“Only for you.”
“Ooh, right answer.”
He smirked. His c**k lengthened. “You should reward me.”
I moved away from the threshold and stepped closer. “How would you suggest I do that?”
“Any way you like.”
That was a gift, too. Gideon rarely relinquished control, and then only to me.
“I don’t have enough time to do you justice, ace. I’d hate to cut things short when they’re just getting interesting.” I set my hand on the glass. “How about we revisit after my workout tonight? You, me, and whatever I want to do to you?”
He shifted and faced me head on, his hand lifting to press against mine through the glass. His gaze slid over my face in a heated caress that was damn near tangible. His face was impassive, a strikingly handsome mask that revealed nothing. But his eyes . . . those stunning blue depths . . . they exposed tenderness and love and vulnerability.
“I’m all yours, angel,” he said, his words so quiet I saw them more than heard them.
I pressed a kiss to the cool glass. “Yes,” I agreed. “You are.”
—
NEW week. Same ultrafocused Gideon. He started working as soon as the Bentley pulled away from the curb, his fingers flying across the keyboard built into a dropdown tray table. I watched him, finding his intense concentration and confidence extremely sexy. I was married to a powerful, driven man, and watching him flex that ambition was a major turn-on.
I was so into watching him that I jumped when my smartphone vibrated in my purse against my hip.
“Jeez,” I muttered, digging it out.
Brett’s name and photo appeared on the lock screen. Knowing I needed to deal with him at some point if I expected him to stop calling, I answered.
“Hey,” I answered cautiously.
“Eva.” The timbre of Brett’s now-famous voice hit me as forcefully as it always had, but not in the same way. I loved the way he sang, but that love wasn’t intimate anymore. It wasn’t personal. I admired him the way I did a dozen other singers. “Damn it, I’ve been trying to reach you for a week!”
“I know. I’m sorry, I’ve been busy. How are you?”
“I’ve been better. I need to see you.”
My brows rose. “When are you coming to town?”
He laughed harshly, a humorless sound that rubbed me the wrong way. “Incredible. Listen, I don’t want to get into it on the phone. Can we get together today? We need to talk.”
“You’re in New York? I thought you were on tour . . . ?”
Gideon’s rapid-fire typing didn’t slow and he didn’t look at me, but I could feel his energy shift. He was paying attention, and he knew who was on the line.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on when I see you,” Brett said.
I frowned out the window as we idled at a light, my gaze on the flood of pedestrians crossing the street. New York was teeming with life and frenetic energy, gearing up to do world-changing business. “I’m on my way to work. What’s going on, Brett?”
“I can meet you for lunch. Or after you get off for the day.”
I debated saying no, but the determination in his tone gave me pause. “Okay.”
Reaching over, I set my hand on Gideon’s thigh. The toned muscle was hard beneath my palm, even though he was at rest. The tailored suits polished his form into civility, but I knew the truth about the vigorously fit body that was only hinted at underneath. “I can see you at lunch, if we stick close to the Crossfire Building.”
“All right. What time should I be there?”
“A little before noon would be best. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”