He snarled like a feral beast, his hands fisted and his legs kicking restlessly. I moved back, afraid he'd strike out at me unknowingly in his dreams.
"Get off of me," he panted.
"Gideon! Wake up."
"Get...off..." His h*ps arched upward with a hiss of pain. He hovered there, teeth gritted, his back bowed as if the bed was on fire beneath him. Then he collapsed, the mattress jolting as he bounced off of it.
"Gideon." I reached for the bedside lamp, my throat burning. I couldn't reach it, had to throw the tangled blankets off to get closer. Gideon was writhing in agony, thrashing so violently he shook the bed.
The room lit up in a sudden flare of illumination. I turned toward him...
And found him masturbating with shocking viciousness.
His right hand gripped his c*ck with white knuckled force, pumping brutally fast. His left hand clenched the fitted sheet. Torment and pain twisted his beautiful face.
Fearing for his safety, I shoved his shoulder with both hands. "Gideon, goddamn it. Wake up!"
My scream broke through the nightmare. His eyes flew open and he jerked upright, his eyes darting frantically.
"What?" he gasped, his chest heaving. His face was flushed, his lips and cheeks red with arousal. "What is it?"
"Jesus." I shoved my hands through my hair and slid out of bed, snatching up the black robe I'd hung over the footboard.
What was in his mind? What could make someone have such violently sexual dreams?
My voice shook. "You were having a nightmare. You scared the hell out of me."
"Eva." He looked down at his erection and his color darkened with shame.
I stared at him from my safe place by the window, tying the sash of my robe with a yank. "What were you dreaming about?"
He shook his head, his gaze lowered with humiliation, a vulnerable posture I didn't know or recognize in him. It was as if someone else had taken over Gideon's body. "I don't know."
"Bullshit. Something's in you, something's eating at you. What is it?"
He rallied visibly as his brain struggled free of sleep. "It was just a dream, Eva. People have them."
I stared at him, hurt blooming that he would take that tone with me, as if I was being irrational. "Screw you."
His shoulders squared, and he tugged the sheet over his lap. "Why are you mad?"
"Because you're lying."
His chest expanded on a deep breath; then he released it in a rush. "I'm sorry I woke you."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache gathering strength. My eyes stung with the need to cry for him, to cry for whatever torment he'd once lived through. And to cry for us, because if he didn't let me in, our relationship had nowhere to go.
"One more time, Gideon: what were you dreaming about?"
"I don't remember." He ran a hand through his hair and slid his legs off the edge of the bed. "I have some business on my mind and it's probably keeping me up. I'm going to work in my home office for a while. Come back to bed, and try to get some sleep."
"There were a few right answers to that question, Gideon. 'Let's talk about it tomorrow' would've been one. 'Let's talk about it over the weekend' would've been another. And even 'I'm not ready to talk about it' would be okay. But you have some nerve acting like you don't know what I'm talking about while speaking to me like I'm unreasonable."
"Angel - "
"Don't." My arms wrapped around my waist. "Do you think it was easy telling you about my past? Do you think it was painless cutting myself open and letting the ugliness spill out? It would've been simpler to cut you off and date someone less prominent. I took the risk because I want to be with you. Maybe someday you'll feel the same way about me."
I left the room.