Entwined with You(36)

His arms crossed his chest. “I meant to.”


“You meant to?” I shoved to my feet. “I tell you I’m broken up over my mother not telling me something and you don’t say a word about your own secrets?”


For a moment, he remained hard-faced and immovable. Then he cursed under his breath and unfolded. “I came home early, planning to tell you, but then you told me about your mom and I thought that was enough shit for you to deal with in one day.”


Deflating, I sank back onto the couch. “That’s not the way a relationship works, ace.”


“I’m just getting you back, Eva. I don’t want all the time we spend together to be about what’s wrong and f*cked up in our lives!”


I patted the cushion beside me. “Come here.”


He took a seat on the coffee table in front of me instead, his spread legs bracketing mine. He caught my hands in both of his, lifting them to his lips to kiss my knuckles. “I’m sorry.”


“I don’t blame you. But if there’s anything else you have to tell me, now would be the time.”


He pressed forward, urging me to stretch out on the couch. Coming over me, he whispered, “I’m in love with you.”


With everything going wrong, that was the one thing that was totally right.


It was enough.


WE fell asleep on the couch, wrapped up in each other. I drifted in and out of consciousness, plagued by anxiety and thrown off my schedule by our earlier long nap. I was awake enough to sense the change in Gideon, hear his fast breathing, followed by the tightening of his grip on me. His body jerked powerfully, shaking me. His whimper pierced my heart.


“Gideon.” I wriggled around to face him, my agitated movements waking him. We’d drifted off with the lights on and I was grateful that he woke to the brightness.


His heart was pounding beneath my palm, a fine mist of sweat blooming on his skin. “What?” he gasped. “What’s wrong?”


“You were slipping into a nightmare, I think.” I pressed soft kisses over his hot face, wishing my love could be enough to banish the memories.


He tried to sit up and I clung tighter to hold him down.


“Are you okay?” He ran a hand over me, searching. “Did I hurt you?”


“I’m fine.”


“God.” He fell back and covered his eyes with his forearm. “I can’t keep falling asleep with you. And I forgot to take my prescription. Goddamn it, I can’t be this careless.”


“Hey.” I propped myself up on my elbow and ran my other hand down his chest. “No harm done.”


“Don’t make light of this, Eva.” He turned his head and looked at me, his gaze fierce. “Not this.”


“I would never.” God, he looked so weary, with dark smudges under his eyes and deep grooves framing that wickedly sensual mouth.


“I killed a man,” he said grimly. “It’s never been safe for you to be with me when I’m sleeping, and that’s even truer now.”


“Gideon …” I suddenly understood why he’d been having his nightmares more frequently. He could rationalize what he’d done, but that didn’t alleviate the weight on his conscience.


I brushed the thick strands of hair off his forehead. “If you’re struggling, you need to talk to me.”


“I just want you safe,” he muttered.


“I never feel safer than when I’m with you. I need you to stop beating yourself up for everything.”


“It’s my fault.”


“Wasn’t your life perfectly uncomplicated before I came along?” I challenged.


He shot me a wry look. “I seem to have a taste for complicated.”


“Then stop bitching about it. And don’t move, I’ll be right back.”


I went to the master bedroom and swapped my garters, stockings, and bra for an oversized Cross Industries T-shirt. Pulling the velour throw off the foot of the bed, I went to Gideon’s room and grabbed his medicine.


His gaze followed me as I dropped off the throw and prescription before heading to the kitchen for a bottle of water. In short order, I had him settled in, the both of us huddled together beneath the blanket and the majority of the lights turned off.


I snuggled closer, hooking my leg over his. The medication prescribed for Gideon’s parasomnia was no cure, but he was religious about taking it. I loved him all the more for that dedication, because he did it for me. “Do you know what you were dreaming about?” I asked.


“No. Whatever it was, I wish it were you instead.”


“Me, too.” I laid my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. “If it had been a dream about me, what would it be like?”


I felt him relax, sinking into the sofa and into me.


“It would be a cloudless day on a Caribbean beach,” he murmured. “A private beach, with a cabana on the white sand, enclosed on three sides with the view in front of us. I’d have you spread out on a chaise longue. Naked.”


“Of course.”