me. I was wound so tightly, my body desperate for release after
pleasing him twice.
But he moved, grabbing me by the waist and restraining my movements, holding himself
deep as he pumped me full. I choked off a scream when I realized he was deliberately
preventing me from coming.
“Tell me why, Eva,” he growled. “Why?”
“I don’t know!” I yelled, trying to grind my hips onto him, pounding his shoulders with my
fists when his grip tightened.
Holding me pinned to his pelvis and filled with his cock, Gideon pushed to his feet and
everything shifted. He pulled out of me, flipped me to face away from him, then bent me over
the edge of the seat with my knees on the floorboard. With one hand at the small of my back,
holding me down, he cupped my sex and rubbed, massaging his semen into my cleft. He spread
it around, coating me with it. My hips circled, seeking that perfect bit of pressure to get me
off . . .
He kept it from me. Deliberately.
The pounding in my clit and the needy clenching of my empty core was driving me mad,
my body hungry for release. He pushed two fingers into me and my nails dug into the black
leather seat. He finger-fucked me leisurely, sliding lazily in and out, keeping me on the edge.
“Gideon,” I sobbed, the sensitive tissues inside me rippling greedily around him. I was
coated in sweat, barely able to breathe. I began to pray for the car to stop, for us to reach our
destination, holding my breath in desperate anticipation of escape. But the limo never pulled
over. It kept driving and driving, and I was restrained so completely that I couldn’t rise up
enough to see where we were.
He folded over my back, his cock lying within the seam of my ass. “Tell me why, Eva,” he
crooned in my ear. “You knew I’d be coming after you . . . that I’d find you . . .”
My eyes squeezed shut, my hands clenching into fists. “I. Don’t. Know. Damn you! I don’t
fucking know!”
His fingers pulled free and then his cock was pushing into me. My sex spasmed around the
delicious hardness, sucking him deeper. I heard his breath catch on a muffled groan, and then
he was taking me.
I cried with the pleasure of it, my entire body shivering with delight as he fucked me
thoroughly, the wide head of his gorgeous penis rubbing and tugging at tender,
hyperstimulated nerves. The pressure built and built, brewing like a storm . . .
“Yes,” I gasped, stretched tight with anticipation.
He pulled out at the first grasp of my sex and left me hanging on the precipice again. I
screamed with frustration, fighting to get up and away from the lover who’d become the
source of unbearable torment.
He whispered in my ear like the devil himself. “Tell me why, Eva. Are you thinking of him
now? Are you wishing it were his cock inside you? Wishing it were his cock fucking your perfect
little cunt?”
I screamed again. “I hate you! You’re a sadistic, selfish son of a—”
He was in me again, filling me, stroking rhythmically into my quivering core.
Unable to stand it a minute longer, I struggled to reach my clit with my fingers, knowing a
single stroke would have me coming violently.
“No.” Gideon caught my wrists and held my hands down on the seat, his thighs between
my own, keeping my legs spread wide so he could sink deep. Over and over. The tempo of his
thrusts unfaltering and relentless.
I was thrashing, screaming, losing my mind. He could make me come with just his cock,
giving me an intense vaginal orgasm just from riding me at the right angle, rubbing his thick
crest over and over whatever spot I needed him to, a random place inside me he knew
instinctively every time he had me.
“I hate you,” I sobbed, tears of frustration wetting my face and the seat beneath my
cheek.
Bending over me, he gasped in my ear, “Tell me why, Eva.”
Fury boiled up inside me and spewed out. “Because you deserved it! Because you should
know what it feels like! How bad it hurts, you self-centered asshole!”
He stilled. I felt his breath heave out of him. My blood was roaring in my ears, so loudly that
at first I thought I was deliriously imagining his voice softening with tenderness.
“Angel.” His lips brushed over my shoulder blade, his hands releasing my wrists to slide
beneath me and cup my full, heavy breasts. “My stubborn, beautiful angel. Finally, we get to the
truth.”
Gideon lifted me up, straightening me. Exhausted, my head lolled against his shoulder, my
tears dripping onto my chest. I had nothing left to fight with, barely able to whimper when he
rolled an aching nipple between his fingertips and reached between my splayed legs. His hips
began to lunge, his cock pumping upward into me as he pinched the lips of my sex around my
throbbing clit and rubbed.
I came with a hoarse cry of his name, my entire body convulsing in fierce tremors as the
relief exploded through me. The orgasm lasted forever and Gideon was tireless, extending my
pleasure with the perfect thrusts I’d been so frantic for earlier.
When I finally collapsed in his arms, panting and soaked with sweat, he lifted me carefully
off him and placed me lengthwise on the bench seat. Shattered, I covered my face with my
hands, incapable of stopping him when he pushed my thighs apart and put his mouth on me. I
was soaked with his semen and he didn’t care, tonguing and suckling my clit until I came again.
And again.
My back arched with each orgasm, my breath soughing from my lungs. I lost track of how
many times I climaxed after they began rolling into each other, cresting and waning like the
tide. I tried to curl away from him, but he just straightened and yanked his shirt off, climbing
over me with one knee on the seat and the other leg extended to the floor. He placed his
hands on the window above my head, putting his body on display as he’d refused to do before.
I shoved at him. “No more! I can’t take any more.”
“I know.” His abs tightened as he slid into me, his eyes on my face as he pushed carefully
through swollen tissues. “I just want to be inside you.”
My neck arched as he slid deeper, a low sound escaping me because it felt sooo good. As
worn out and overstimulated as I was, I still craved to possess him and to be possessed by him.
I knew I always would.
Bending his head, he pressed his lips to my forehead. “You’re all I want, Eva. There’s no
one else. There will never be anyone else.”
“Gideon.” He understood, as I hadn’t, that the night had fallen apart because of my
jealousy and the deep-seated need I had to make him feel it for himself.
He kissed me softly, reverently, erasing every memory of anyone else’s lips on mine.
* * *
“Angel.” Gideon’s voice was a warm rasp in my ear. “Wake up.”
I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut tighter and burying my face deeper in his neck. “Leave
me alone, you sex fiend.”
His silent laughter shook me. He pressed a hard kiss to my forehead and wiggled out from
under me. “We’re here.”
Cracking one eye open, I watched him put his shirt back on. He’d never gotten out of his
jeans. I realized the sun was out. I sat up and looked out the windows, gasping when I saw the
ocean. We’d stopped for gas once but I hadn’t been able to get my bearings or figure out
where we were. Gideon had declined to tell me when I asked, saying only that it was a surprise.
“Where are we?” I breathed, thrilled by the sight of the sun climbing over the water. It had
to be solidly into morning. Maybe even midmorning.
“North Carolina. Lift your arms.”
I obeyed automatically, and he slid my tank top over my head. “I need my bra,” I muttered,
when I could see him again.
“No one’s here to see you but me and we’re going straight into the bathtub.”
I looked again at the weathered shingle-covered building we’d parked beside. It was at
least three stories, with wraparound decks and balconies on the front and sides, and a quaint
single-door entrance off the back. It stood on stilts at the shoreline, so close to the water that I
knew the tide must come up right beneath it. “How long have we been driving?”
“Almost ten hours.” Gideon slid my skirt up my legs and I stood, allowing him to twist it
straight and pull up the zipper. “Let’s go.”
He got out first, then held his hand out for me. The bracing, salty breeze hit my face,
waking me. The rhythmic surge of the ocean grounded me to the moment and where we were.
Angus was nowhere to be seen, which was a relief, since I was very aware of my lack of
underwear. “Angus drove all night?”
“We switched drivers when we stopped for gas.”
I looked at Gideon and my pulse stuttered at the tender, haunted way he was looking at
me. A shadow of a bruise marred his jaw and I reached up to touch it, my chest aching when he
nuzzled into my palm.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” I asked, feeling so emotionally raw after the long night we’d
had.
He caught my wrist and pulled my hand down to press flat over his heart. “Here.”
My love . . . It had been hard on him, too. “I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.” He kissed my fingertips, then linked our hands and led me up to the house.
The door was unlocked and he walked right in. A wire mesh basket sat on a console just
inside the door, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses tied with ribbon. As Gideon turned the
deadbolt with a firm click, I plucked the Welcome envelope out and opened it. A key fell into my
palm.
“We won’t be needing that.” He took the key from me and set it on the console. “For the
next two days, we’re going to be hermits together.”
A hum of pleasure warmed me from the inside, followed by more than a little awe that a
man like Gideon Cross could enjoy my company so much he didn’t need anyone else.
“Come on,” he said, tugging me toward the stairs. “We’ll break into that wine later.”
“Yeah. Coffee first.”
I took in the décor of the house. It was rustic on the outside and modern contemporary on
the inside. The wainscoted walls were painted a bright white and decorated with massive
black-and-white photos of seashells. The furniture was all white, and most of the accessory
pieces were glass and metal. It would have been stark if not for the gorgeous view of the
ocean and the color introduced in the area rugs covering the hardwood floors and the
collection of hardcover books filling built-in bookcases.
When we reached the top floor, I felt a flutter of happiness. The master suite was a totally
open space, with only two support columns to break it up. Bouquets of white roses, white
tulips, and white calla lilies covered nearly every flat surface, and some even sat on the floor in
strategic areas. The bed was massive and covered in white satin, which made me think of a
bridal suite, an impression reinforced by the black-and-white photo of a filmy scarf or veil
blowing in the breeze hanging over the headboard.
I looked at Gideon. “Have you been here before?”
He reached up and freed my now-lopsided ponytail. “No. What reason would I have to
come here?”
Right. He didn’t take women anywhere but his hotel fuck pad—that he apparently still had.
My eyes closed wearily as he ran his fingers through the loosened tresses of my hair. I didn’t
have the energy to get riled up about that.
“Take your clothes off, angel. I’ll start the bath.”
He backed up. I opened my eyes and caught him by the shirt. I didn’t know what to say; I
just didn’t want him to go.
He understood, because he got me.
“I’m not going anywhere, Eva.” Gideon cupped my jaw in his hands and stared into my
eyes, showing me the intensity and laser focus that had snared me from the first. “If you
wanted him, it wouldn’t be enough for me to let you go. I want you too much. I want you with
me, in my life, in my bed. If I can have that, nothing else matters. I’m not too proud to take what
I can get.”
I swayed into him, drawn to his obsessive and insatiable raw need for me, which reflected
the depth of my need for him. My hand fisted in the cotton of his T-shirt.
“Angel,” he breathed, lowering his head to press his cheek to mine. “You can’t let me go,
either.”
He swept me up in his arms and carried me into the bathroom with him.

Categories: Reflected in You