Entwined with You(7)

My chest tightened with terrible yearning. I loved him too much. I was constantly worried that I wouldn’t be able to hold on to him. He was lightning in a bottle, a dream I tried to hold in my hands.


I let out a shaky breath. “You’re a delicious extravagance for a woman, you know. A luscious, mouthwatering—”


“Shut up.” He rolled over and dragged me under him before I knew his intent. “I’m filthy rich, but you just want me for my body.”


I looked up at him, admiring the way his dark hair framed that extraordinary face. “I want the heart inside the body.”


“You have it.” His arms tucked against my sides and his legs tangled with mine, the coarse hair on his calves stimulating my hypersensitive skin.


I was restrained. Possessed. His warm, hard body felt so good against mine. I sighed, feeling some of the fearful hesitation easing.


“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” he said quietly.


I stroked his hair, knowing he was right, that his nightmares and atypical sexual parasomnia made sleeping with him dangerous. He sometimes lashed out in his sleep, and if I was too close, I took the brunt of the simmering rage inside him. “I’m glad you did, though.”


He caught my wrist and pulled my fingers to his mouth for a kiss. “We need time together when we aren’t looking over our shoulders.”


“Oh, God. I almost forgot. Deanna Johnson was here tonight.” The moment the words left my mouth I regretted the wall they put up between us.


Gideon blinked, and in that split second, the warmth in his eyes was gone. “Stay away from her. She’s a reporter.”


My arms slid around him. “She’s going for blood.”


“She’ll have to get in line.”


“Why is she so interested? She’s a freelancer. No one assigned her to you.”


“Drop it, Eva.”


His dismissal of the subject irked me. “I know you f*cked her.”


“No, you don’t. And what you should be focused on is the fact that I’m about to f*ck you.”


Certainty settled in my gut. I released him, pulling away. “You lied.”


He reared back as if I’d slapped him. “I have never lied to you.”


“You told me you’ve had more sex since you met me than you’ve had in the last two years combined, but you told Dr. Petersen you’ve been getting laid twice a week. Which is it?”


Rolling to his back, he scowled at the ceiling. “Do we have to do this now? Tonight?”


His body language was so tight and defensive that my irritation with his evasiveness left me in a rush. I didn’t want to fight with him, especially over the past. What mattered was now and the future. I had to trust that he’d be faithful.


“No, we don’t,” I said softly, turning onto my side and reaching over to place my hand on his chest. Once the sun came up, we’d be right back to pretending we weren’t together. I had no idea how long we’d have to keep up the charade or when I’d get to be with him again. “I just wanted to warn you that she’s digging. Watch out for her.”


“Dr. Petersen asked about sexual encounters, Eva,” he said flatly, “which isn’t necessarily f*cking, as far as I’m concerned. I didn’t think that distinction would be appreciated when answering the question. So let me be clear: I took women to the hotel, but I didn’t always nail them. It was the exception when I did.”


I thought of his f*ck pad, a stocked-with-sexual-paraphernalia suite reserved in one of his many hospitality properties. He’d given it up, thank God, but I’d never forget it. “Maybe it’s better I don’t hear any more.”


“You opened this door,” he snapped. “We’re walking through it.”


I sighed. “Fair enough.”


“There were times when I couldn’t stand to be alone with myself, but I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to even think, let alone feel anything. I needed the distraction of focusing on someone else, and using my dick was too much involvement. Can you understand that?”


Sadly, I could, recalling times when I’d dropped to my knees for a guy just to shut off my brain for a while. Encounters like those had never been about foreplay or sex.


“So is she one of the girls you screwed or not?” I hated asking the question, but we had to get it out of the way.


He turned his head to look at me. “Once.”


“Must’ve been some lay for her to be so bent out of shape over it.”


“I couldn’t say,” he muttered. “I don’t remember.”


“Were you drunk?”


“No. Jesus.” He scrubbed at his face. “What the hell did she tell you?”


“Nothing personal. She did mention you having a ‘dark side.’ I’m assuming that’s a sexual reference, but I didn’t ask her for details. She was playing it like we had an affinity because we’d both been thrown over by you. The ‘Dumped by Gideon Sisterhood.’ ”


He glanced at me with cold eyes. “Don’t be catty. It doesn’t suit you.”