Bared to You(91)

"Security detail?" I asked.

"Yes. I took off fast when I was told you were here, and they lost the tail for a while."

Cary went home with Clancy, so Gideon and I headed straight to the penthouse. I found myself getting turned on from watching Gideon drive. He handled the luxury vehicle the way he handled everything - confidently, aggressively, and with skillful control. He drove fast but not recklessly, weaving easily over the curves and straightaways of the scenic route back to the city. There was almost no traffic until we hit the gridlock of Manhattan.

When we arrived at his apartment, we both went straight into the master bathroom and undressed for a shower. As if he couldn't stop touching me, Gideon washed me from head to toe; then he dried me with a towel and wrapped me in a new robe of embroidered teal silk with kimono sleeves. He finished by pulling a pair of similarly hued drawstring silk pants out of a drawer for himself.

"Don't I get panties?" I asked, thinking about my drawer of sexy underwear.

"No. There's a phone hanging on the wall in the kitchen. Hit speed dial one and tell the man who answers that I want him to pick up double my usual dinner order from Peter Luger."

"All right." I headed out to the living room and made the call; then I had to search for Gideon. I found him in his home office, a room I hadn't been in before.

I didn't get a good look at the space at first because the only lighting came from an angled picture light on the wall and a barrister's lamp on his polished wood desk. Plus my eyes were more interested in focusing on him. He looked utterly sensual and compelling sprawled in his big black leather chair. He held a tulip glass of some liquor that he warmed between his hands and the beauty of his flexing biceps sent tingles racing through me, as did the tight lacing of muscles on his abdomen.

His gaze was on the wall illuminated by the picture light, which snagged my attention, too. I was startled when I saw the art - a huge collage of blown-up photos of him and me: the picture of our kiss on the street outside the gym...a shot of us from the press gauntlet at the advocacy dinner...a candid of the tender aftermath of our fight in Bryant Park...

The focal point was the image in the center that had been taken while I slept in my own bed, lit only by the candle I'd left burning for him. It was an intimate voyeuristic shot, one that said more about the photographer than it did the subject.

I was deeply touched by the proof that he'd been falling along with me.

Gideon gestured at the drink he'd poured for me in advance and set on the edge of his desk. "Have a seat."

I complied, curious. There was an edge to him that was new, a sense of purpose and calm determination paired with laser-precise focus.

What brought on his mood? And what did it mean for the rest of our evening?

Then I saw the small photo collage frame lying on the desktop next to my drink and my worry faded. The frame was very similar to the one already on my desk, but this one held three photos of Gideon and me together.

"I want you to take that to work," he said quietly

"Thank you." For the first time in days, I was happy. I hugged the frame to my chest with one hand, and picked up my glass with the other.

His eyes glittered as he watched me take a seat. "You blow kisses at me all day from your picture on my desk. I think it's only fair that you be equally reminded of me. Of us."

I exhaled in a rush, my heartbeat not quite steady. "I never forget about you or us."

"I wouldn't let you if you tried." Gideon took a deep drink, his throat working on a swallow. "I think I've figured out where we made our first misstep, the one that's led to all the stumbles we've had since."

"Oh?"

"Take a drink of your Armagnac, angel. I think you'll need it."

I took a cautious sip of the liquor, feeling the instantaneous burn, followed by recognition that I liked the flavor. I took a bigger drink.

Rolling his glass between his palms, Gideon took another drink and eyed me thoughtfully. "Tell me which was hotter, Eva: sex in the limo when you were in charge or sex in the hotel when I was?"

I shifted restlessly, unsure of where the conversation was leading. "I thought you enjoyed what happened in the limo. While it was happening, I mean. Obviously not later."

"I loved it," he said with quiet conviction. "The image of you in that red dress, moaning and telling me how good my cock feels inside you, will haunt me as long as I live. If you'd like to top me again in the future, I'm definitely game."