"You want him?" he asked tightly, before taking another drink.
"No," I whispered.
"I only want you.
I love you, Gideon.
So much it hurts."
His eyes closed and his head fell back.
I took the opportunity to crawl closer, needing to bridge the physical distance between us, at least.
"Did you come for me when I had my fingers inside you, Eva? Or because of his goddamn song?" Oh my God .
How he could doubt - ?I made him doubt.
I did that.
"You.
You're the only one who can get to me like that.
Make me forget where I am.
Make it so I don't care who's around or what's happening as long as you're touching me."
"Isn't that what happened when he kissed you?" Gideon's eyes opened and focused on me.
"He's had his dick in you.
He's f**ked you .
blown his load inside you."
I cringed away from the horrible bitterness in his tone, the vicious nastiness.
I knew just how he felt.
How badly the mental images could sting and claw until you felt like you were going mad.
In my mind, he and Corinne had f**ked dozens of times while I watched in sick, jealous fury.
He straightened suddenly, leaning forward to rub his thumb roughly across my lips.
"He's had your mouth."
I grabbed his glass and drank what was left in it, hating the harsh taste and searing burn.
I swallowed by force of will alone.
My stomach roiled, protesting.
The heat of the alcohol spread outward from my gut.
Gideon sagged back into the seat, his arm thrown across his face.
I knew he was still seeing me kissing Brett.