by Sylvia Day
Gripping my hips, he supported me. I took him deeper, my eyes on his as they grew heavy. A rumbling sound filled the space between us and I grew slicker, hotter.
It didn’t matter how many times I had him, I always wanted more. More of the way he responded to me, as if nothing had ever felt the same, as if I gave him something he could get nowhere else.
I clung to the back of the seat and rolled my hips, taking a little more. I could feel him pressing against the deepest part of me, but I couldn’t fit all of him. I wanted to. I wanted everything he had.
“Our first time,” he said hoarsely, watching me. “You rode me right here, drove me out of my mind. You blew the top of my fucking head off.”
“It was so good,” I breathed, dangerously close to coming. He was so thick, so hard. “Ah, God. It’s better now.”
His fingers dug into my hips. “I want you more now.”
Gasping, I pressed my temple to his. “Help me.”
“Hold on.” Yanking my hips down, he thrust upward, shoving into me. “Take it, Eva. Take it all.”
I cried out and ground into him, moving on instinct, taking the last of him.
“Yes . . . yes . . .” I gasped, slamming my hips into his, pumping my sex up and down the rigid length of his erection.
Gideon’s face was harsh with lust, brutally etched with his need. “I’m going to come so hard for you,” he promised darkly. “You’ll feel me in you all night.”
The sound of his voice . . . the way he’d looked onstage . . . I’d never been so excited. He wasn’t the only one who’d be coming hard.
His head fell back against the seat, his chest heaving, harsh sounds of pleasure scraping from his throat. His hands released me, clenching into fists against the seat. He let me fuck him the way I needed to, let me use him.
Arching back, I climaxed with a cry, my entire body shaking, my sex grasping, rippling along his cock. My rhythm faltered, my vision blackened. An endless moan poured out of me, the relief dizzying.
The world shifted and I was on my back, Gideon rising over me, his arm hooking beneath my left leg to lift it to his shoulder. He dug his feet into the floorboard, thrusting again and again, sinking deep. So deep.
I writhed, the feel of him so good it hurt.
He kept me pinned, opened and defenseless, using me as I’d used him, his control shattered by the need to orgasm. The power of his body as he pounded into me, the force with which he drove his cock into my tender sex, had me quivering on the verge again.
“I love you,” I moaned, my hands stroking down his flexing thighs.
He growled my name and started coming, his teeth clenching, his hips pressed tight to my own, screwing deep. It set me off, the feel of him coming inside me.
“So good,” he groaned, rocking into the spasms of my sex.
We strained together, grasping at each other.
He buried his face in my throat. “Love you.”
Tears stung my eyes. He said the words so rarely.
“Tell me again,” I begged, holding on to him.
His mouth found mine. “I love you . . .”
—
“MORE,” I demanded, licking my lips.
Gideon glanced over his shoulder at me. Bacon sizzled in the pan in front of him and my mouth watered for another slice. “And here I’d thought two packs of bacon would last us all weekend.”
“Grease is a must after a night of drinking,” I told him, wiping some off my plate with my fingertip and lifting it to my mouth. “When you’re not hung over, that is.”
“Which I am,” Cary muttered, walking into the kitchen in just his jeans, which he hadn’t bothered buttoning all the way. “Got any beer?”
Gideon pointed at the fridge with his tongs. “Bottom drawer.”
I shook my head at my best friend. “Hair of the dog this morning?”
“Hell, yeah. My head feels like it’s splitting in two.” Cary pulled a beer out and joined me at the island. He popped the cap off and tipped the bottle back, gulping down half the contents at once.
“How’d you sleep?” I asked, mentally crossing my fingers.
He’d stayed the night in the attached single-bedroom apartment, and I hoped he loved it. It had all the beautiful prewar details of Gideon’s penthouse and was furnished similarly. I knew Cary’s style was more contemporary, but he couldn’t fault the view of Central Park. All the rest could be changed, if he just said the word.
He lowered the bottle from his mouth. “Like the dead.”
“Do you like the apartment?”
“Of course. Who wouldn’t?”
“Do you want to live there?” I persisted.
Cary gave me a lopsided smile. “Yeah, baby girl. It’s a dream. Thank you for the pity fuck, Gideon.”
My husband turned away from the stove with a plate of bacon in his hand. “There is neither pity nor fucking included in the offer,” he said dryly. “Otherwise, you’re welcome.”
I clapped my hands. “Yay! I’m stoked.”
Gideon snagged a piece of bacon and stuck it in his mouth. Leaning forward, I parted my lips. He bent toward me, letting me bite off the end.
“Come on,” Cary groaned. “I’m fighting nausea as it is.”
I shoved him gently. “Shut up.”
He grinned and finished his beer. “Gotta give you guys a hard time. Who else is going to stop you two from singing ‘I Got You, Babe’ in a few years?”
Thinking of Will and Natalie made me smile. I’d discovered even more to like about Will and found that I got along well with his girl, too. “Aren’t they adorable? They’ve been together since high school.”
“Exactly my point,” he drawled. “Spend enough years with someone and either you start bickering or you fall down the lovey-dovey hole, never to be seen again.”
“Mark and Steven have been together for years, too,” I argued. “They don’t fight or moon at each other.”
He shot me a look. “They’re gay, Eva. No estrogen in the mix to cause drama.”
“Oh my God. You sexist pig! You did not just say that.”
Cary glanced at Gideon. “You know I’m right.”
“And with that,” Gideon declared, grabbing three strips of bacon, “I’m out.”
“Hey!” I complained after him, as he exited to the living room.
My best friend laughed. “Don’t worry. He hitched himself to your brand of female.”
I glared at him as I munched another piece of bacon. “I’m giving you a pass, because I owe you for last night.”
“It was fun. Megumi’s good people.” His humor fled, his face darkening. “I’m sorry she’s going through what she is.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“You make any decisions about how you’re going to help others like her?”
I set my elbows on the island. “I’m going to talk to Gideon about working with his Crossroads Foundation.”
“Hell. Why didn’t you think of that before?”
“Because . . . I’m stubborn, I guess.” I glanced over my shoulder at the living room, then lowered my voice. “One of the things Gideon likes about me is that I don’t always do everything he wants just because he wants it. He’s not like Stanton.”
“And you don’t want to be like your mom. Does this mean you’re keeping your maiden name?”
“No way. It means a lot to Gideon for me to become Eva Cross. Besides, it sounds kick-ass.”
“It does.” He tapped the end of my nose with his finger. “I’m here for you when you need me.”
Sliding off the stool, I hugged him. “Same goes.”
“I’m taking you up on that, obviously.” His chest heaved with a deep sigh. “Big changes happening, baby girl. You ever get scared?”
I looked up at him, feeling the affinity that had gotten us both through some hard times. “More than I let myself think about.”
“I have to run to the office,” Gideon interjected, stepping back into the kitchen wearing a Ya
nkees ball cap. He’d kept the same gray T-shirt on but had swapped out his pajama bottoms for sweats. A ring of keys twirled around his finger. “I won’t be long.”
“Is everything all right?” I asked, backing away from Cary. My husband was wearing his game face, the one that told me his mind was already on whatever he was going to deal with.
“Everything’s fine.” He came to me and gave me a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Ireland won’t be here ’til six.”
He left. I stared after him.
What was important enough to drag him away from me on a weekend? Gideon was possessive about a lot of things when it came to me, but our time together topped the list. And the key-twirling thing was kind of weird. Gideon wasn’t a man given to wasted movement. The only times I’d seen him fidget were when he was completely relaxed or the opposite—ready to throw down.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something from me. As usual.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” Cary said, grabbing a bottled water out of the fridge. “You want to watch a movie when I get out?”
“Sure,” I said absently. “Sounds like a plan.”
I waited until he’d gone back into the attached apartment, then went to find my phone.
11
“WHERE’S EVA?”
I rounded the front of the Benz and stepped onto the curb in front of Brett Kline. My fingers twitched, the habit of extending my hand in greeting ruthlessly suppressed. The singer’s hands had touched my wife intimately in the past . . . and recently. I didn’t want to shake them. I wanted to break them.
“At our home,” I answered, gesturing at the entrance to the Crossfire Building. “Let’s go up to my office.”
Kline smiled coldly. “You can’t keep me from her.”
“You did that all by yourself.” I noted the worn Pete’s T-shirt he was wearing with black jeans and leather boots. Without a doubt, his choice of attire wasn’t a coincidence. He wanted to remind Eva of their history together. Maybe even remind me, too. Had Yimara given him the idea? I wouldn’t be surprised.
It was the wrong move for both men to have made.
He walked through the revolving doors ahead of me. Security took his information and printed out a temporary ID, then we headed through the turnstiles to the elevators.
“You can’t intimidate me with your money,” he said tightly.
I entered the car and hit the button for the top floor. “There are eyes and ears all over the city. At least in my office, I know we won’t be putting on a show.”
His lip curled in disgust. “Is that all you care about? Public perception?”
“An ironic question, considering who you are and what you want.”
“Don’t act like you know me,” he growled. “You know shit.”
In the confined space of the elevator car, Kline’s aggression and frustration permeated the space between us. His hands gripped the handrail behind him, his stance hostile and expectant. From the platinum tips of his spiked hair to the black-and-gray tattoos covering his arms, the front man of Six-Ninths couldn’t be more different from me in appearance. I used to feel threatened by that and his history with Eva, but no longer.
Not after San Diego. And certainly not after last night.
I could still feel the marks of Eva’s nails in my back and ass. She’d pushed me to my limits all night and into the early hours of the morning. The insatiable hunger she felt for me left no room for anyone else. And the catch in her voice when she told me she loved me, the sheen of tears in her eyes when I yielded to what she did to me . . .
I leaned back against the opposite wall and tucked my hands into the pockets of my sweats, knowing my nonchalance would goad him.
“Does she know we’re meeting like this?” he asked harshly.
“I figured I’d leave it up to you to decide whether to mention it.”
“Oh, I’m mentioning it all right.”
“I hope you do.”
We exited into the Cross Industries foyer and I led him through the security doors and back to my office. There were a few people at their desks and I took note of them. Those who worked on their days off weren’t always better employees than those who didn’t, but I respected ambition and rewarded it.
When we got to my office, I shut the doors behind us and frosted the glass. A folder sat on my desk, as I’d instructed before leaving the penthouse. I set my hand atop it and gestured for Kline to take a seat.
He remained standing. “What the fuck is this about? I come into town to see Eva and your goon brings me here instead.”
The “goon” was security provided by Vidal Records, but he wasn’t wrong in thinking the man worked for me. “I’m prepared to offer you a great deal of money—along with other incentives—for the exclusive rights to the Yimara footage of you and Eva.”
He gave me a hard smile. “Sam told me you were going to try this. That tape is none of your business. It’s between me and Eva.”
“And the entire world if it leaks, and that would destroy her. Does that matter to you at all, how she feels about it?”
“It’s not going to leak, and of course I give a shit about how she feels. It’s one of the reasons we need to talk.”
I nodded. “You want to ask her what you can use. You think you can talk her into letting you exploit some of it.”
He rocked back on his feet, a restless move that signaled a direct hit.
“You’re not going to get the answer you hope for,” I told him. “The very existence of that tape horrifies her. You’re an idiot if you think otherwise.”
“It’s not all sex. There’s some good stuff of us hanging out. Her and I, we had something. She wasn’t just a lay to me.”
Piece of shit. I had to control the impulse to deck him.
He smirked. “Not that you’d understand. You had no problem banging away at that brunette until I came back into the picture, then you changed up your game. Eva’s a toy you got bored with. Until someone else wanted her.”
His mention of Corinne hit a harsh chord. The charade of dating my ex had nearly cost me Eva, a close call that still haunted me.
That didn’t prevent me from noticing how good he was at shifting the blame. “Eva knows what she means to me.”
He stepped closer to my desk. “She’s too blinded by your billions to realize there’s something really wrong with you hiding that bogus wedding in a foreign country. Is it even legal?”
It was a question I’d anticipated. “Absolutely legal.”
Opening the folder, I pulled out the photo inside. It was taken on the day of my wedding, at the very moment I first kissed Eva as her husband. The beach and the pastor who had officiated at the ceremony were behind us. I cupped her face, our lips touching softly. Her hands held my wrists, my ring sparkling on her finger.
I turned the picture around so that it faced him. I slid a copy of the marriage license into place beside it. I used my left hand, proudly displaying my ruby-encrusted wedding band.
I wasn’t sharing such personal things to prove a point. I intended to provoke Kline, which I’d been deliberately doing from the moment he arrived in New York. When he reached out to my wife again, I wanted him off-balance and at a disadvantage.
“So you and Eva are done,” I said evenly. “If you doubted it, now you know it for sure. In any case, I don’t think you want my wife as much as you want the memory of her for the band’s use.”
Kline laughed. “Yeah, paint me as the sleaze. You can’t handle the thought of her seeing that tape. You’ve never made her get that wild and you never will.”
My forearms twitched with the need to pound the smugness out of his face. “Believe what you like. Here are your options: You can take the two million I’m offering, give me the footage, and walk away—”
“I don’t want your damn money!” Setting his hands on the edge of my desk, he leaned toward me. “You don’t get to own my memories. You may have her—for now—but I h
ave those. Fuck if I’m selling them to you.”
The thought of Kline watching the footage . . . watching himself fuck my wife . . . set my blood on a slow boil. The thought of him suggesting that Eva sit through a viewing of it, knowing how that would shatter her, pushed me to the raw edge of violence.
Keeping my tone even was a struggle. “You can reject the money and keep the existence of the footage to yourself until you die. Make it a secret gift to Eva she never has to know about.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Or you can be a selfish asshole,” I continued, “and hit her up with it, shocking her with the goal of destroying her marriage and making yourself more famous.”
I stared him down. Kline stood his ground, but his gaze dropped for a fraction of a second. A small victory, for what it was worth.
With a swipe of my hand, I withdrew the contract Arash had drawn up. “If you care about her at all, you’ll make a different decision than the one that brought you to New York.”
He grabbed the documents off my desk and ripped them in half, throwing the pieces back onto the glass. “I’m not leaving until I see her.”
Kline strode out of my office, bristling with anger.
I watched him go. Then I placed a call via a secure line. “Did I give you enough time?”
“Yes. We took care of the laptop and tablet in his luggage as soon as you took him upstairs. We’re handling his e-mail and backup provider servers as we speak, and the backups to those servers. We searched his residence over the weekend, but he hasn’t been there in weeks. We cleaned everything on both Yimara and Kline’s equipment, as well as the accounts and equipment of those who received teasers of the full-length footage. One of the execs at Vidal had a full copy on his hard drive, but we wiped it. We found no evidence that he forwarded it anywhere.”
Ice slid through my veins. “Which executive?”
“Your brother.”
Fuck. I gripped the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles cracked with the strain. I remembered the video of Christopher with Magdalene, knew how perverse his hatred toward me was. Thinking about him seeing Eva so intimately . . . so vulnerable . . . took me to a place I hadn’t been since I’d first heard about Nathan.
