Entwined with You: A Crossfire Novel
Entwined with You: Chapter 20

IT WAS WEIRD going to work on Monday morning and having no one realize my life was profoundly different. Who knew how much saying a few words and slipping on a ring of metal could change a person’s perception of themselves?

I wasn’t just Eva, the New York newbie trying to make it on her own in the big city with her best friend. I was a mogul’s wife. I had a whole new set of responsibilities and expectations. Just thinking about it intimidated me.

Megumi stood as she buzzed me through the security doors at Waters Field & Leaman. She was dressed with unusual sedateness in a black sleeveless dress with an asymmetrical hemline and bright fuchsia heels. “Wow. You’ve got an amazing tan! I’m so jealous.”

“Thanks. How’d your weekend go?”

“Same old, same old. Michael stopped calling.” Her nose wrinkled. “I miss the harassment. Made me feel wanted.”

I shook my head at her. “You’re nuts.”

“I know. So tell me where you went. And did you go with the rock star or Cross?”

“My lips are sealed.” Although I was tempted to reveal everything. The only thing that held me back was that I hadn’t told Cary yet and he needed to come first.

“No way!” Her dark eyes narrowed. “Are you seriously not going to tell me?”

“Of course I will.” I winked. “Just not right now.”

“I know where you work, you know,” she called after me as I headed down the hallway to my cubicle.

When I reached my desk, I got ready to type a quick text to Cary and discovered that he’d sent me a few over the weekend that hadn’t come through until later. They certainly hadn’t been there when I’d placed my usual Saturday call to my dad.

Wanna have lunch? I texted.

When I didn’t get a reply right away, I silenced my phone and set it in my top drawer.

“Where did you spend the weekend?” Mark asked me as he came in to work. “You’ve got a great tan.”

“Thanks. I lazed it up in the Caribbean.”

“Really? I’ve been scoping out the islands for possible honeymoon spots. Would you recommend it for that, wherever you stayed?”

I laughed, happier than I’d been in long time. Maybe in forever. “Absolutely.”

“Get me the deets. I’ll add the spot to the list of possibilities.”

“You have honeymoon scouting duty?” I stood so we could grab coffee together before we started the day.

“Yep.” Mark’s mouth quirked on one side. “I’ll leave the wedding stuff to Steven, since he’s been planning for so long. But the honeymoon is mine.”

He sounded so happy, and I knew just how he felt. His good mood made the start of my day even better.

* * *

THE smooth sailing ended when Cary called my desk phone shortly after ten o’clock.

“Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered. “Eva Tramell—”

“—needs an ass-kicking,” Cary finished. “I can’t remember the last time I was this mad at you.”

I frowned, my stomach tightening. “Cary, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not going to talk about important shit on the phone, Eva, unlike some people I know. I’ll meet you for lunch. And just so you’re aware, I turned down a go-see this afternoon to set you straight, because that’s what friends do,” he said angrily. “They make time in their schedule to talk about things that matter. They don’t leave cutesy voice-mail messages and think that handles it!”

The line went dead. I sat there, shocked and a bit scared.

Everything in my life ground to a screeching halt. Cary was my anchor. When things weren’t right with us, I scattered real quick. And I knew it was the same for him. When we were out of touch, he started fucking up.

I dug out my cell phone and called him back.

“What?” he snapped. But it was a good sign that he’d answered.

“If I screwed up,” I said quickly, “I’m sorry and I’ll fix it. Okay?”

He made a rough sound. “You fucking piss me off, Eva.”

“Yeah, well, I’m good at pissing people off, if you haven’t noticed, but I hate when I do it to you.” I sighed. “It’s going to drive me nuts, Cary, until we can work it out. I need us solid, you know that.”

“You haven’t acted like it matters lately,” he said gruffly. “I’m an afterthought and that fucking hurts.”

“I’m always thinking about you. If I haven’t shown it, that’s my bad.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I love you, Cary. Even when I’m messing up.”

He exhaled into the receiver. “Get back to work and don’t stress about this. We’ll deal with it at lunch.”

“I’m sorry. Really.”

“See you at noon.”

I hung up and tried to concentrate, but it was hard. It was one thing having Cary angry with me; it was totally another to know I’d hurt him. I was one of the very few people in his life he trusted not to let him down.

* * *

AT eleven thirty, I received a small pile of interoffice envelopes. I was thrilled when one of them revealed a note from Gideon.

MY GORGEOUS, SEXY WIFE,

I NEVER STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU.

YOURS,

X

My feet tapped out a little happy dance beneath my desk. My skewed day righted itself a little.

I wrote him back.

Dark and Dangerous,

I’m madly in love with you.

Your ball and chain,

Mrs. X

I tucked it in an envelope and dropped it in my out-box.

I was drafting a reply to the artist working on a gift card campaign when my desk phone rang. I answered with my usual greeting and heard a reply in a familiar French accent.

“Eva, it’s Jean-François Giroux.”

Sitting back in my chair, I said, “Bonjour, Monsieur Giroux.”

“What time is best for us to meet today?”

What the hell did he want from me? I supposed if I wanted to know, I’d have to follow through. “Five o’clock? There’s a wine bar not too far from the Crossfire.”

“That would be fine.”

I gave him directions and he hung up, leaving me feeling somewhat whiplashed by the call. I swiveled in my chair, thinking. Gideon and I were trying to move forward with our lives, but people and issues from our pasts were still trying to hold us back. Would the announcement of our marriage, or even an engagement, change that?

God, I hoped so. But was anything ever that easy?

Glancing at the clock, I refocused on work and returned to writing my e-mail.

* * *

I was down in the lobby by five after noon, but Cary hadn’t arrived yet. As I waited for him, my nerves started getting to me. I’d gone over my brief conversation with Cary again and again and knew he was right. I had convinced myself he’d be okay with having Gideon join our living arrangements because I couldn’t imagine facing the alternative—having to choose between my best friend and my boyfriend.

And now there was no choice. I was married. Ecstatically so.

Still, I found myself grateful that I’d tucked my wedding ring into the zippered pocket of my purse. If Cary felt a growing distance between us, replaceing out I’d gotten hitched over the weekend wouldn’t help.

My stomach twisted. The secrets between us were mounting. I couldn’t stand it.

“Eva.”

I jerked out of my thoughts at the sound of my best friend’s voice. He was striding toward me wearing loose-fitting cargo shorts and a V-neck T-shirt. He kept his shades on, and with his hands shoved in his pockets, he seemed distant and cool. Heads turned as he walked by and he didn’t notice, his attention on me.

My feet moved. I was hurrying toward him before I thought of it, then ran straight into him so hard, his breath left him with a grunt. I hugged him, my cheek pressed to his chest.

“I missed you,” I said, meaning it with all my heart, even though he wouldn’t know exactly why.

He muttered something under his breath and hugged me. “Pain in the ass sometimes, baby girl.”

Pulling back, I looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

He linked his fingers with mine and led me out of the Crossfire. We went to the place with the great tacos that we’d gone to the last time he had met me for lunch. They also had great slushy virgin margaritas, which were perfect on a steamy summer day.

After waiting in line about ten minutes, I ordered only two tacos, since I hadn’t hit the gym in way too long. Cary ordered six. We snagged a table just as its former occupants cleared away, and Cary inhaled a taco before I’d barely taken the wrapper off my straw.

“I’m sorry about the voice mail,” I said.

“You don’t get it.” He swiped a napkin across lips that turned sane women into giggling girls when he smiled. “It’s the whole situation, Eva. You leave me a message telling me to think about sharing a place with Cross, after you tell your mom that it’s a done deal and before you fall off the face of the earth for the weekend. I guess however I feel about it means jack shit to you.”

“That’s not true!”

“Why would you want a roommate when you’re living with a boyfriend anyway?” he asked, clearly getting warmed up. “And why would you think I’d want to be a third wheel?”

“Cary—”

“I don’t need any fucking handouts, Eva.” His emerald eyes narrowed. “I’ve got places I can crash, other people I can room with. Don’t do me any favors.”

My chest tightened. I wasn’t ready to let Cary go yet. Someday in the future, we’d be heading our separate ways, maybe only seeing each other on special occasions. But that time wasn’t now. It couldn’t be. Just thinking about it screwed with my head.

“Who says I’m doing it for you?” I shot back. “Maybe I just can’t bear the thought of not having you nearby.”

He snorted and ripped a bite out of his taco. Chewing angrily, he swallowed his food down with a long draw on his straw. “What am I, your three-year chip marking your recovery? Your celebratory token for Eva Anonymous?”

“Excuse me.” I leaned forward. “You’re mad, I get it. I’ve said I’m sorry. I love you and I love having you in my life, but I’m not going to sit here and get kicked because I fucked up.”

I pushed away from the table and stood. “I’ll catch you later.”

“You and Cross getting married?”

Pausing, I looked down at him. “He asked. I said yes.”

Cary nodded, as if that were no surprise, and took another bite. I grabbed my purse from where it hung on the back of my chair.

“Are you afraid of living alone with him?” he asked around his chewing.

Of course he’d think that. “No. He’ll be sleeping in his own bedroom.”

“Has he been sleeping in a separate room the last few weekends you’ve been shacking up with him?”

I stared. Did he know for a fact that Gideon was the “loverman” I’d been spending time with? Or was he just fishing? I decided I didn’t care. I was tired of lying to him. “Mostly, yes.”

He set his taco down. “Finally, some truth out of you. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten how to be honest.”

“Fuck you.”

Grinning, he gestured at my vacant chair. “Sit your ass back down, baby girl. We’re not done talking.”

“You’re being a jerk.”

His smile faded and his gaze hardened. “Being lied to for weeks makes me cranky. Sit down.”

I sat and glared at him. “There? Happy?”

“Eat. I’ve got shit to say.”

Exhaling my frustration, I slung my purse over the chair again and faced him with my brows raised.

“If you think,” he began, “that being sober and working steadily broke my bullshit meter, now you know better. I knew you were nailing Cross again from the moment you started back up.”

Biting into my taco, I shot him a skeptical look.

“Eva honey, don’t you think that if there were another man in New York who could bang it out all night like Cross, I would’ve found him by now?”

I coughed and nearly spit out my food.

“No one’s lucky enough to replace two guys like that in a row,” he drawled. “Not even you. You should’ve had a dry spell or at least a couple of really bad lays first.”

I threw my wadded-up straw wrapper at him, which he dodged with a laugh.

Then he sobered. “Did you think I would judge you for getting back together with him after he jacked up?”

“It’s more complicated than that, Cary. Things were . . . a mess. There was a lot of pressure. Still is, with that reporter stalking Gideon—”

“Stalking him?”

“Totally. I just didn’t want . . .” You exposed. Vulnerable. Open to accusation as an accomplice after the fact. “I just had to let it play out,” I finished lamely.

He let that sink in, then nodded. “And now you’re going to marry him.”

“Yes.” I took a drink, needing to loosen the lump in my throat. “But you’re the only one who knows that besides us.”

“Finally, a secret you let me in on.” His lips pursed for a few seconds. “And you still want me to live with you.”

I leaned forward again, holding out my hand for his. “I know you can do something else, go somewhere else. But I’d rather you didn’t. I’m not ready to be without you yet, married or not.”

He gripped my hand so tightly, my bones pressed together. “Eva—”

“Wait,” I said quickly. He was far too serious all of a sudden. I didn’t want him to cut me off before I put everything out there. “Gideon’s penthouse has an adjacent one-bedroom apartment he doesn’t use.”

“A one-bedroom apartment. On Fifth Avenue.”

“Yeah. Great, right? All yours. Your own space and entrance and view of Central Park. But still connected to me. The best of both worlds.” I rushed on, hoping to say something he’d latch on to. “We’ll stay on the Upper West Side for a bit, while I make changes to the penthouse. Gideon says we can have whatever changes you want made to your apartment done at the same time.”

“My apartment.” He stared at me, which made me even more nervous. A man and a woman tried to squeeze between our table and the back of an occupied chair that was pushed too far out into the walkway, but I ignored them.

“I’m not talking about a handout,” I assured him. “I’ve been thinking that I’d like to put that money I’ve been sitting on to work. Create a foundation or something to decide how to use it in support of causes and charities we believe in. I need your help. And I’ll pay you for it. Not just for your input, but for your face. I want you to be the foundation’s first spokesperson.”

Cary’s grip on my hand slackened.

Alarmed, I tightened mine. “Cary?”

His shoulders sagged. “Tatiana’s pregnant.”

“What?” I felt the blood drain from my face. The little restaurant was hopping, and the shouting of orders behind the counter and the clatter of trays and utensils made it hard to hear, but I’d caught the two words that fell out of Cary’s mouth as if he’d shouted them at me. “Are you kidding?”

“I wish.” He pulled his hand away and scooped back the bangs that draped over one eye. “Not that I don’t want a kid. That part’s cool. But . . . fuck. Not now, you know? And not with her.”

“How the hell did she get pregnant?” Cary was religious about protecting himself, knowing damn well he lived a high-risk lifestyle.

“Well, I shoved my dick in her and pushed it around—”

“Shut up,” I bit out. “You’re careful.”

“Yeah, well, putting a sock on it isn’t guaranteed protection,” he said wearily, “and Tat doesn’t take the pill because she says it makes her break out and eat too much.”

“Jesus.” My eyes stung. “Are you sure it’s yours?”

He snorted. “No, but that doesn’t mean it’s not. She’s six weeks along, so it’s possible.”

I had to ask. “Is she going to keep it?”

“I don’t know. She’s thinking it over.”

“Cary . . .” I couldn’t hold back the tear that slid down my cheek. My heart was aching for him. “What are you going to do?”

“What can I do?” He slumped back in his chair. “It’s her decision.”

His powerlessness had to be killing him. After his mother had given birth to him, unwanted, she’d used abortion as birth control. I knew that haunted him. He’d told me so. “And if she decides to go through with the pregnancy? You’ll have a paternity test done, right?”

“God, Eva.” He looked at me with reddened eyes. “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. What the hell am I supposed to say to Trey? Things are just starting to smooth out between us and I’ve got to hit him with this? He’s going to dump me. It’s over.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I straightened in my chair. I couldn’t let Cary and Trey fall apart. Now that Gideon and I were good, it was time to fix all the other areas of my life I’d been neglecting. “We’ll take it a step at a time. Figure things out as we go. We’ll get through this.”

He swallowed hard. “I need you.”

“I need you, too. We’ll stick together and work it out.” I managed a smile. “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. Except to San Diego this weekend,” I amended hastily, reminding myself to talk to Gideon about that.

“Thank God.” Cary sat forward again. “What I wouldn’t give to shoot hoops at Dr. Travis’s right now.”

“Yeah.” I didn’t play basketball, but I knew I could use a one-on-one with Dr. Travis myself.

What would he say when he learned how far off the rails we’d slid in the few months we’d been in New York? We had spun some big dreams the last time we’d all sat down together. Cary had wanted to star in a Super Bowl ad and I’d wanted to be the one behind the scenes of that ad. Now he was facing the possibility of a baby and I was married to the most complicated man I had ever met.

“Dr. Trav’s gonna flip,” Cary muttered, reading my mind.

For some reason, that made us both laugh ’til we cried.

* * *

WHEN I got back to my desk, I found another small pile of interoffice envelopes. Catching my lower lip between my teeth, I searched each one until I found the one I was hoping for.

I CAN THINK OF MANY USES FOR THAT CHAIN, MRS. X.

YOU WILL ENJOY THEM ALL IMMENSELY.

YOURS,

X

Some of the dark clouds from lunch floated away.

* * *

AFTER Cary’s mind-blowing revelation, meeting Giroux after work barely registered on my what-else-could-possibly-go-wrong-next scale.

He was already at the wine bar when I arrived. Dressed in perfectly pressed khakis and white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and open at the throat, he looked good. Casual. But that didn’t make him seem more relaxed. The man was strung tight as a bow, vibrating with tension and whatever else was eating at him.

“Eva,” he greeted me. With that overt friendliness I hadn’t liked the first time, he kissed me on both cheeks again. “Enchanté.”

“Not too blond for you today, I take it?”

“Ah.” He gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I deserved that.”

I joined him at his table by the window and we were served shortly after.

The place had the look of an establishment that had been around a long time. Tin tiles covered the ceiling, while the aged hardwood floors and intricately carved bar suggested the place had been a pub at some point in its history. It had been modernized with chrome fixtures and a wine rack behind the bar that could have been an abstract sculpture.

Giroux openly studied me as the server poured our wine. I had no idea what he was looking for, but he was definitely searching for something.

As I took a sip of a lovely shiraz, he settled comfortably in his chair and swirled his wine around in his glass. “You’ve met my wife.”

“I have, yes. She’s very beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.” His gaze dropped to his wine. “What else did you think of her?”

“Why does it matter what I think?”

He looked at me again. “Do you see her as a rival? Or a threat?”

“Neither.” I took another drink and noticed a black Bentley SUV easing into a tight spot at the curb just outside the window I sat beside. Angus was behind the wheel and apparently uncaring of the NO PARKING sign he was camping out in front of.

“You are that certain of Cross?”

My attention returned to Giroux. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish you would pack up your wife and take her back to France with you.”

His mouth quirked on one side in a grim smile. “You are in love with Cross, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

That made me smile. “If you think you can figure out what Corinne sees in him by what I see in him, forget it. He and I, we’re . . . different with each other than we are with other people.”

“I saw that. With him.” Giroux took a drink, savoring it before swallowing.

“Forgive me, but I don’t know why we’re sitting here. What do you want from me?”

“Are you always so direct?”

“Yes.” I shrugged. “I get impatient with being confused.”

“Then I will be direct as well.” He reached out and caught my left hand. “You have a tan line from a ring. A sizable one, it appears. An engagement ring, perhaps?”

I looked at my hand and saw he was right. There was a square-sized spot on my ring finger that was a few shades lighter than the rest of my skin. Unlike my mother, who was pale, I’d inherited my father’s warm skin tone and I tanned easily.

“You’re very perceptive. But I would appreciate you keeping your speculations to yourself.”

He smiled and for the first time, it was genuine. “Perhaps I will get my wife back after all.”

“I think you could, if you tried.” I sat up, deciding it was time to leave. “You know what your wife told me once? She said you’re indifferent. Instead of waiting for her to come back, you should just take her back. I think that’s what she wants.”

He stood when I did, standing over me. “She has chased Cross. I do not think a woman who chases will replace a man chasing her attractive.”

“I don’t know about that.” I pulled a twenty out of my pocket and set it on the table, despite his scowl at the sight of it. “She said yes when you asked her to marry you, didn’t she? Whatever you did before, do it again. Good-bye, Jean-François.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I was already halfway out the door.

* * *

ANGUS was waiting beside the Bentley when I exited the wine bar.

“Would you like to go home, Mrs. Cross?” he asked, as I slipped into the back.

His greeting made me grin. Combined with my recent conversation with Giroux, it sparked an idea. “Actually, I’d like to make a stop, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

I gave him directions, then sat back and relished the building anticipation.

* * *

IT was half past six when I was ready to call it a day, but when I asked Angus where Gideon was, I learned he was still in his office.

“Will you take me to him?” I asked.

“Of course.”

Returning to the Crossfire after hours was weird. Although there were still people moving through the lobby, it had a different feel from the daytime. When I reached the top floor, I found the glass security doors to Cross Industries propped open and a cleaning crew at work emptying trash cans, wiping down the glass, and vacuuming.

I headed directly to Gideon’s office, noting the number of empty desks, which included that of Scott, his assistant. Gideon stood behind his, an earpiece in his ear, and his jacket hung on the coat rack in the corner. His hands were on his hips and he was talking, his lips moving rapidly and his face a mask of concentration.

The wall across from him was covered in flat screens streaming news from around the world. To the right of that was a bar with jeweled decanters on lighted glass shelves that were the only spot of color in the office’s cool palette of black, white, and gray. Three distinct seating areas offered comfortable spaces for less formal meetings, while Gideon’s black desk was a miracle of modern technology, serving as the conduit for all the electronics in the room.

Surrounded by his expensive toys, my husband looked nothing short of edible. The beautifully tailored lines of his vest and pants showed off the perfection of his body, and the sight of him at his command center, wielding the power that had built his empire, did crazy things to my heart. The floor-to-ceiling windows that surrounded him on two sides allowed the view of the city to make an imposing backdrop, yet the vista didn’t diminish him in any way.

Gideon was master of all he surveyed, and it showed.

Reaching into my purse, I unzipped the small pocket and drew out the rings inside it, slipping mine on. Then I stepped closer to the glass wall and double doors that separated him from everyone else.

His head swiveled toward me and his gaze heated at the sight of me. He hit a button on his desk, and the double doors swung open automatically. A moment later, the glass turned opaque, ensuring that no one lingering in the office would be able to see us.

I went in.

“I agree,” he said, to whomever he was talking to. “Get it done and report back to me.”

As he pulled off his earpiece and dropped it on his desk, his gaze never left me. “You’re a welcome surprise, angel. Tell me about your meeting with Giroux.”

I shrugged. “How did you know?”

His mouth tilted up on one side and he shot me a look that said, Really? You’re going to ask?

“Are you here for a while?” I queried.

“I have a conference call with the Japanese division in half an hour, then I’m done. We’ll go to dinner afterward.”

“Let’s get something to take home and eat with Cary. He’s having a baby.”

Gideon’s brows shot up. “Come again?”

“Well, he might be having a baby.” I sighed. “He’s messed up over it and I want to be there for him. Plus, he should get used to having you around again.”

He raked me with an assessing glance. “You’re messed up over it, too. Come here.” He rounded the desk and opened his arms. “Let me hold you.”

I dropped my purse on the floor, kicked off my heels, and walked right into him. His arms came around me, and his lips, so firm and warm, pressed against my forehead.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “Don’t worry.”

“I love you, Gideon.”

His embrace tightened.

Leaning back, I looked up into his gorgeous face. His eyes were so blue, seemingly even more so with the touch of sun he’d gotten during our trip away. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

I backed up, catching his left hand before it dropped away from me. Holding it, I slid the ring I’d just bought him onto his finger, twisting it to fit over his last knuckle. He was still the entire time. When I released his hand so he could get a better look, it didn’t move at all from where it’d been when I was holding it, as if he’d frozen in place.

Canting my head, I admired the ring on him, thinking it had just the effect I was looking for. But when a moment passed without a word from him, I looked up and saw him staring at his hand as if he’d never seen it before.

My heart sank. “You don’t like it.”

His nostrils flared on a deep breath and he turned over his hand to look at the backside, which was the same. The design I’d chosen wrapped continuously around.

The platinum wedding band was very much like the ring he wore on his right hand. It had the same beveled grooves cut into the precious metal, which gave it a similar industrial, masculine look. But the wedding band was garnished with rubies, making it impossible to miss. The bloodred hue stood out against his tanned skin and dark suits, a conspicuous sign of my possession.

“It’s too much,” I said quietly.

“It’s always too much,” he said hoarsely. And then he was on me, his hands cupping my head and his lips on mine, kissing me fiercely.

I grabbed his wrists, but he moved too quickly, lifting me up by the waist so my feet left the floor, and then carrying me to the same couch where he’d first laid his body over mine so many weeks ago.

“You don’t have time for this,” I gasped.

He sat me down with my butt on the edge of the sofa. “This won’t take long.”

He wasn’t kidding. Reaching beneath my skirt, he slid my panties down my legs, then spread them wide and lowered his head.

There in his office, where I’d just admired his power and commanding presence, Gideon Cross knelt between my thighs and ate me with ruthless skill. His tongue fluttered over my clit until I writhed with the need to come, but it was the sight of him—in his suit, in his office, servicing me so thoroughly—that brought me to climax with a cry of his name.

I was shivering with pleasure while he licked inside me, the sensitive tissues trembling around the shallow plunges of his wickedly knowledgeable tongue. When he opened his fly and freed his erection, I was desperate for him, my body arching toward him in a shameless silent plea.

Gideon took the heavy length of his cock in hand and stroked the thick crest through my cleft, coating himself in the slickness of my orgasm. The fact that we were both still dressed except for what we needed to get out of the way made it all the hotter.

“I want you to submit,” he said darkly. “Bend over and spread wide. I’m going to fuck you deep.”

A whimper escaped me at the thought and I scrambled to obey. Aware of how tall he was, I moved to the side of the couch and folded over the armrest, reaching behind me to pull up my skirt.

He didn’t hesitate. With a powerful thrust of his hips, he was inside me, stretching me. “Eva.”

Gasping, I clawed at the sofa cushions. He was thick and hard and so, so deep. With my stomach pressed over the curve of the couch arm, I swore I could feel him pressing outward from the inside.

Folding over me, he wrapped his arms around me and sank his teeth into the side of my neck. The primitive claiming made my sex clench around him, caressing him.

He growled and ran his lips over me, lightly abrading me with the hint of evening stubble on his jaw. “You feel so good,” he said hoarsely. “I love fucking you.”

“Gideon.”

“Give me your hands.”

Unsure of what he wanted, I slid my arms closer to my body and he circled my wrists with his fingers, pulling my hands gently around to the small of my back.

Then he was fucking me. Pounding into my sex with relentless drives, using my arms to pull me back to meet the thrusts of his hips. His heavy sac smacked against my clitoris, the rhythmic slaps spurring me toward another orgasm. He grunted on every plunge, mirroring my cries.

His race to orgasm was wildly exciting, as was his complete control of my body. I could only lie there and take it, take his lust and hunger, servicing him as he had me. The friction of his thrusts was delicious, a steady rubbing and pulling that made me crazed with desire.

I wished I could see him; see his eyes when they lost their focus and pleasure took him, his face a grimace of agonized ecstasy. I loved that I could affect him so fiercely, that my body felt so good to him, that sex with me shattered his defenses.

He shuddered and cursed. His cock lengthened, thickening as his balls tightened and drew up. “Eva . . . Christ. I love you.”

I felt the lash of his semen inside me, pumping hot and thick. I bit my lip to stem my cry. I was so hot for him, so close.

Releasing my wrists, he wrapped me up, the fingers of one hand sliding into my cleft and rubbing my swollen clit. I came while he was still pumping, my sex milking his spurting cock as he emptied himself inside me. His lips were on my cheek, his breath gusting hot and moist across my skin, low rumbles spilling from his chest as he came hard and long.

We were both panting as our orgasms eased, leaning heavily on each other.

Swallowing hard, I spoke breathlessly. “I guess you like the ring.”

His rough laugh filled me with joy.

* * *

FIVE minutes later, I lay wilted and sated on the couch, unable to move. Gideon sat at his desk looking pristine and perfect, radiating the health and vitality of a well-fucked male.

He went through the teleconference without a hitch in his stride, speaking mostly English, but opening and closing with conversational Japanese, his voice deep and smooth. His gaze slid over me now and again, his mouth curving in a ghost of a smile laced with undeniable masculine triumph.

I supposed he was entitled to it, considering I had so many postorgasmic endorphins floating through my system I felt almost drunk.

Gideon finished his call and stood, shrugging out of his jacket again. The gleam in his eyes told me why.

Mustering the energy to raise my brows, I asked, “We’re not leaving?”

“Of course we are. But not yet.”

“Maybe you should cut back on those vitamins, ace.”

His lips twitched as he freed the buttons of his vest. “I’ve spent too many days fantasizing about fucking you on that couch. We haven’t covered even half of those fantasies yet.”

I stretched, deliberately enticing him. “Can we still be naughty now that we’re married?”

From the spark that lit his amazing eyes, I could guess his views on that.

By the time we left the Crossfire at nearly nine o’clock, Gideon had answered the question definitively.