The rear view of him showcased a perfect ass and a powerful back encased in a vest.On the wall was a massive collage of photos of us as a couple and one very intimate one that he'd taken of me while I was sleeping.
Most were pictures taken by the paparazzi who followed his every move.
He was Gideon Cross, of Cross Industries, and at the ridiculous age of twenty-eight, he was one of the top twenty-five richest people in the world.
I was pretty sure he owned a significant chunk of Manhattan; I was positive he was the hottest man on the planet.
And he kept photos of me everywhere he worked, as if I could possibly be as fun to look at as he was.
He turned, pivoting gracefully to catch me with his icy blue gaze.
Of course he'd known I was there, watching him.
There was a crackling in the air when we were near each other, a sense of anticipation like the coiled silence before the boom of thunder.
He'd probably deliberately waited a beat before facing me, giving me the opportunity to check him out because he knew I loved to look at him.
Dark and Dangerous.
And all mine.
God .
I never got used to the impact of that face.
Those sculpted cheekbones and dark winged brows, the thickly lashed blue eyes, and those lips .
perfectly etched to be both sensual and wicked.
I loved when they smiled with sexual invitation, and I shivered when they thinned into a stern line.
And when he pressed those lips to my body, I burned for him.
Jeez, listen to yourself.
My mouth curved, remembering how annoyed I used to get at pals who waxed poetic about their boyfriends' good looks.
But here I was, constantly awed by the gorgeousness of the complicated, frustrating, messed-up, sexy-as-sin man I was falling deeper in love with every day.
As we stared at each other, his scowl didn't lessen, nor did he cease speaking to the poor soul on the receiving end of his call, but his gaze warmed from its chilly irritation to scorching heat.
I should've become used to the change that came over him when he looked at me, but it still hit me with a force strong enough to rock me on my feet.
That look conveyed how hard and deep he wanted to f**k me - which he did every chance he got - and it also afforded me a glimpse of his raw, unrelenting force of will.
A core of strength and command marked everything Gideon did in life.
"See you at eight on Saturday," he finished, before yanking off the earpiece and tossing it on his desk.
"Come here, Eva."
Another shiver slid through me at the way he said my name, with the same authoritative bite he used when he said Come, Eva, while I was beneath him .
filled with him .
desperate to cl**ax for him .
"No time for that, ace."