Day, Sylvia - Bared to You - A Crossfire Novel

I gasped as his mouth covered my nipple and sucked through the satin, deep pul s that echoed in the clenching of my core. He moved to my other breast, his hand pushing up the hem of my baby dol . 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 swol en and wet for me.” He pul ed 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, shal ow plunges were maddening, the flickering against the nerve-laden tissues making me desperate enough to beg shamelessly.

“Please, Gideon…let me come…I need to come, please.”

“Shh, angel…I’l take care of you.”

He finished me with a tenderness that made the orgasm rol through me like a crashing wave, building and swel ing and spreading through me in a warm rush of pleasure.

He threaded his fingers with mine when he came over me again, restraining my arms. The head of his cock aligned with the slick entrance of my body and he pushed inexorably into me. I moaned, shifting to accommodate the heavy surge of his penis.

Gideon’s breath gusted hard and humid against my throat, his big frame trembling as he slid careful y inside me. “You’re so soft and warm. Mine, Eva. You’re mine.”

I wrapped my legs around his hips, welcoming him deeper, feeling his buttocks flex and release against my calves as he demonstrated to my body that it would indeed take his thick length al the way to the root.

With our hands linked, he took my mouth and began to move, gliding in and out with languid skil , the tempo precise and relentless yet smooth and easy. I felt every rock-hard inch of him, felt the unmistakable reiteration that every inch of me was his to possess. He drove the message home repeatedly until I was gasping against his mouth, thrashing restlessly beneath him, my hands bloodless from the strength of my grip on his.

He spoke heated praise and encouragement, tel ing me how beautiful I was…how perfect I felt to him…how he’d never stop…couldn’t stop. I came with a sharp cry of relief, vibrating with the ecstasy of it, and he was right there with me. His pace quickened for several slamming thrusts; then he climaxed with a hiss of my name, spil ing into me.

I sank lax into the mattress, sweaty and boneless and replete.

“I’m not done,” he whispered darkly, adjusting his knees to increase the force of his thrusts. The pace remained expertly measured, each plunge staking a claim— your body exists to serve me.

Biting my lip, I fought back the sounds of helpless pleasure that might’ve broken the tranquility of the night…and betrayed the frightening depths of emotion I was beginning to feel for Gideon Cross.

Gideon found me in the shower the next morning. He strode into the master bath gloriously nude, moving with that sleek confident grace I’d admired from the beginning. His hair framed his face and shoulders in a sexy disheveled mane, a look that screamed a woman had clenched the rough black silk in greedy hands.

Watching the flexing of his muscles as he moved, I didn’t even pretend not to stare at the magnificent package between his legs.

Despite the heat of the water, my nipples beaded tight and goose bumps raced across my skin.

His knowing smile as he joined me told me he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on me. I retaliated by running soapy hands al over his godlike body; then sitting on the bench and sucking him off with such enthusiasm he had to support himself with both palms pressed flat against the tile.

His raw, raspy instructions echoed in my mind the entire time I dressed for work, which I did quickly—

before he had a chance to finish his shower and fuck the hel out of me as he’d threatened to just before spurting fiercely down my throat.

He’d had no nightmares during the night. Sex as a sedative seemed to be working, and I was extremely grateful for that.

“I hope you don’t think you’ve gotten away,” he said when he prowled after me into the kitchen.

Immaculately dressed in a black pinstriped suit, he accepted the cup of coffee I handed him and gave me a look that promised al sorts of wicked things. I saw him in his supremely civilized attire and thought of the insatiable male who’d slipped into my bed during the night. My blood quickened. I was sore, my muscles thrumming with remembered pleasure, and I was stil thinking about more.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he warned, leaning casual y into the counter and sipping his coffee. “See what happens.”

“I’m going to lose my job over you.”

“I’d give you another one.”

I snorted. “As what? Your sex slave?”

“What a provocative suggestion. Let’s discuss.”

“Fiend,” I muttered, rinsing out my mug in the sink and putting it in the dishwasher. “Ready? For work ?” He finished his coffee and I held out my hand for his mug, but he bypassed me and rinsed it out himself.

Another mortal task that made him seem accessible, less of a fantasy I’d never have a chance of holding on to.

He faced me. “I want to take you out to dinner tonight, and then take you home to my bed.”

“I don’t want you to burn out on me, Gideon.” He was a man used to being alone, a man who hadn’t had a meaningful physical relationship in a long time, if ever.

How long before his flight instincts kicked in? Besides, we real y needed to stay out of the public eye as a couple…

“Don’t make excuses.” His features hardened. “You don’t get to decide I can’t do this.”

I kicked myself for offending him. He was trying and I needed to make sure he got credit for that, not discouragement. “That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want to crowd you. Plus we stil need to—”

“Eva.” He sighed, the hard tension leaving him with that frustrated exhalation. “You have to trust me. I’m trusting you. I’ve had to or we wouldn’t be here now.” Okay. I nodded, swal owing hard. “Dinner and your place it is, then. I honestly can’t wait.” Gideon’s words about trust lingered in my mind al morning, which was a good thing when the Google alert digest hit my inbox.

There was more than one photo this time around.

Each article and blog post had several shots of me and Cary hugging good-bye outside the restaurant where we’d had lunch the day before. The captions speculated on the nature of our relationship and some noted that we lived together. Others suggested I was reeling in “bil ionaire playboy Cross” while keeping my up-and-coming model boyfriend on the side.