Bared to You

by Sylvia Day

  My hands fisted in the bedspread, anticipation building. He’d made sure I got mine, over and over again. This would be for him.

  “Fuck me,” I ordered, daring him with my eyes.

  “Eva.” He snapped out my name as he rammed into me, sinking balls-deep in one fierce drive.

  I gasped. He was big, hard as stone, and so damn deep. The connection was startlingly intense. Emotionally. Mentally. I’d never felt so completely…taken. Possessed.

  I wouldn’t have thought I could bear to be restrained during sex, not with my past being what it was, but Gideon’s total domination of my body ratcheted my desire to an outrageous level. I’d never been so hot for it in my life, which seemed insane after what I’d experienced with him so far.

  I clenched around him, relishing the feel of him inside me, filling me.

  His hips ground against mine, prodding as if to say, Feel me? I’m in you. I own you.

  His entire body hardened, the muscles of his chest and arms straining as he pulled out to the tip. The rigid tightening of his abs was the only warning I got before he slammed forward. Hard.

  I cried out and his chest rumbled with a low, primitive sound. “Christ…You feel so good.”

  Tightening his hold, he starting fucking me, nailing my hips to the mattress with wildly fierce drives. Pleasure rippled through me again, pushing through me with every hot shove of his body into mine. Like this, I thought. I want you just like this.

  He buried his face in my neck and held me tightly in place, plunging hard and fast, gasping raw, heated sex words that made me crazed with desire. “I’ve never been so hard and thick. I’m so deep in you…I can feel it against my stomach…feel my dick pounding into you.”

  I’d thought of this round as his, and yet he was still with me, still focused on me, swiveling his hips to stroke pleasure through my melting core. I made a small, helpless sound of need and his mouth slanted over mine. I was desperate for him, my nails digging into his pumping hips, struggling with the grinding urge to rock into the ferocious thrusts of his big cock.

  We were dripping in sweat, our skin hot and slicked together, our chests heaving for air. As an orgasm brewed like a storm inside me, everything tightened and clenched, squeezing. He cursed and shoved one hand beneath my hip, cupping my rear and lifting me into his thrusts so that his cock head stroked over and over the spot that ached for him.

  “Come, Eva,” he ordered harshly. “Come now.”

  I climaxed in a rush that had me sobbing his name, the sensation enhanced and magnified by the way he’d confined my body. He threw his head back, shuddering.

  “Ah, Eva!” He clasped me so tightly I couldn’t breathe, his hips pumping as he came long and hard.

  I’ve no idea how long we lay like that, leveled, mouths sliding over shoulders and throats to soothe and calm. My entire body tingled and pulsed.

  “Wow,” I managed finally.

  “You’ll kill me,” he muttered with his lips at my jaw. “We’re going to end up fucking each other to death.”

  “Me? I didn’t do anything.” He’d controlled me completely and how freakin’ sexy was that?

  “You’re breathing. That’s enough.”

  I laughed, hugging him.

  Lifting his head, he nuzzled my nose. “We’re going to eat, and then we’ll do that again.”

  My brows lifted. “You can do that again?”

  “All night.” He rolled his hips and I could feel that he was still semi-hard.

  “You’re a machine,” I told him. “Or a god.”

  “It’s you.” With a soft sweet kiss, he left me. He removed the condom, wrapped it in a tissue from the nightstand, and tossed the whole in the wastebasket by the bed. “We’ll shower, then order from the restaurant downstairs. Unless you want to go down?”

  “I don’t think I can walk.”

  The flash of his grin stopped my heart for a minute. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

  “You look fine.”

  “I feel phenomenal.” He sat back on the side of the bed and brushed my hair back from my forehead. His face was soft, his smile warmly affectionate.

  I thought I saw something else in his eyes and the possibility closed my throat. It scared me.

  “Shower with me,” he said, running his hand down my arm.

  “Gimme me a minute to find my brain, then I’ll join you.”

  “Okay.” He went into the bathroom, giving me a prime view of his sculpted back and perfect ass. I sighed with pure female appreciation of a prime male specimen.

  The water came on in the shower. I managed to sit up and slide my legs over the side of the bed, feeling exquisitely shaky. My gaze caught on the slightly open bedside drawer and I saw condoms through the gap.

  My stomach twisted. The hotel was too upscale to be the kind that provided condoms along with the requisite Bible.

  With a slightly trembling hand, I pulled the drawer out further and found a sizable quantity of prophylactics, including a bottle of feminine lubrication and spermicidal gel. My heart started pounding all over again. In my mind, I backtracked through our lust-fueled trip to the hotel. Gideon hadn’t asked which rooms were available. Whether he had a master key or not, he’d need to know which rooms were occupied before he took one…unless he’d known beforehand that this particular room would be empty.

  Clearly it was his room—a fuck pad outfitted with everything he’d need to have a good time with the women who served that purpose in his life.

  As I pushed to my feet and walked over to the closet, I heard the glass shower door open in the bathroom, then close. I caught the two knobs of the louvered walnut closet doors and pushed them apart. There was a small selection of men’s clothes hanging on the metal rod, some business shirts and slacks, as well as khakis and jeans. My temperature dropped and a sick misery spread through my orgasmic high.

  The right side dresser drawers held neatly folded T-shirts, boxer briefs, and socks. The top one on the left side held sex toys still in their packages. I didn’t look at the drawers below that one. I’d seen enough.

  I pulled on my pants and stole one of Gideon’s shirts. As I dressed, my mind went through the steps I’d learned in therapy: Talk it out. Explain what triggered the negative feelings to your partner. Face the trigger and work through it.

  Maybe if I’d been less shaken by the depth of my feelings for Gideon, I could have done all that. Maybe if we hadn’t just had mind-blowing sex, I would have felt less raw and vulnerable. I’d never know. What I felt was slightly dirty, a little bit used, and a whole lot hurt. This particular revelation had hit me with excruciating force, and like a child, I wanted to hurt him back.

  I scooped up the condoms, lube, and toys, and tossed them on the bed. Then, just as he called out my name in an amused and teasing voice, I picked up my bag and left him.

  I kept my head down as I made the walk of shame past the registration desk and exited the hotel through a side door. I was red-faced with embarrassment remembering the manager who’d greeted Gideon as we got on the elevator. I could only imagine what he’d thought of me. He had to know what Gideon reserved that room for. I couldn’t stand the thought of being the next in a line of many and yet that’s exactly what I’d been from the moment we entered the hotel.

  How hard would it have been to stop by the front desk and secure a room that was ours alone?

  I started walking with no direction or destination in mind. It was dark out now, the city taking on a whole new life and energy from what it had during the business day. Steaming food carts dotted the sidewalks, along with a vendor selling framed artwork, another hawking novelty T-shirts, and yet another who had two folding tables covered in movie and television episode scripts.

  With every step I took, the adrenaline from my flight burned away. The maliciously gleeful thoughts of Gideon coming out of the bathroom to find an empty room and paraphernalia-strewn bed ran their course. I began to calm down…and seriously think about what had just happe
ned.

  Was it a coincidence that Gideon invited me to a gym that just so happened to be conveniently close to his fuck pad?

  I remembered the conversation we’d had in his office over lunch and the way he’d struggled to express himself to keep me. He was as confused and torn about what was happening between us as I was, and I knew how easy it was to fall into established patterns. After all, hadn’t I just fallen into one of my own by bailing? I’d spent enough years in therapy to know better than to wound and run when I was hurting.

  Heartsick, I stepped into an Italian bistro and took a table. I ordered a glass of shiraz and a pizza margherita, hoping wine and food would calm the vibrating anxiety inside me so that I could think properly.

  When the waiter returned with my wine, I gulped down half the glass without really tasting it. I missed Gideon already, missed the playful happy mood he’d been in when I left. His scent was all over me—the smell of his skin and hot, grinding sex. My eyes stung and I let a few tears slide down my face, despite being in a very public, very busy restaurant. My food came and I picked at it. It tasted like cardboard, although I doubted that had anything to do with the chef or the venue.

  Pulling over the chair where I’d set my bag, I dug out my new smartphone with the intention of leaving a message with Dr. Travis’s answering service. He’d suggested we have video chat appointments until I found a new therapist in New York and I decided to take him up on that offer. That’s when I noticed the twenty-one missed calls from Gideon and a text; I fucked up again. Don’t break up with me. Talk to me. Pls.

  The tears welled again. I held the phone to my heart, at a loss for what to do. I couldn’t get the images of Gideon and other women out of my mind. I couldn’t stop picturing him fucking the hell out of another woman on that same bed, using toys on her, driving her crazy, taking his pleasure from her body…

  It was irrational and pointless to think of such things, and it made me feel petty and small and physically sick.

  I startled when the phone vibrated against me, nearly dropping it. Nursing my misery, I debating letting it go to voice mail because I could see on the screen that it was Gideon—plus he was the only one who had the number—but I couldn’t ignore it, because he was clearly frantic. As much as I’d wanted to wound him earlier, I couldn’t stand to do it now.

  “Hello.” My voice didn’t sound like mine, clogged as it was with tears and emotion.

  “Eva! Thank God.” Gideon sounded so anxious. “Where are you?”

  Looking around, I didn’t see anything that would tell me the name of the restaurant. “I don’t know. I…I’m sorry, Gideon.”

  “No, Eva. Don’t. It’s my fault. I need to find you. Can you describe where you’re at? Did you walk?”

  “Yes. I walked.”

  “I know which exit you took. Which way did you head?” He was breathing quickly and I could hear the sounds of traffic and car horns in the background.

  “To the left.”

  “Did you turn any corners after that?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know.” I looked around for a server I could ask. “I’m in a restaurant. Italian. There’s seating on the sidewalk…and a wrought iron fence. French doors…Jesus, Gideon, I—”

  He appeared, silhouetted in the entrance with the phone held to his ear. I knew him immediately, watched as he froze when he saw me seated against the wall toward the back. Shoving the phone into the pocket of jeans he’d had stored at the hotel, he strode past the hostess who’d starting speaking to him and headed straight for me. I barely managed to get to my feet before he hauled me against him and embraced me tightly.

  “God.” He shook slightly and buried his face in my neck. “Eva.”

  I hugged him back. He was fresh from a shower, making me achingly aware of my need for one.

  “I can’t be here,” he said hoarsely, pulling back to cup my face in his hands. “I can’t be in public right now. Will you come home with me?”

  Something on my face must have betrayed my lingering wariness, because he pressed his lips to my forehead and murmured, “It won’t be like the hotel, I promise. My mother’s the only woman who’s ever been to my place, aside from the housekeeper and staff.”

  “This is stupid,” I muttered. “I’m being stupid.”

  “No.” He brushed the hair back from my face and bent closer to whisper in my ear. “If you’d taken me to a place you reserved for fucking other men, I would’ve lost it.”

  The waiter returned and we pulled apart. “Should I get you a menu, sir?”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Gideon dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed over his credit card. “We’re leaving.”

  We took a cab to Gideon’s place and he held on to my hand the entire time. I shouldn’t have been so nervous riding a private elevator up to a penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue. The sight of high ceilings and prewar architecture wasn’t new to me, and really, it was all to be expected when dating a man who seemed to own damn near everything. And the coveted view of Central Park…well, of course he’d have one.

  But Gideon’s tension was palpable, and it made me realize that this was a big deal to him. When the elevator opened directly into his apartment’s marbled entry foyer, his grip on my hand tightened before he released me. He unlocked the double-door entrance to usher me inside, and I could feel his anxiety as he watched for my reaction.

  Gideon’s home was as beautiful as the man himself. It was so very different from his office, which was sleek, modern, and cool. His private space was warm and sumptuous, filled with antiques and art anchored by gorgeous Aubusson rugs laid over gleaming hardwood floors.

  “It’s…amazing,” I said softly, feeling privileged to see it. It was a glimpse into the private Gideon I was desperate to know and it was stunning.

  “Come in.” He tugged me deeper into the apartment. “I want you to sleep here tonight.”

  “I don’t have clothes and stuff…”

  “All you need is the toothbrush in your purse. We can run by your place in the morning for the rest. I promise to get you to work on time.” He pulled me into him and set his chin on the crown of my head. “I’d really like you to stay, Eva. I don’t blame you for running, but it scared the hell out of me. I need to hang on to you for a while.”

  “I need to be held.” I pushed my hands under the back of his T-shirt to caress the silken hardness of his bare back. “I could also use a shower.”

  With his nose in my hair, he inhaled deeply. “I like you smelling like me.”

  But he led me through the living room and down a hall to his bedroom.

  “Wow,” I breathed when he flicked on the light. A massive sleigh bed dominated the space, the wood dark—which he seemed to prefer—and the linens a soft cream. The rest of the furnishings matched the bed and the accents were brushed gold. It was a warm, masculine space with no art on the walls to detract from the serene night view of Central Park and the magnificent residential buildings on the other side. My side of Manhattan.

  “The bathroom’s in here.”

  As I took in the vanity, which appeared to have been made out of an antique claw-footed walnut cabinet, he pulled towels out of a companion armoire and set them out for me, moving with that confident sensual grace I admired so much. Seeing him in his home, dressed so casually, touched me. Knowing I was the only woman to have this experience with him affected me even more. I felt like I was seeing him more naked now than I ever had. “Thank you.”

  He glanced at me and seemed to understand that I was talking about more than the towels. His stare burned through me. “It feels good to have you here.”

  “I have no idea how I ended up like this, with you.” But I really, really liked it.

  “Does it matter?” Gideon came to me, tilting my chin up to press a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I’ll lay out a T-shirt for you on the bed. Caviar and vodka sound good to you?”

  “Well…that’s quite a step up from pizza.”
r />   He smiled. “Petrossian’s Ossetra.”

  “I stand corrected.” I smiled back. “Several hundred steps up.”

  I showered and dressed in the oversized Cross Industries shirt he laid out for me; then I called Cary to tell him I’d be out all night and give him a brief rundown about the hotel incident.

  He whistled. “I’m not even sure what to say about that.”

  A speechless Cary Taylor spoke volumes.

  I joined Gideon in the living room, and we sat on the floor at the coffee table to eat the prized caviar with mini toast and crème fraiche. We watched a rerun of a New York-set police procedural that just happened to include a scene filmed on the street in front of the Crossfire.

  “I think it’d be cool to see a building I owned on TV like that,” I said.

  “It’s not bad, if they don’t close off the street for hours to film.”

  I bumped shoulders with him. “Pessimist.”

  We crawled into Gideon’s bed at ten thirty and watched the last half of a show while curled up together. Sexual tension crackled in the air between us, but he didn’t make any overtures so I didn’t either. I suspected he was still trying to make amends for the hotel, trying to prove that he wanted to spend time with me not “actively fucking.”

  It worked. As much as I desired his outrageously sexy body, it felt good just hanging out together.

  He slept in the nude, which was fabulous for me to cuddle up against. I tossed one leg over his, wrapped an arm around his waist, and rested my cheek over his heart. I don’t remember the ending of the show, so I suppose I fell asleep before it was over.

  When I woke it was still dark in the room and I’d rolled to the far side of my half of the bed. I sat up to see the digital clock face on Gideon’s nightstand and found it was barely three in the morning. I usually slept straight through the night and thought maybe the strange surroundings were keeping me from sleeping deeply; then Gideon moaned and shifted restlessly and I realized what had disturbed me. The sound he made was pained, his subsequent hiss of breath tormented.