Day, Sylvia - Bared to You - A Crossfire Novel

I stabbed my fork into a German fried potato, thinking that Peter Luger food was almost as good as sex. Almost. “I’m interested in your money only if it means you can afford to stop working in favor of lounging around naked as my sex slave.”

“I could afford to financial y, yes. But you’d get bored and dump me, then where would I be?” His look was warmly amused. “Think you proved your point, do you?”

I chewed, and then said, “Should I prove it again?”

“The fact that you’re stil horny enough to want to proves my point.”

“Hmm.” I drank my wine. “Are you projecting?” He shot me a look and casual y chewed another bite of the tenderest steak I’d ever had.

Restless and worried, I took a deep breath and asked, “Would you tel me if our sex life didn’t satisfy you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Eva.”

What else could have prompted him to bring this up after our four-day breakup? “I’m sure it doesn’t help that I’m not the type you usual y go for. And we haven’t used any of those toys you had in the hotel—”

“Stop talking.”

“Excuse me?”

Gideon set his utensils down. “I’m not going to listen to you shred your self-esteem.”

“What? You’re the only one who gets to do al the talking?”

“You can pick a fight with me, Eva, but it’s stil not going to get you fucked.”

“Who said—” I shut up when he glared. He was right. I stil wanted him. I wanted him on top of me, explosively lustful, completely in control of both my pleasure and his.

Pushing away from the table, he said curtly, “Wait here.”

When he returned a moment later, he set a black leather ring box beside my plate and resumed his seat. The sight of it hit me like a physical blow. Fear struck me first, icy cold. Fol owed swiftly by a longing that was white-hot.

My hands shook in my lap. I clasped my fingers together and realized my whole body was shaking.

Lost, I lifted my gaze to Gideon’s face.

The feel of his fingertips brushing down my cheek soothed much of the vibrating anxiety inside me, leaving behind the terrible yearning.

“It’s not that ring,” he murmured gently. “Not yet.

You’re not ready.”

Something inside me wilted. Then relief flooded me.

It was too soon. Neither of us was ready. But if I’d ever wondered how deeply I had fal en in love with Gideon, now I knew.

I nodded.

“Open it,” he said.

With cautious fingers, I pul ed the box closer and thumbed open the lid. “Oh.”

Nestled inside the black leather and velvet was a ring like no other. Gold rope-like bands were intertwined and decorated with Xs covered in diamonds.

“Bonds,” I murmured, “secured by crosses.” Gideon Cross .

“Not quite. I see the ropes as representative of the many threads of you, not bondage. But yes, the Xs are me holding on to you. By my fingernails, it feels like.” He finished his glass of wine and refil ed both our glasses.

I sat unmoving, stunned, trying to take it al in.

Everything he’d done in the time we’d been apart—the photos, the ring, Dr. Petersen, the replicated bedroom, and whoever had been fol owing me around—told me I’d never been far from his mind, if I’d even left it at al .

“You gave me my keys back,” I whispered, stil remembering the pain.

His hand reached out and covered mine. “There are a lot of reasons why I did that. You left me wearing nothing but a robe, Eva, and without your keys. I can’t stand thinking about what could’ve happened if Cary hadn’t been home to let you in right away.” Lifting his hand to my mouth, I kissed the back; then released him and closed the lid of the ring box. “It’s beautiful, Gideon. Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

“But you won’t wear it.” It wasn’t a question.

“After the conversation we’ve had tonight, it feels like a col ar.”

After a moment, he nodded. “You’re not altogether wrong.”

My brain hurt and my heart ached. Four nights of restless sleeping didn’t help. I couldn’t understand why he felt I was so necessary, even though I felt that way about him. There were thousands of women in New York alone who could replace me in his life, but there was only one Gideon Cross.

“I feel like I’m disappointing you, Gideon. After everything we’ve talked about tonight…I feel like this is the beginning of the end.”

Pushing his chair back, he angled toward me and touched my cheek. “It’s not.”

“When do we see Dr. Petersen?”

“I’l go alone on Tuesdays. After you talk to him and agree to couples counseling, we can go together on Thursdays.”

“Two hours of your week, every week. Not including the travel back and forth. That’s a big commitment.” I reached up and brushed the hair back from his cheek.

“Thank you.”

Gideon caught my hand and kissed the palm. “It’s no sacrifice, Eva.”

He went into his office to work a bit before bed and I

carried the ring box into the master bathroom with me.

I studied it further while I brushed my teeth and hair.

There was a soft hum of need beneath my skin, a persistent level of arousal that shouldn’t have been possible considering the number of orgasms I’d already had over the course of the day. It was an emotional y driven need to connect to Gideon, to reassure myself that we were okay.

Clutching the ring box in my hand, I went to my side of Gideon’s bed and set it on the nightstand. I wanted it where I’d see it first thing in the morning, after a good night’s sleep.

With a sigh, I draped my beautiful new robe over the footboard and crawled into bed. After tossing and turning for a long while, I final y crashed.

I woke sometime in the middle of the night to a racing pulse and quick, shal ow breathing. Disoriented, I lay stil for a moment, gathering my bearings and remembering where I was. I tensed when it sank in, my ears straining to hear if Gideon was having another nightmare. When I discovered him lying quietly beside me, his breathing deep and even, I relaxed with a sigh.

What time had he final y come to bed? After the days we’d spent apart, it worried me that he might have felt a need to be alone.

Then it hit me. I was aroused . Painful y so.

My breasts were ful and heavy, my nipples furled and tight. My core was aching and my cleft wet. As I lay there in the moonlit darkness, I realized that my own body had woken me with its demands. Had I dreamed something erotic? Or was it enough that Gideon was lying beside me?

Pushing up onto my elbows, I looked at him. The sheet and comforter clung to his waist, leaving his sculpted chest and biceps bared. His right arm was tossed over his head, framing the fal of dark hair around his lavishly handsome face. His left arm lay between us on the blankets, the hand fisted and bringing to relief the network of thick veins that coursed up his forearms. Even in repose he looked fierce and powerful.

I became more aware of the tension inside me, the sense that I was drawn to him by the silent exertion of his formidable wil . It wasn’t possible that he could demand my surrender while he was sleeping, yet it felt that way, felt like that invisible rope between us was pul ing me to him.

The throbbing between my legs grew unbearable and I pressed one hand against the violent pulsing, hoping to dul the ache. The pressure worsened it instead.

I couldn’t stay stil . Throwing the covers off, I slid my legs off the side of the mattress and thought about trying a glass of warm milk with the brandy Gideon had given me earlier. Abruptly, I paused, riveted by the moonlight gleaming off the leather of the ring box on the nightstand. I thought of the jewelry inside it and my desire surged. At that moment, the thought of being col ared by Gideon fil ed me with heated yearning.