was no help for it.
My body responded instinctively to the sight of his, which made it even harder for me to rein in my rioting emotions.
His open, neatly pressed dress shirt revealed golden skin stretched tightly over washboard abs and perfectly defined pectorals.
A dusting of dark hair over his chest arrowed down and darkened into a thin line, leading to a cock presently encased in boxer briefs and slacks.
Just thinking about how he felt inside me made me ache with longing.
"I got something on my shirt."
He began buttoning up, his abs flexing with his movements as he crossed over to the bar, where I saw his cuff links waiting.
"I have to run.
If you need something, let Scott know and he'll see to it.
Or I'll take care of it when I get back.
I shouldn't be more than two hours."
"Why are you running late?" He didn't look at me when he answered, "I had to squeeze in a last- minute meeting."
Did you now? "You showered this morning."
After making love to me for an hour.
"Why did you have to shower again?" "Why the inquisition?" he snapped.
Needing answers, I went to the washroom.
The lingering humidity was oppressive.
Ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to look for trouble I couldn't bear to find, I dug his shirt out of the laundry basket .
and saw red lipstick smeared like a bloodstain on one of the cuffs.
Pain twisted through my chest.
Dropping the garment on the floor, I pivoted and left, needing to get as far away from Gideon as possible.
Before I threw up or started sobbing.
"Eva!" he snapped as I hurried past him.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" "Fuck you, asswipe."
"Excuse me?" My hand was on the door handle when he caught me, yanking me back by the elbow.
Spinning, I slapped him with enough force to turn his head and set my palm on fire.
"Goddamn it," he growled, grabbing me by the arms and shaking me.
"Don't fucking hit me!" "Don't touch me!" The feel of his bare hands on the bare skin of my arms was too much.
He shoved back and away from me.
"What the fuck's gotten into you?" "I saw her, Gideon."
"Saw who?" "Corinne!" He scowled.
"What are you talking about?" Pulling my smartphone out, I thrust the photo in his face.
"Busted."
Gideon's gaze narrowed on the screen, and then his scowl cleared.
"Busted doing what, exactly?" he asked, too softly.
"Oh, screw you."
I turned toward the door, shoving my phone in my purse.
"I'm not spelling it out for you."
His palm slapped against the glass, holding the door closed.
Caging me with his body, he leaned down and hissed in my ear, "Yes.
Yes, you goddamn will spell it out."
I squeezed my eyes shut as our position at the door brought back a flood of heated memories from the first time I'd been in Gideon's office.
He'd stopped me just like this, seducing me deftly, drawing us into a passionate embrace on the very couch that had recently seen some kind of action forceful enough to shove it out of position.
"Doesn't a picture say a thousand words?" I bit out through clenched teeth.
"So Corinne was manhandled.
What does that have to do with me?" "Are you kidding me? Let me out."
"I don't find anything even remotely funny about this.
In fact, I don't think I've ever been this pissed off at a woman.
You come in here with your half-assed accusations and self- righteous bullshit - " "I am righteous!" I twisted around and ducked beneath his arm, putting some much-needed distance between us.
Being close to him hurt too much.
"I would never cheat on you! If I wanted to fuck around, I'd break it off with you first."
Leaning into the door, Gideon crossed his arms.
His shirt remained untucked and open at the collar, a look I found hot and tempting, which only made me angrier.
"You think I cheated on you?" His tone was clipped and icy.
I sucked in a deep breath to get through the pain of imagining him with Corinne on the sofa behind me.
"Explain to me why she was here at the Crossfire, looking like she did.
Why your office looks like this.
Why you look like that."
His gaze went to the couch, then to the cushion on the floor, then back to me.
"I don't know why Corinne was here or why she looked like that.
I haven't seen her since last night, when you were with me."
Last night seemed like it'd happened forever ago.
I wished that it had never happened at all.
"But I wasn't with you," I pointed out.
"She batted her eyelashes