My lips were all over him, my arms and legs holding tight.
He collapsed against me, his lungs heaving for breath.
Still coming.
10
THE FIRST THING I saw when I woke up Sunday morning was an amber bottle labeled HANGOVER CURE in an old-fashioned font. A raffia bow adorned the neck and a cork stopper kept the stomach-turning contents safe. The “cure” worked, as I’d learned the last time Gideon had given me the stuff, but the sight of it reminded me of how much alcohol I’d consumed the night before.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I groaned and buried my head in the pillow, willing myself back to sleep.
The bed shifted. Warm, firm lips drifted down my bare spine. “Good morning, angel mine.”
“You sound ridiculously pleased with yourself,” I muttered.
“Pleased with you, actually.”
“Fiend.”
“I was referring to your crisis management suggestions, but of course the sex was phenomenal, as always.” His hand slid beneath the sheet that was pooled around my waist and he squeezed my ass.
I lifted my head and found him propped against the headboard beside me with his laptop on his thighs. He looked mouthwatering, as usual, completely relaxed in drawstring lounging pants. I was certain I was looking far less attractive. I’d taken the limo home with the girls, then met up with Gideon at his apartment. It was nearly dawn before I’d finished with him and I’d been so tired, I crashed with hair still wet from a hasty shower.
A tingle of pleasure moved through me at finding him next to me. He’d slept in the guest room, and he had an office to work in. The fact that he chose to work in the bed I slept in meant he’d just wanted to be near me, even while I was unconscious.
I turned my head to look at the bedside clock, but my gaze snagged on my wrist instead.
“Gideon …” The watch that had been placed on my arm while I slept enchanted me. The Art Deco–inspired timepiece sparkled with hundreds of tiny diamonds. The band was a creamy satin and the mother-of-pearl face was branded with both Patek Philippe and Tiffany & Co. “It’s gorgeous.”
“There are only twenty-five of those in the world, which isn’t nearly as unique as you are, but then, what is?” He smiled down at me.
“I love it.” I pushed up onto my knees. “I love you.”
He shoved his laptop aside in time for me to straddle him and hug him tightly.
“Thank you,” I murmured, touched by his thoughtfulness. He would’ve gone out for it while I was at my mother’s or maybe just after I left with the girls.
“Umm. Tell me how to earn one of these na**d hugs every day.”
“Just be you, ace.” I rubbed my cheek against his. “You’re all I need.”
I slid out of bed and padded over to the bathroom with the small amber bottle in my hand. I guzzled the contents down with a shudder, brushed my teeth and hair, and then washed my face. I pulled on a robe and returned to the bedroom, finding Gideon gone and his laptop lying open in the middle of the bed.
I passed him in his office, seeing him standing with his feet planted wide and his arms crossed, facing the window. The city stretched out in front of him. Not the skyline view he had in his Crossfire office or his penthouse, but a closer vantage. More grounded and immediate. The connection with the city more intimate.
“I don’t share your concern,” he said briskly into his earpiece mic. “I’m aware of the risk … Stop talking. The subject isn’t open to debate. Draw up the agreement as specified.”
Recognizing that all-business note of steel in his voice, I kept walking. I still wasn’t sure exactly what was in the bottle, but I suspected it was vitamins and liquor of some sort. Hair of the dog. It was warming my belly and making me feel lethargic, so I went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee.
Supplied with caffeine, I plopped down on the couch and checked my smartphone for messages. I frowned when I saw that I’d missed three calls from my dad, all before eight in the morning in California. I also noted a dozen missed calls from my mom, but I figured Monday was soon enough to deal with her again. And there was a text from Cary that shouted, CALL ME!
I called my dad back first, trying to swallow a quick drink of coffee before he answered.
“Eva.”
The anxious way my dad said my name told me something was wrong. I sat up straighter. “Dad … Is everything all right?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Nathan Barker?” His voice was hoarse and filled with pain. Goose bumps swept across my skin.