Crossfire 01 Bared to You (30 page)

Tugging me close, Gideon pressed his lips to my brow. His hands moved through my hair to unclip my tortoise barrette. “I didn’t get you off.”

“No need.” I loved the feel of his hands on my scalp. “That rocked just the way it was.”

He was overly focused on fixing my hair, his cheeks flushed from his orgasm. “I know you need an even exchange,” he argued gruffly. “I can’t let you leave feeling like I used you.”

A bittersweet tenderness pierced me. He’d listened. He cared.

I cupped his face in my hands. “You did use me, with my permission, and it was seriously hot. I wanted to give you this, Gideon. Remember? I warned you. I wanted you to have this memory of me.”

His eyes widened with alarm. “Why the fuck do I need memories when I have you? Eva, if this is about the photo—”

“Shut up and enjoy the high.” We didn’t have the time to get into the photo issue now and I didn’t want to. It was going to ruin everything. “If we’d had an hour, I still wouldn’t let you get me off. I’m not keeping score with you, ace. And honestly, you’re the first guy I can say that to. Now, I have to go. You have to go.”

I started away again, but he caught me back.

Scott’s voice came through the speaker. “Excuse me, Mr. Cross. But your three o’clock is here.”

“It’s
okay,
Gideon,” I assured him. “You’re coming over tonight, right?”

“Nothing could keep me away.”

I shoved up onto my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “We’ll talk then.”

After work, I took the stairs down to the ground floor to feel less guilty about skipping the gym and seriously regretted it by the time I reached the lobby. Lack of sleep from the night before had left me wiped out. I was contemplating taking the subway rather than walking when I saw Gideon’s Bentley at the curb. When the driver got out and greeted me by name, I halted abruptly, surprised.

“Mr. Cross asked that I take you home,” he said, looking smart in his black suit and chauffeur hat. He was an older gentleman with graying red hair, pale blue eyes, and the softest of cultured accents.

As much as my legs ached, I was grateful for the offer. “Thank you…? I’m sorry—what was your name?”

“Angus, Miss Tramell.”

How had I not remembered that? The name was so cool, it made me smile. “Thank you, Angus.”

He tipped his hat. “My pleasure.”

I slid through the back door he opened for me and as I settled into the seat, I caught a glimpse of the handgun he wore in a shoulder holster beneath his jacket. It appeared that Angus, like Clancy, was both bodyguard and driver.

We pulled away from the curb and I asked, “How long have you been working for Mr. Cross, Angus?”

“Eight years now.”

“Quite a while.”

“I’ve known him longer than that,” he volunteered, catching my gaze in the rearview mirror. “I drove him to school when he was a boy. He hired me away from Mr. Vidal when the time came.”

Once again, I tried to picture Gideon as a child. No doubt he’d been beautiful and charismatic even then.

Had he enjoyed “normal” sexual relationships when he was a teenager? I couldn’t imagine that women weren’t throwing themselves at him even then. And as innately sexual as he was, I imagined he’d been a horny teen.

Digging in my purse, I pulled out my keys and leaned forward to set them on the front passenger seat. “Can you see that Gideon gets those? He’s supposed to come over after whatever it is he’s doing tonight and depending on how late that is, I might not hear him knock.”

“Of course.”

Paul opened the door for me when we arrived at my apartment and he greeted Angus by name, reminding me that Gideon owned the building. I waved to both men, told the front desk Gideon would be coming over later, and then took myself upstairs. Cary’s raised brows when he opened the door to me made me laugh.

“Gideon’s coming over later,” I explained, “but I’m feeling so hammered right now I may not stay up long. So I gave him my keys to let himself in. Did you order already?”

“I did. And I tossed a few bottles of Cristal in the wine fridge.”

“You’re the best.” I shoved my bag at him.

I showered and called my mom from the phone in my room, wincing at her strident, “I have been trying to reach you
for days
!”

“Mom, if it’s about Gideon Cross—”

“Well, of course, it’s partly about him! For goodness’ sake, Eva. You’re being called the significant woman in his life. How could I not want to talk about that?”

“Mom—”

“But there’s also the appointment you asked me to make with Dr. Petersen.” The note of smug amusement in her voice made me smile. “We’re scheduled to meet with him Thursday at six o’clock in the evening. I hope that works for you. He doesn’t do many evening appointments.”

I plopped backward onto my bed with a sigh. I’d been so distracted by work and Gideon that the appointment had slipped my mind. “Thursday at six will be fine. Thank you.”

“Now, then. Tell me about Cross…”

When I emerged from my bedroom dressed in jersey pants and a San Diego State University sweatshirt, I found Trey seated with Cary in the living room. Both men stood when I came in and Trey gifted me with an open, friendly smile.

“I’m sorry I look so ragged,” I said sheepishly, running my fingers through my damp ponytail. “Taking the stairs at work almost killed me today.”

“Elevator take the day off?” he asked.

“Nope. My brain did. What the hell was I thinking?” Spending the night with Gideon was enough of a workout.

The doorbell rang and Cary went to get it while I headed into the kitchen for the Cristal. I joined him at the breakfast bar as he signed the credit card receipt and the look in his eyes when he glanced at Trey had me hiding a smile.

There were a lot of those looks going back and forth between the two men as the evening progressed. And I had to agree with Cary that Trey was a hottie. Dressed in distressed jeans, matching vest, and a long-sleeved shirt, the aspiring veterinarian looked casual but well put together. He was very different personality-wise from the type of guy Cary usually dated. Trey seemed more grounded; not quite somber, but definitely not flighty. I thought he’d be a good influence on Cary, if they stayed together long enough.

The three of us made it through two bottles of Cristal and two pizzas between us, plus all of
Demolition Man
before I called it a night. I urged Trey to stay for
Driven
to round out the Stallone mini-marathon; then I went to my room and changed into a sexy black baby doll I’d been given as part of a bridesmaid gift bag—sans the matching panties.

Leaving a candle burning for Gideon, I crashed.

I woke to darkness and the scent of Gideon’s skin, the lights and sounds of the city shut out by soundproofed windows and blackout drapes.

Gideon slid over me, a moving shadow, his bare skin cool to the touch. His mouth slanted over mine, kissing me slow and deeply, tasting of mint and his own unique flavor. My hands slid down his sleekly muscular back, my legs parting so he could settle comfortably between them. The weight of him against me made my heart sigh and my blood warm with desire.

“Well, hello to you, too,” I said breathlessly when he let me up for air.

“You’ll come with me next time,” he murmured in that sexy and decadent voice, nibbling at my throat.

“Will I?” I teased.

He reached down and cupped my butt in his hand, squeezing and lifting me into a deft roll of his hips. “Yes. I missed you, Eva.”

I ran my fingers through his hair, wishing I could see him. “You haven’t known me long enough to miss me.”

“Shows how much you know,” Gideon scoffed, sliding downward and nuzzling between my breasts.

I gasped as his mouth covered my nipple and sucked through the satin, deep pulls that echoed in the clenching of my core. He moved to my other breast, his hand pushing up the hem of my baby doll. I arched into him, lost to the magic of his mouth as it moved over my body, his tongue dipping into my navel, then sliding lower.

“And you missed me, too,” he purred with masculine satisfaction, the tip of his middle finger rimming my cleft. “You’re swollen and wet for me.”

He pulled my legs over his shoulders and licked between my folds, soft and provocative laps of hot velvet against my sensitive flesh. My hands fisted in the sheet, my chest heaving as he circled my clit with the tip of his tongue, then nudged the hypersensitive knot of nerves. I keened, my hips moving restlessly into the devious torment, my muscles tightening with the clawing need to come.

The light, teasing flutters were driving me insane, giving me just enough to make me writhe but not enough to get me off. “Gideon, please.”

“Not yet.”

He tortured me, coaxing my body to the brink of orgasm, and then letting me slide back down. Over and over. Until sweat misted my skin and my heart felt like it would burst. His tongue was tireless and diabolical, cleverly focusing on my clit until a single stroke would set me off, then moving lower to thrust into me. The soft, shallow plunges were maddening, the flickering against the nerve-laden tissues making me desperate enough to beg shamelessly.