Reflected in You: A Crossfire Novel (20 page)

“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 suite, 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.”

Guilt swamped me, and a terrible urge to cry. My hand shook as I ran a wide-toothed comb through my damp hair. The bathroom had been stocked with my usual toiletries, demonstrating once again how thoughtful and attentive Gideon was, which only emphasized my deficits. I was making his life hell. After all he’d already suffered, my issues were the last thing he needed to deal with.

I took the stairs down to the first floor and found myself unable to join Gideon in the kitchen. I needed a minute to pull myself together and put on a happy face. I didn’t want to ruin the weekend for him, too.

I stepped out through the French doors that led to the deck. The roar of the surf and the biting salt spray hit me at once. The hem of my robe whipped gently in the ocean breeze, cooling me in a way I found invigorating.

Taking a deep breath, I gripped the railing and closed my eyes, trying to find the peace I needed to keep Gideon from worrying. My problem was
me
, and I didn’t want to concern him with something he couldn’t change. Only
I
could make myself a stronger person, and I needed to, if I wanted to make him happy and offer him the security he so desperately wanted from me.

The door opened behind me, and I took a deep breath before turning to face him with a smile. Gideon came out with two steaming mugs gripped in one hand—one filled with black coffee and the other lightened with half-and-half. I knew it would be made perfectly to my tastes and delicious, because Gideon knew exactly what I liked. Not because I’d told him, but because he paid attention to everything about me.

“Stop beating yourself up,” he ordered sternly, setting the mugs on the railing.

I sighed. Of course I couldn’t hide my mood from him with just a smile. He saw right through me.

He caught my face in his hands and glared down at me. “It’s over and done with. Forget it.”

I reached out and ran my fingertips over the place where I’d seen the bruise.

“It needed to happen,” he said curtly. “No. Shut up and listen to me. I thought I understood your feelings about Corinne, and, frankly, I thought you just weren’t dealing with it well. But I had no clue. I was a self-centered idiot.”

“I’m
not
dealing with it well. I hate her fucking guts. I can’t think about her without feeling violent.”

“I get it now. I didn’t before.” His mouth twisted ruefully. “Sometimes it takes something drastic to shake me up. Luckily, you’ve always been very good at getting my attention.”

“Don’t try to tease this away, Gideon. You could’ve been seriously hurt because of me.”

He caught me by the waist when I would’ve turned away. “I
was
seriously hurt because of you. Seeing you in another guy’s arms, kissing him . . .” His eyes grew hot and dark. “It shredded me, Eva. Cut me open and left me bleeding. I kicked his ass in self-defense.”

“Oh, God,” I breathed, devastated by his brutal honesty. “Gideon.”

“I’m disgusted with myself for not being more understanding about Corinne. If a kiss could make me feel like that . . .” He wrapped his arms tight around me, one arm banding my hips while the other crossed my back so he could grip the back of my head. Capturing me.

“If you ever cheated on me,” he said hoarsely, “it would kill me.”

Turning my head, I pressed my lips to his throat. “That stupid kiss meant nothing. Less than nothing.”

His hand gripped my hair and tilted my head back. “You don’t understand what your kisses mean to me, Eva. For you to just give one away and call it stupid—”

Gideon dipped his head and sealed his mouth over mine. It started softly, sweet and teasing, his tongue stroking across my bottom lip. I opened my mouth, my tongue flicking out to touch his. He tilted his head and licked into my mouth. Fast, shallow licks that stirred a simmering desire.

I reached up and slid my fingers into his damp hair, pushing up onto my tiptoes to deepen the kiss. I moaned when he sucked on my tongue, leaning heavily against him. His lips moved against mine, growing wetter and hotter. We ate at each other, growing wilder by the second until we were fucking each other’s mouths, passionately mating with lips and tongues and tiny bites. I was panting with my hunger for him, my lips slanting over his, needy sounds spilling from my throat.

His kisses were gifts. He kissed with everything he had, with power and passion and hunger and love. He held nothing back, giving everything, exposing everything.

Tension gripped his powerful frame, his rough satin skin growing feverishly hot. His tongue was plunging into my mouth, tangling with mine, his quickened breaths mingling with my own and filling my lungs. My senses were drenched in him, in his flavor and scent, my mind spinning as I angled my head, seeking a deeper taste. Wanting to lick deeper, suck harder. Devour.