Bared to You

by Sylvia Day

  “I’m not interested.”

  Cross glanced over his shoulder at me. His shirt and tie were both the same awesome cerulean as his irises. The effect was striking. “No lies, Eva. Ever.”

  “That’s not a lie. So what if I’m attracted to you? I expect most women are.” Wrapping up what was left of my candy bar, I shoved it back into the shopping bag I’d tucked into my purse. I didn’t need chocolate when I was sharing air with Gideon Cross. “But I’m not interested in doing anything about it.”

  He faced me then, turning in a leisurely pivot, that ghost of a smile softening his sinful mouth. His ease and unconcern aggravated me further. “Attraction is too tame a word for”—he gestured at the space between us—“this.”

  “Call me crazy, but I have to actually like someone before I get naked and sweaty with them.”

  “Not crazy,” he said. “But I don’t have the time or the inclination to date.”

  “That makes two of us. Glad we got that cleared up.”

  He stepped closer, his hand lifting to my face. I forced myself not to move away or give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated. His thumb brushed over the corner of my mouth; then lifted to his own. He sucked on the pad and purred, “Chocolate and you. Delicious.”

  A shiver moved through me, followed by a heated ache between my legs as I imagined licking chocolate off his lethally sexy body.

  His gaze darkened and his voice lowered intimately. “Romance isn’t in my repertoire, Eva. But a thousand ways to make you come are. Let me show you.”

  The car slowed to a halt. He withdrew the key from the panel and the doors opened.

  I backed into the corner and shooed him out with a flick of my wrist. “I’m really not interested.”

  “We’ll discuss.” Cross caught me by the elbow and gently, but insistently, urged me out.

  I went along because I liked the charge I got from being around him and because I was curious to see what he had to say when afforded more than five minutes of my time.

  He was buzzed through the security door so quickly there was no need for him to break stride. The pretty redhead at the reception desk pushed hastily to her feet, about to impart some information until he shook his head impatiently. Her mouth snapped shut and she stared at me as we passed at a brisk pace, her eyes wide.

  The walk to Cross’s office was mercifully short. His secretary stood when he saw his boss’s approach, but remained silent when he noted that Cross wasn’t alone.

  “Hold my calls, Scott,” Cross said, steering me into his office through the open glass double doors.

  Despite my irritation, I couldn’t help but be impressed with Gideon Cross’s spacious command center. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city on two sides, while a wall of glass faced the rest of the office space. The one opaque wall opposite the massive desk was covered in flat screens streaming news channels from around the world. There were three distinct seating areas, each one larger than Mark’s entire office, and a bar that showcased jeweled crystal decanters, which provided the only spots of color in a palette that was otherwise black, gray, and white.

  Cross hit a button on his desk that closed the doors; then another that instantly frosted the clear glass wall, effectively shielding us from the view of his employees. With the beautiful sapphire-hued reflective film on the exterior windows, privacy was assured. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a chrome coatrack. Then he returned to where I’d remained standing just inside the doors. “Something to drink, Eva?”

  “No, thank you.” Damn it. He was even yummier in just the vest. I could better see how fit he was. How strong his shoulders were. How beautifully his biceps and ass flexed as he moved.

  He gestured toward a black leather sofa. “Have a seat.”

  “I have to go back to work.”

  “And I have a meeting at two. The sooner we work this out, the sooner we can both get back to business. Now, sit down.”

  “What do you think we’re going to work out?”

  Sighing, he scooped me up like a bride and carried me over to the sofa. He dropped me on my butt; then sat next to me. “Your objections. It’s time to discuss what it’s going to take to get you beneath me.”

  “A miracle.” I pushed back from him, widening the space between us. I tugged at the hem of my emerald green skirt, wishing I’d worn pants instead. “I find your approach crude and offensive.”

  And a major turn-on, but I was never going to admit it.

  He contemplated me with narrowed eyes. “It may be blunt, but it’s honest. You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who wants bullshit and flattery instead of the truth.”

  “What I want is to be seen as having more to offer than an inflatable sex doll.”

  Cross’s brows shot up. “Well, then.”

  “Are we done?” I stood.

  Wrapping my wrist with his fingers, he pulled me back down. “Hardly. We’ve established some talking points: We have an intense sexual attraction and neither of us wants to date. So what do you want—exactly? Seduction, Eva? Do you want to be seduced?”

  I was equally fascinated and appalled by the conversation. And, yes, tempted. It was hard not to be while faced with such a gorgeous, virile male so determined to get hot and sweaty with me. Still, the dismay won out. “Sex that’s planned like a business transaction is a turnoff for me.”

  “Establishing parameters in the beginning makes it less likely that there’ll be exaggerated expectations and disappointment at the conclusion.”

  “Are you kidding?” I scowled. “Listen to yourself. Why even call it a fuck? Why not be clear and call it a seminal emission in a preapproved orifice?”

  He pissed me off by throwing his head back and laughing. The full, throaty sound flowed over me like a rush of warm water. My awareness of him heightened to a physically painful degree. His earthy amusement made him less sex god and more human. Flesh and blood. Real.

  I pushed to my feet and backed out of reach. “Casual sex doesn’t have to include wine and roses, but for God’s sake, whatever else it is, sex should be personal. Friendly even. With mutual respect at the very least.”

  His humor fled as he stood, his eyes darkening. “There are no mixed signals in my private affairs. You want me to blur that line. I can’t think of a good reason to.”

  “I don’t want you to do jack shit, besides let me get back to work.” I strode to the door and yanked on the handle, cursing softly when it didn’t budge. “Let me out, Cross.”

  I felt him come up behind me. His palms pressed flat to the glass on either side of my shoulders, caging me in. I couldn’t think of my own self-preservation when he was so close.

  The strength and demand of his will exuded an almost tangible force field. When he stepped close enough, it surrounded me, closing me in with him. Everything outside of that bubble ceased to exist, while inside it my entire body strained toward his. That he had such a profound, visceral effect on me while being so damn irritating had my mind spinning. How could I be so turned on by a man whose words should’ve turned me completely off?

  “Turn around, Eva.”

  My eyes closed against the surge of arousal I felt at his authoritative tone. God, he smelled good. His powerful frame radiated heat and hunger, spurring my own wild desire for him. The uncontrollable response was intensified by my lingering frustration with Stanton and my more recent aggravation with Cross himself.

  I wanted him. Bad. But he was no good for me. Honestly, I could screw up my life on my own. I didn’t need any help.

  My flushed forehead touched the air-conditioned glass. “Let it go, Cross.”

  “I am. You’re too much trouble.” His lips brushed behind my ear. One of his hands pressed flat to my stomach, the fingers splaying to urge me back against him. He was as aroused as I was, his cock hard and thick against my lower back. “Turn around and say good-bye.”

  Disappointed and regretful, I turned in his grip, sagging against the door to cool my hea
ted back. He was curved over me, his luxurious hair framing his beautiful face, his forearm propped against the door to bring him closer. I had almost no room to breathe. The hand he’d had at my waist was now resting on the curve of my hip, tightening reflexively and driving me mad. He stared, his gaze searingly intense.

  “Kiss me,” he said hoarsely. “Give me that much.”

  Panting softly, I licked my dry lips. He groaned, tilted his head, and sealed his mouth over mine. I was shocked by how soft his firm lips were and the gentleness of the pressure he exerted. I sighed and his tongue dipped inside, tasting me in long leisurely licks. His kiss was confident, skilled, and just the right side of aggressive to turn me on wildly.

  I distantly registered my purse hitting the floor; then my hands were in his hair. I pulled on the silky strands, using them to direct his mouth over mine. He growled, deepening the kiss, stroking my tongue with lush slides of his own. I felt the raging beat of his heart against my chest, proof that he wasn’t just a hopeless ideal conjured by my fevered imagination.

  He pushed away from the door. Cupping the back of my head and the curve of my buttocks, he lifted me off my feet. “I want you, Eva. Trouble or not, I can’t stop.”

  I was pressed full-body against him, achingly aware of every hot, hard inch of him. I kissed him back as if I could eat him alive. My skin was damp and too sensitive, my breasts heavy and tender. My clit throbbed for attention, pounding along with my raging heartbeat.

  I was vaguely aware of movement, and then the couch was against my back. Cross was levered over me with one knee on the cushion and the other foot on the floor. His left arm supported his torso while his right hand gripped the back of my knee, sliding upward along my thigh in a firmly possessive glide.

  His breath hissed out when he reached the point where my garter clipped to the top of my silk stocking. He tore his gaze away from mine and looked down, pushing my skirt higher to bare me from the waist down.

  “Jesus, Eva.” A low rumble vibrated in his chest, the primitive sound sending goose bumps racing across my skin. “Your boss is damned lucky he’s gay.”

  In a daze, I watched Cross’s body lower to mine, my legs sliding apart to accommodate the width of his hips. My muscles strained with the urge to lift toward him, to hasten the contact between us that I’d been craving since I first laid eyes on him. Lowering his head, he took my mouth again, bruising my lips with a fine edge of violence.

  Abruptly, he yanked himself away, stumbling to his feet.

  I lay there gasping and wet, so willing and ready. Then I realized why he’d reacted so fiercely.

  Someone was behind him.

  Mortified by the sudden intrusion into our privacy, I scrambled up and back into the armrest, yanking down my skirt.

  “…two o’clock appointment is here.”

  It took an endless moment to realize Cross and I were still alone in the room, that the voice I’d heard had come through a speaker. Cross stood at the far end of the sofa, flushed and scowling, his chest heaving. His tie was loosened and the fly of his slacks strained against a very impressive erection.

  I had a nightmare vision in my head of what I must look like. And I was late getting back to work.

  “Christ.” He shoved both hands through his hair. “It’s the middle of the fucking day. In my goddamn fucking office!”

  I got to my feet and tried to straighten my appearance.

  “Here.” He came to me, yanking my skirt up again.

  Furious at what I’d almost let happen when I should be at work, I smacked at his hands. “Stop it. Leave me alone.”

  “Shut up, Eva,” he said grimly, catching the hem of my black silk blouse and tugging it into place, adjusting it so that the buttons once again formed a straight row between my breasts. Then he pulled down my skirt, smoothing it with calm, expert hands. “Fix your ponytail.”

  Cross retrieved his coat, shrugging into it before adjusting his tie. We reached the door at the same time and when I crouched to fetch my purse, he lowered with me.

  He caught my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

  My throat burned. I was aroused and mad and thoroughly embarrassed. I’d never in my life lost my mind like that. And I hated that I’d done so with him, a man whose approach to sexual intimacy was so clinical it depressed me just thinking about it.

  I jerked my chin away. “Do I look okay?”

  “You look beautiful and fuckable. I want you so badly it hurts. I’m dangerously close to taking you back to the couch and making you come ’til you beg me to stop.”

  “Can’t accuse you of being silver-tongued,” I muttered, aware that I wasn’t offended. In fact, the rawness of his hunger for me was a serious aphrodisiac. Clutching the strap of my purse, I stood on shaky legs. I needed to get away from him. And, when my workday was done, I needed to be alone with a big glass of wine.

  Cross stood with me. “I’ll be done by five. I’ll come get you then.”

  “No, you won’t. This doesn’t change anything.”

  “The hell it doesn’t.”

  “Don’t be arrogant, Cross. I lost my head for a second, but I still don’t want what you want.”

  His fingers curled around the door handle. “Yes, you do. You just don’t want it the way I want to give it to you. So, we’ll revisit and revise.”

  More business. Cut-and-dried. My spine stiffened.

  I set my hand over his and yanked on the handle, ducking under his arm to squeeze out the door. His secretary shoved quickly to his feet, gaping, as did the woman and two men who were waiting for Cross. I heard him speak behind me.

  “Scott will show you into my office. I’ll be just a moment.”

  He caught me by reception, his arm crossing my lower back to grip my hip. Not wanting to make a scene, I waited until we were by the elevators to pull away.

  He stood calmly and hit the call button. “Five o’clock, Eva.”

  I stared at the lighted button. “I’m busy.”

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  “I’m busy all weekend.”

  Stepping in front of me, he asked tightly, “With whom?”

  “That’s none of your—”

  His hand covered my mouth. “Don’t. Tell me when, then. And before you say never, take a good look at me and tell me if you see a man who’s easily deterred.”

  His face was hard, his gaze narrowed and determined. I shivered. I wasn’t sure I’d win a battle of wills with Gideon Cross.

  Swallowing, I waited until he lowered his hand and said, “I think we both need to cool off. Take a couple days to think.”

  He persisted. “Monday after work.”

  The elevator arrived and I stepped into it. Facing him, I countered, “Monday lunch.”

  We’d have only an hour, a guaranteed escape.

  Just before the doors closed, he said, “We’re going to happen, Eva.”

  It sounded as much like a threat as a promise.

  “Don’t sweat it, Eva,” Mark said, when I arrived at my desk nearly a quarter after two. “You didn’t miss anything. I had a late lunch with Mr. Leaman. I just barely got back myself.”

  “Thank you.” No matter what he said, I still felt terrible. My kick-ass Friday morning seemed to have happened days ago.

  We worked steadily until five, discussing a fast-food client and contemplating some possible tweaks to ad copy for a chain of organic grocery stores.

  “Talk about strange bedfellows,” Mark had teased, not knowing how apt that was in regard to my personal life.

  I’d just shut down my computer and was pulling my purse out of the drawer when my phone rang. I glanced at the clock, saw it was exactly five, and considered ignoring the call because I was technically done for the day.

  But since I was still feeling shitty about my overly-long lunch, I considered it penance and answered. “Mark Garrity’s—”

  “Eva honey. Richard says you forgot your cell phone at his office.”r />
  I exhaled in a rush and sagged back into my chair. I could picture the handkerchief wringing that usually accompanied that particular anxious tone of my mother’s. It drove me nuts and it also broke my heart. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m lovely. Thank you.” My mom had a voice that was both girlish and breathy, like Marilyn Monroe crossed with Scarlett Johansson. “Clancy dropped your phone off with the concierge at your place. You really shouldn’t go anywhere without it. You never know when you might need to call for someone—”

  I’d been debating the logistics of just keeping the phone and forwarding calls to a new number I didn’t share with my mom, but that wasn’t my biggest concern. “What does Dr. Petersen say about you tracing my phone?”

  The silence on the other end of the line was telling. “Dr. Petersen knows I worry about you.”

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “I think it’s time for us to have another joint appointment, Mom.”

  “Oh…of course. He did mention that he’d like to see you again.”

  Probably because he suspects you’re not being forthcoming. I changed the subject. “I really like my new job.”

  “That’s wonderful, Eva! Is your boss treating you well?”

  “Yes, he’s great. I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

  “Is he handsome?”

  I smiled. “Yes, very. And he’s taken.”

  “Damn it. The good ones always are.” She laughed and my smile widened.

  I loved it when she was happy. I wished she were happy more often. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow at the advocacy dinner.”

  Monica Tramell Barker Mitchell Stanton was in her element at society functions, a gilded shining beauty who’d never lacked male attention in her life.

  “Let’s make a day of it,” my mom said breathlessly. “You, me, and Cary. We’ll go to the spa, get pretty and polished. I’m sure you could use a massage after working so hard.”

  “I won’t turn one down, that’s for sure. And I know Cary will love it.”

  “Oh, I’m excited! I’ll send a car by your place around eleven?”