by Sylvia Day
I paused to admire the beach from the balcony, noting the endless rows of coconut stands and the golden bodies on the beach. Samba music drifted through the air, earthy and sexy and upbeat. I took a picture, then uploaded both it and the one of the guys on the tarmac to my Instagram account. The view from here … #RioDeJaneiro
I tagged everyone and discovered that Arnoldo had snapped a picture of Gideon and me kissing passionately at the airport. It was a great photo, sexy and intimate. Arnoldo had a few hundred thousand followers and the photo already had dozens of comments and likes.
Dear friends enjoying #RioDeJaneiro and each other.
Gideon’s smartphone rang and he excused himself. I heard him speaking in another room and followed. We hadn’t said a word since we left the airport, as if we were saving them for intimate conversation. Or maybe we just didn’t need to say anything. Let the world talk and spread lies. We knew what we had. It didn’t need to be qualified, justified, or expressed.
I found him in an office, standing in front of a U-shaped desk covered in photos and notes, some of which had spilled onto the floor. The place was a mess, so unlike the rigid order my husband usually maintained. It took a moment to register that the photos were of the inside of a club and that they matched the background I’d seen in the photo of Gideon on Cinco de Mayo.
It was kind of eerie that we’d come to the same idea. It was also kind of awesome.
I turned to leave.
“Eva. Wait.”
I glanced at him.
“Tomorrow morning is better,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the call. “Text me when it’s confirmed.”
Gideon hung up and silenced his phone, setting it down by his sunglasses. “I want you to see these.”
Shaking my head, I told him, “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
He stared at me. Without his shades, I saw the shadows under his eyes.
“You didn’t sleep last night.” It wasn’t a question. I should have known he wouldn’t.
“I’m going to fix this.”
“Nothing’s broken.”
“I heard you over the phone,” he said tightly.
I leaned into the doorjamb. I knew how he’d felt when I kissed Brett—murderous. They’d fought like beasts. A violent physical confrontation hadn’t been an option for me. My body had purged my jealousy the only way it could.
“Do what you have to do,” I murmured. “But I don’t need anything. I’m good. You and me—us—we’re good.”
Gideon took a deep breath. Let it out. Then he reached up behind him and yanked his shirt over his head. He kicked off his sandals while he unfastened his shorts, letting them drop to the floor. He wore nothing underneath.
I watched him prowl toward me naked, noting the darker tan lines and the rigidness of his cock. He was impossibly hard, his balls already drawn up tight. Every muscle flexed as he moved. His powerful thighs, his washboard abs, his thick biceps.
I didn’t move, barely breathed, hardly blinked. It amazed me that I could take him. He was nearly a foot taller and close to a hundred pounds heavier. And strong. So very strong.
When we made love, it turned me on to lie beneath him and feel all of that incredible power focused solely on pleasuring my body and taking pleasure in it.
Gideon reached me and pulled me into his arms. He lowered his head to take my mouth in a lush, deep kiss. Savoring and unhurried. Soft licks and coaxing lips. I didn’t realize he’d untied my top until it slipped down my arms. He slid his thumbs beneath the waistband of my shorts, gliding them back and forth across the sensitive skin, until he halted the kiss to crouch and help me step out of my clothes. I whimpered, wanting more.
“Let’s leave the heels on,” he murmured, straightening to his full height. His eyes were so brilliantly blue they reminded me of the water we’d skinny-dipped in when we married.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and he lifted me, carrying me to the bedroom.
“And some of those little round cheese puff breads,” I told Gideon, who relayed the addition to room service in Portuguese.
Lying prone on the bed facing the open sliding doors to the balcony, I kicked my legs up behind me, still wearing the fuck-me shoes. But nothing else. I rested my chin on my crossed arms. The warm ocean breeze felt good on my skin, cooling the sweat that covered every inch of me. The fan over the bed, with its mahogany blades carved into the shape of palm fronds, swirled lazily above.
I took a deep breath and smelled sex and Gideon.
Hehung up and the mattress dipped as he moved toward me, his lips brushing over my ass, then along my spine to my shoulder. He sprawled beside me, propping his head in one hand. The other stroked up and down my back.
I turned to look at him. “How many languages do you know?”
“A little of many and a lot of a few.”
“Hmm.” I arched into his touch.
He kissed my shoulder again. “I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured. “Glad I stayed.”
“I occasionally have good ideas.”
“So do I.” The lascivious gleam in his eyes told me exactly what he was thinking about.
He hadn’t slept all night, then super-slow-fucked me for nearly two hours. He’d come three times, the first time so hard he’d growled. Loudly. I knew the sound must have carried out the open windows. I’d orgasmed just hearing it. And he was ready to go again. He was always ready. Lucky me.
I rolled to my side, facing him. “Does it take two women to wear you out?”
Gideon’s face shuttered instantly. “I’m not going there.”
I touched his face. “Hey. It was a joke, baby. A bad one.”
He rolled to his back and grabbed a pillow, putting it between us. Then he turned his head toward me, a frown between his brows. “There used to be this … emptiness. Inside me,” he said quietly. “You called it a void. Said you filled it. You did.”
Listening, I just waited. He was talking. Sharing. It was hard for him and he didn’t like it. But he loved me more.
“I was waiting for you.” He brushed the hair back from my cheek. “A dozen women couldn’t have done what you did. But … Christ.” He ran both hands through his hair. “Distractions made it easier not to think about it.”
“I can make that happen,” I purred, wanting him to be happy and playful again. “I can make you not think about anything.”
“That emptiness is gone. You’re there.”
Leaning over him, I kissed him. “I’m right here, too.”
He shifted, rising to his knees and scooping me up, dropping me onto the pillow so that my ass was lifted into the air.
“This is how I want you.”
I looked at him over my shoulder. “You remember room service is coming, right?”
“They said forty-five to sixty minutes.”
“You’re the boss. They won’t take that long.”
He moved, positioning himself between my legs. “I told them to take an hour.”
I laughed. I’d thought lunch was a break. Apparently, only the phone call was.
He grabbed my butt cheeks in both hands and squeezed, kneading. “God, you have the most amazing ass. It’s the perfect cushion for doing this …”
Holding my hips, he slid inside me. A long, slow glide. He groaned with masculine pleasure and my toes curled in my shoes.
“My God.” I dropped my forehead to the bed and moaned. “You’re so hard.”
His lips pressed to my shoulder. He rolled his hips, stroking inside me, pushing deep enough to cause the tiniest bit of pain. “You excite me,” he said roughly. “I can’t turn it off. I don’t want to.”
“Don’t.” I arched my back, pushing up into his easy, measured thrusts. That was his mood today. Gentle. Indulging. Making love. “Don’t stop.”
His arms bracketed me, his palms pressing into the mattress. He nuzzled against me. “I’ll make you a deal, angel. I’ll wear out when you do.”
“Ugh.�
�� I stared at myself in the mirror, shifting from side to side. “It’s never a good idea to put on a bikini after pigging out.”
I tugged at the bandeau top of the emerald green swimsuit Gideon had picked up in the lobby shop, then tried to rearrange the fit of the bottom.
He appeared behind me, looking sexy and yummy in a pair of black board shorts. His arms came around me from behind, hefting the weight of my breasts in his palms. “You look amazing. I want to peel this off you with my teeth.”
“Do it.” Why go to the beach? We’d been to the beach last weekend.
“Do you still want pictures of us here?” His gaze met mine in the mirror. “If not, I’m good with tossing you back in the bed and having my way with you again.”
I chewed my lower lip, debating.
He pulled me back against him. Without my heels on, he could set his chin on the crown of my head. “Can’t decide? Okay, we’ll go down to the beach, just so you don’t regret not going later. Thirty minutes … an hour … then we’ll come back up until we have to leave.”
I melted. He was always thinking about me and what I needed. “I love you so much.”
The look that came over his face nearly stopped my heart. “You believe me,” he whispered. “Always.”
Turning my head, I pressed my cheek against his chest. “Always.”
“It’s a beautiful picture,” my mother whispered, keeping her voice down because the guys were all sleeping. The jet’s cabin lights were dimmed, the men all reclined in their seats. “I just wish it didn’t show so much of your derriere.”
I smiled, my gaze on the tablet in her hand. Vientos Cruzados Barra had photographers on staff to cover the many events, conventions, and weddings that took place on the beautiful property. Gideon had arranged for one to photograph us on the beach, having them shoot from a distance so that I wasn’t even aware.
The previously released photos of us in Westport had Gideon pinning me beneath him with the surf lapping at our legs. The new photos were of us in the sun, with him sprawled on his back and me lying atop him, my arms crossed over his abs and my chin on my hands. We were talking, my gaze on his face as he looked at me and ran his fingers through my hair. Yes, the Brazilian cut of my bikini meant my ass was on display, but what really stood out was the intensity of Gideon’s focus on me and the easy, comfortable familiarity between us.
My mom looked at me. There was a sadness in her eyes I couldn’t understand. “I had hoped you two would have a quiet, normal life. But the world isn’t going to let that happen.”
The photo had gone viral shortly after it was posted to a media site. Speculation was rampant. How could I be with Gideon in Rio and be okay with him fucking two other women? Was our sex life that kinky? Or maybe it wasn’t Gideon Cross in the photo at the club.
Before he’d fallen asleep, Gideon had told me his public relations team was working around the clock, fielding calls and managing his social media. As of today, the official answers were simply to confirm that I had been in Rio with Gideon. He said he’d handle the rest personally when he got home, although he was cagey about how he was going to do that.
“You’re being secretive,” I’d accused, without heat.
“For now,” he had agreed with a faint smile.
I put my hand over my mom’s. “It’s going to be okay. We won’t always be so interesting to people. And we’re going away for a month after the wedding. That’s nearly a lifetime with no news about us. The media will move on.”
“I hope so,” she sighed. “You’re getting married on Saturday. I can’t believe it. There’s still so much to do.”
Saturday. Only a handful of days away. I didn’t think it was possible for Gideon and me to feel any more married than we already did, but it would be nice to say our vows with our families watching.
“Why don’t you come over to the penthouse tomorrow?” I suggested. “I would love for you to see it and we can discuss everything that still needs to be decided. We’ll have lunch in and just hang out.”
Her face brightened. “What a wonderful idea! I would love that, Eva.”
Leaning over the armrests, I kissed her cheek. “Me, too.”
“You’re not even going to take a nap?” I watched, astonished, as Gideon shifted through his closet.
He was wearing only boxer briefs, his hair towel-dried after the shower he’d taken the moment we got home. I was on the bed, feeling exhausted and wrung out even though I’d slept on the plane.
“It’ll be a short day,” he said, pulling out a dark gray suit. “I’ll be home early.”
“You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get enough sleep. I don’t want you sick at our wedding or on our honeymoon.”
He pulled the blue tie I loved off his tie rack. “I’m not going to get sick.”
I looked at the clock on his nightstand. “It’s not even seven! You never go to work this early.”
“I have things to do.” He buttoned his shirt quickly. “Stop nagging me.”
“I am not nagging.”
He shot me an amused look. “Didn’t you get enough of me yesterday?”
“Oh my God. Are you full of yourself or what?”
He sat and tugged on his socks. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll give you more when I get home.”
“I want to throw something at you right now.”
Gideon was dressed in a flash, yet somehow looked so polished and perfect. That only soured my mood more.
“Stop scowling at me,” he chastised, bending to kiss the top of my head.
“It takes me forever to look as good as you do without trying,” I grumbled. “And you’re wearing my favorite tie.” It brought out the color of his eyes, made sure you didn’t see anything else but him and how gorgeous he was.
He smiled. “I know. When I get home, would you like me to fuck you while wearing it?”
I pictured it and my scowl faded. What would it be like if he just opened his fly and screwed me with one of his power suits on? Totally hot. In more ways than one.
“We sweat too much.” I pouted at the thought. “We’d ruin it.”
“I’ve got a dozen.” He straightened. “You’re staying home today, right?”
“Wait. You’ve got a dozen of those ties?”
“It’s your favorite,” he replied simply, as if that explained everything. Which I supposed it did. “Home, right?” he repeated.
“Yes, my mom will be here in a few hours and I have calls to make.”
He started toward the door. “Take a nap, grumpy angel. Dream about me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, hugging a pillow and closing my eyes.
I dreamed of him. Of course.
“Most of the RSVPs have come in already,” my mom said, running her fingers over the trackpad on her laptop to show me a spreadsheet that made my eyes cross. “I didn’t expect so many guests would attend on such short notice.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Honestly, I hadn’t a clue. I didn’t even fully know who all had been invited to the reception. I just knew it was Sunday evening, at one of Gideon’s hotels in the city.
We never would have gotten the space we needed otherwise. Scott never said so, but I had to think someone else’s event had gotten bumped at the last minute. And the number of rooms we’d reserved to accommodate my dad’s side of the family … I hadn’t considered any of that when I picked Gideon’s birthday as the date.
“Yes, it’s great.” My mom smiled at me, but it was a tight smile. She was stressed to the max and I felt bad about that, too.
“It’s going to be wonderful, Mom. Totally amazing. And we’re all going to be so happy, we won’t care if something goes wrong.” She flinched and I rushed on. “Which it won’t. All of the staff are going to make sure they do everything right. This is their boss’s big day.”
“Yes.” She nodded, looking relieved. “You’re right. They’ll want everything to be perfect.”
“And it will be.” How could
it not? Gideon and I were already married, but celebrating his birthday was something we hadn’t done together yet. I couldn’t wait.
My smartphone chimed with a text message. I picked it up and read it, frowning. I reached for the TV remote.
“What is it?” my mom asked.
“I don’t know. Gideon wants me to turn the TV on.” My stomach tightened, worry crowding out the anticipation I’d just felt. How much more would we have to take?
I clicked on the channel he’d specified and recognized the set of a popular talk show. To my shock, Gideon was just settling into a chair at a table circled by the five female hosts—to applause, catcalls, and whistles. Think what they would about his fidelity, women couldn’t resist him. His charisma and sheer sexiness were a million times more potent in person.
“My God,” my mother breathed. “What is he doing?”
I turned up the volume.
As was to be expected, after congratulating him on our engagement, the hosts launched right into the topic of Rio and the infamous ménage à trois club photo. Of course, they made sure to point out that it couldn’t be shown on air because it was too risqué. But they directed viewers to the show’s website, which was highlighted on a banner that ran continuously along the bottom of the screen.
“Well, that’s subtle,” my mom snapped. “Why is he giving this any more attention?”
I hushed her. “He’s got a plan.” At least I hoped he did.
Holding a coffee mug branded with the show’s logo between both hands, Gideon looked thoughtful as the hosts all chimed in before letting him speak.
“Should we even be having bachelor and bachelorette parties anymore?” one of the hosts asked.
“Well, that’s one of the things I can clear up,” Gideon interjected, before they started debating that point. “Since Eva and I married last month and I’m no longer a bachelor, it couldn’t be a bachelor party.”
Behind them, on a massive video screen, the show’s logo gave way to a photo of Gideon kissing me after we’d said our vows.
