Reflected in You

by Sylvia Day

  He whispered in my ear like the devil himself. “Tell me why, Eva. Are you thinking of him now? Are you wishing it were his cock inside you? Wishing it were his cock fucking your perfect little cunt?”

  I screamed again. “I hate you! You’re a sadistic, selfish son of a—”

  He was in me again, filling me, stroking rhythmically into my quivering core.

  Unable to stand it a minute longer, I struggled to reach my clit with my fingers, knowing a single stroke would have me coming violently.

  “No.” Gideon caught my wrists and held my hands down on the seat, his thighs between my own, keeping my legs spread wide so he could sink deep. Over and over. The tempo of his thrusts unfaltering and relentless.

  I was thrashing, screaming, losing my mind. He could make me come with just his cock, giving me an intense vaginal orgasm just from riding me at the right angle, rubbing his thick crest over and over whatever spot I needed him to, a random place inside me he knew instinctively every time he had me.

  “I hate you,” I sobbed, tears of frustration wetting my face and the seat beneath my cheek.

  Bending over me, he gasped in my ear, “Tell me why, Eva.”

  Fury boiled up inside me and spewed out. “Because you deserved it! Because you should know what it feels like! How bad it hurts, you self-centered asshole!”

  He stilled. I felt his breath heave out of him. My blood was roaring in my ears, so loudly that at first I thought I was deliriously imagining his voice softening with tenderness.

  “Angel.” His lips brushed over my shoulder blade, his hands releasing my wrists to slide beneath me and cup my full, heavy breasts. “My stubborn, beautiful angel. Finally, we get to the truth.”

  Gideon lifted me up, straightening me. Exhausted, my head lolled against his shoulder, my tears dripping onto my chest. I had nothing left to fight with, barely able to whimper when he rolled an aching nipple between his fingertips and reached between my splayed legs. His hips began to lunge, his cock pumping upward into me as he pinched the lips of my sex around my throbbing clit and rubbed.

  I came with a hoarse cry of his name, my entire body convulsing in fierce tremors as the relief exploded through me. The orgasm lasted forever and Gideon was tireless, extending my pleasure with the perfect thrusts I’d been so frantic for earlier.

  When I finally collapsed in his arms, panting and soaked with sweat, he lifted me carefully off him and placed me lengthwise on the bench seat. Shattered, I covered my face with my hands, incapable of stopping him when he pushed my thighs apart and put his mouth on me. I was soaked with his semen and he didn’t care, tonguing and suckling my clit until I came again. And again.

  My back arched with each orgasm, my breath soughing from my lungs. I lost track of how many times I climaxed after they began rolling into each other, cresting and waning like the tide. I tried to curl away from him, but he just straightened and yanked his shirt off, climbing over me with one knee on the seat and the other leg extended to the floor. He placed his hands on the window above my head, putting his body on display as he’d refused to do before.

  I shoved at him. “No more! I can’t take any more.”

  “I know.” His abs tightened as he slid into me, his eyes on my face as he pushed carefully through swollen tissues. “I just want to be inside you.”

  My neck arched as he slid deeper, a low sound escaping me because it felt sooo good. As worn out and overstimulated as I was, I still craved to possess him and to be possessed by him. I knew I always would.

  Bending his head, he pressed his lips to my forehead. “You’re all I want, Eva. There’s no one else. There will never be anyone else.”

  “Gideon.” He understood, as I hadn’t, that the night had fallen apart because of my jealousy and the deep-seated need I had to make him feel it for himself.

  He kissed me softly, reverently, erasing every memory of anyone else’s lips on mine.

  * * *

  “Angel.” Gideon’s voice was a warm rasp in my ear. “Wake up.”

  I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut tighter and burying my face deeper in his neck. “Leave me alone, you sex fiend.”

  His silent laughter shook me. He pressed a hard kiss to my forehead and wiggled out from under me. “We’re here.”

  Cracking one eye open, I watched him put his shirt back on. He’d never gotten out of his jeans. I realized the sun was out. I sat up and looked out the windows, gasping when I saw the ocean. We’d stopped for gas once but I hadn’t been able to get my bearings or figure out where we were. Gideon had declined to tell me when I asked, saying only that it was a surprise.

  “Where are we?” I breathed, thrilled by the sight of the sun climbing over the water. It had to be solidly into morning. Maybe even midmorning.

  “North Carolina. Lift your arms.”

  I obeyed automatically, and he slid my tank top over my head. “I need my bra,” I muttered, when I could see him again.

  “No one’s here to see you but me and we’re going straight into the bathtub.”

  I looked again at the weathered shingle-covered building we’d parked beside. It was at least three stories, with wraparound decks and balconies on the front and sides, and a quaint single-door entrance off the back. It stood on stilts at the shoreline, so close to the water that I knew the tide must come up right beneath it. “How long have we been driving?”

  “Almost ten hours.” Gideon slid my skirt up my legs and I stood, allowing him to twist it straight and pull up the zipper. “Let’s go.”

  He got out first, then held his hand out for me. The bracing, salty breeze hit my face, waking me. The rhythmic surge of the ocean grounded me to the moment and where we were. Angus was nowhere to be seen, which was a relief, since I was very aware of my lack of underwear. “Angus drove all night?”

  “We switched drivers when we stopped for gas.”

  I looked at Gideon and my pulse stuttered at the tender, haunted way he was looking at me. A shadow of a bruise marred his jaw and I reached up to touch it, my chest aching when he nuzzled into my palm.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” I asked, feeling so emotionally raw after the long night we’d had.

  He caught my wrist and pulled my hand down to press flat over his heart. “Here.”

  My love . . . It had been hard on him, too. “I’m so sorry.”

  “So am I.” He kissed my fingertips, then linked our hands and led me up to the house.

  The door was unlocked and he walked right in. A wire mesh basket sat on a console just inside the door, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses tied with ribbon. As Gideon turned the deadbolt with a firm click, I plucked the Welcome envelope out and opened it. A key fell into my palm.

  “We won’t be needing that.” He took the key from me and set it on the console. “For the next two days, we’re going to be hermits together.”

  A hum of pleasure warmed me from the inside, followed by more than a little awe that a man like Gideon Cross could enjoy my company so much he didn’t need anyone else.

  “Come on,” he said, tugging me toward the stairs. “We’ll break into that wine later.”

  “Yeah. Coffee first.”

  I took in the décor of the house. It was rustic on the outside and modern contemporary on the inside. The wainscoted walls were painted a bright white and decorated with massive black-and-white photos of seashells. The furniture was all white, and most of the accessory pieces were glass and metal. It would have been stark if not for the gorgeous view of the ocean and the color introduced in the area rugs covering the hardwood floors and the collection of hardcover books filling built-in bookcases.

  When we reached the top floor, I felt a flutter of happiness. The master suite was a totally open space, with only two support columns to break it up. Bouquets of white roses, white tulips, and white calla lilies covered nearly every flat surface, and some even sat on the floor in strategic areas. The bed was massive and covered in white satin, which made me think of a bridal s
uite, an impression reinforced by the black-and-white photo of a filmy scarf or veil blowing in the breeze hanging over the headboard.

  I looked at Gideon. “Have you been here before?”

  He reached up and freed my now-lopsided ponytail. “No. What reason would I have to come here?”

  Right. He didn’t take women anywhere but his hotel fuck pad—that he apparently still had. My eyes closed wearily as he ran his fingers through the loosened tresses of my hair. I didn’t have the energy to get riled up about that.

  “Take your clothes off, angel. I’ll start the bath.”

  He backed up. I opened my eyes and caught him by the shirt. I didn’t know what to say; I just didn’t want him to go.

  He understood, because he got me.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Eva.” Gideon cupped my jaw in his hands and stared into my eyes, showing me the intensity and laser focus that had snared me from the first. “If you wanted him, it wouldn’t be enough for me to let you go. I want you too much. I want you with me, in my life, in my bed. If I can have that, nothing else matters. I’m not too proud to take what I can get.”

  I swayed into him, drawn to his obsessive and insatiable raw need for me, which reflected the depth of my need for him. My hand fisted in the cotton of his T-shirt.

  “Angel,” he breathed, lowering his head to press his cheek to mine. “You can’t let me go, either.”

  He swept me up in his arms and carried me into the bathroom with him.

  Chapter 11

  I reclined with my eyes closed, my back cradled against Gideon’s chest, listening to the sound of lapping water as his hands glided lazily over me in the claw-foot tub.

  He’d washed my hair and then my body, pampering me, spoiling me. I knew he was making up for last night and the method he’d used to get me to face the truth—a truth he’d clearly known but needed me to see as well.

  How did he know me so well . . . better than I knew myself?

  “Tell me about him,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around my waist.

  I took a deep breath. I’d been waiting for him to ask about Brett. I knew Gideon well, too. “First, tell me if he’s okay.”

  There was a pause before he answered. “There’s no permanent damage. Would you care if there was?”

  “Of course I’d care.” I heard his teeth grind.

  “I want to know about you two,” he demanded tightly.

  “No.”

  “Eva . . .”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Gideon. I’m tired of being an open book for you while you hoard all your secrets.” My head rolled to the side so that my cheek was pressed against his damp chest. “If all I get of you is your body, I’ll take it. But I can’t give you more in return.”

  “You mean you won’t. Let’s be—”

  “I can’t.” I pulled away from him, twisting so that I faced him. “Look what it’s doing to me! I hurt you last night. On purpose. Without even realizing it, because the resentment is eating at me even while I’m convincing myself that I can live with everything you’re not telling me.”

  Sitting up, he spread his arms. “I’m wide open for you, Eva! You’re making it sound like you don’t know me . . . that all we have is sex . . . when you know me better than anyone else.”

  “Let’s talk about what I don’t know. Why do you own so much of Vidal Records? Why do you hate your family home? Why are you estranged from your parents? What’s between you and Dr. Terrence Lucas? Where’d you go the other night when I had that nightmare? What’s behind your nightmares? Why—”

  “Enough!” he snapped, shoving his hands through his wet hair.

  I settled back, watching and waiting as he clearly struggled with himself. “You should know you can tell me anything,” I said softly.

  “Can I?” He pierced me with his gaze. “Don’t you have enough to look past as it is? How much shit can I pile on you before you run like hell?”

  Laying my arms along the rim of the tub, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “Okay, then. We’ll just be fuck buddies who bitch to a therapist once a week. Good to know.”

  “I screwed her,” he spat. “There. Do you feel better?”

  I shot up so fast, water surged over the edge of the tub. My stomach cramped. “You screwed Corinne?”

  “No, damn it.” His face was flushed. “Lucas’s wife.”

  “Oh . . .” I remembered the photo I’d found of her through my Google search. “She’s a redhead,” I said lamely.

  “My attraction to Anne was based entirely on her relationship to Lucas.”

  I frowned, confused. “So things were off between you and Dr. Lucas before you slept with his wife? Or because of it?”

  Gideon set his elbow on the side of the tub and scrubbed at his face. “He alienated me from my family. I returned the favor.”

  “You broke them up?”

  “I broke her.” He exhaled harshly. “She came on to me at a fund-raiser. I brushed her off until I learned who she was. I knew it’d kill Lucas to know I’d banged her, and the opening was there so I took it. It was just supposed to be that once, but Anne contacted me the next day. Because it would hurt him more to know she couldn’t get enough, I let it go on. When she was ready to leave him for me, I sent her back to her husband.”

  I stared at him, noting his defiant embarrassment. He would do it again, but he was ashamed of what he’d done.

  “Say something!” he snapped.

  “Did she think you loved her?”

  “No. Fuck. I’m an asshole for nailing another man’s wife, but I didn’t promise her anything. I was screwing Lucas through her—I didn’t expect for her to become collateral damage. I wouldn’t have let it get that far, if I had.”

  “Gideon.” I sighed and shook my head.

  “What?” He was practically bristling with restless, anxious energy. “Why did you say my name like that?”

  “Because you’re ridiculously dense for such a smart guy. You were sleeping with her regularly and didn’t expect her to fall in love with you?”

  “Jesus.” His head fell back with a groan. “Not this again.”

  Then he straightened abruptly. “Actually, you know what? You keep on thinking I’m God’s gift to women, angel. It’s better for me if you believe I’m the best you can get.”

  I splashed him. The ease with which he dismissed his appeal was another way he mirrored me. We knew our strengths and played up our assets. But we couldn’t see what made us unique enough for someone to really love us.

  Gideon lunged forward and caught my hands. “Now, tell me what the fuck you had with Brett Kline.”

  “You didn’t tell me what Dr. Lucas did to piss you off.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Not the details,” I argued.

  “It’s your turn to spill. Out with it.”

  It took me a long time to get the words out. No guy wanted a recovering slut for his girlfriend. But Gideon waited patiently. Obstinately. I knew he wasn’t going to let me get out of the tub until I told him about Brett.

  “I was nothing but a convenient fuck for Brett,” I confessed in a rush, wanting to get it over with, “and I put up with it—went out of my way for it—because in that period of my life, sex was the only way I knew how to feel loved.”

  “He wrote a love song about you, Eva.”

  I looked away. “The truth wouldn’t make much of a ballad, would it?”

  “Did you love him?”

  “I— No.” I looked at Gideon when he exhaled audibly, as if he’d been holding his breath. “I had a crush on him and the way he sings, but it was totally superficial. I never got to really know him.”

  His entire body visibly relaxed. “He was part of a . . . phase? That’s it?”

  I nodded and tried to pull my hands free of his, wishing I could get past my feelings of shame. I didn’t blame Brett or any of the guys who’d drifted through my life then. I had no one to blame but myself.

  “Come here
.” Gideon caught me by the waist and pulled me closer, tucking me against his chest again. His embrace was the most wonderful feeling in the world. His hands stroked the length of my spine, gentling me. “I won’t lie. I want to beat the hell out of any man who’s had you—you’d be smart to keep them the hell away from me—but nothing in your past can change how I feel about you. And God knows I’m no saint.”

  “I wish I could make it go away,” I whispered. “I don’t like remembering the girl I was then.”

  He rested his chin atop the crown of my head. “I get it. It didn’t matter how long I showered after I’d been with Anne, it was never long enough to feel clean.”

  I tightened my arms around his waist, giving comfort and acceptance. And gratefully accepting both in return.

  * * *

  The white silk robe I found hanging in the closet was gorgeous. It was lined with the softest terrycloth and embroidered with silver thread at the cuffs. I loved it, which was a good thing since it was, apparently, the only article of clothing for me in the entire house.

  I watched Gideon pull on a pair of black silk pajama pants and tie the drawstring. “Why do you get clothes and I get a robe?”

  He glanced up at me through a lock of inky hair that draped over his brow. “Because I’m the one who arranged everything?”

  “Fiend.”

  “Just makes it easier for me to keep up with your insatiable sexual demands.”

  “My insatiable demands?” I headed into the bathroom to take the towel off my head. “I clearly remember begging to be left alone last night. Or was it this morning, after an all-nighter?”

  He filled the doorway behind me. “You’ll be begging again tonight, too. I’ll go make some coffee.”

  In the mirror, I watched him turn away and saw the darkening bruise on his side. It was low on his back, where I hadn’t had a chance to see it before. I spun around. “Gideon! You’re hurt. Let me see.”

  “I’m fine.” He was partway down the stairs before I could stop him. “Don’t take too long.”