Bared to You
Page 41
"We'll ride home together after work." He backed away, holding my hand until distance pulled our fingers apart.
When I turned toward the ivy-draped restaurant, I saw Mark and Steven waiting for me by the entrance. They made such a pair with Mark in his suit and tie, and Steven in his worn jeans and boots.
Steven stood with his hands in his pockets and big grin on his attractive face. "I feel like I should applaud. That was better than watching a chick flick."
My face heated and I shifted on my feet.
Mark opened the door and waved me inside. "I think you can ignore my previous words of wisdom about Cross's womanizing."
"Thanks for not firing me," I replied wryly as we waited for the hostess to check our reservation and table. "Or at least feeding me first."
Steven patted my shoulder. "Mark can't afford to lose you."
Pulling out a chair for me, Mark smiled. "How else will I give Steven regular updates on your love life? He's a soap opera addict, you know. He loves romantic dramas."
I snorted. "You're kidding."
Steven ran a hand over his chin and smiled. "I'll never admit it one way or the other. A man's got to have his secrets."
My mouth curved, but I was painfully aware of my own hidden truths. And how quickly time was passing before I'd have to reveal them.
Five o'clock found me steeling myself to divulge my secrets. I was tense and somber when Gideon and I slid into the Bentley, and my disquiet only worsened when I felt him studying the side of my averted face. When he took my hand and lifted it to his lips, I felt like crying. I was still trying to adjust after our argument in the park, and that was the least of what we had to deal with.
We didn't speak until we arrived at his apartment.
When we entered his home, he led me straight through his beautiful, expansive living room and down the hall to his bedroom. There, laid out on the bed, was a fabulous cocktail dress the color of Gideon's eyes and a floor-length black silk robe.
"I had a little time to shop before dinner yesterday," he explained.
My apprehension lifted slightly, softened by pleasure at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you."
He set my bag on a chair by the dresser. "I'd like you to get comfortable. You can wear the robe or something of mine. I'll open a bottle of wine and we'll just settle in. When you're ready, we'll talk."
"I'd like to take a quick shower." I wished we could separate what happened in the park from what I had to tell him so that each issue was dealt with on its own merits, but I didn't have a choice. Every day was another opportunity for someone else to tell Gideon what he needed to hear from me.
"Whatever you want, angel. Make yourself at home."
As I kicked off my heels and moved into the bathroom, I felt the weight of his concern, but my revelations would have to hold until I could compose myself better. In an effort to gain that control, I took my time in the shower. Unfortunately, it made me remember the one we'd taken together just that morning. Had that been both our first and last as a couple?
When I was ready, I found Gideon standing by the couch in the living room. He'd changed into black silk pajama bottoms that hung low around his hips. Nothing else. A small blaze flickered in the fireplace and a bottle of wine sat in an ice-filled bucket on the coffee table. A grouping of ivory candles had been clustered as a centerpiece, their golden glow the only illumination besides the fire.
"Excuse me," I said from the threshold of the room. "I'm looking for Gideon Cross, the man who doesn't have romance in his repertoire."
He grinned sheepishly, a boyish smile so at odds with the mature sexuality of his bared body. "I don't think about it that way. I just try to guess what might please you, and then I give it a shot and hope for the best."
"You please me." I crossed to him, the black robe swaying around my legs. I loved that he'd put on something that matched what he had given me.
"I want to," he said soberly. "I'm working on it."
Stopping in front of him, I drank in the beauty of his face and the sexy way the ends of his hair caressed the top of his shoulders. I ran my palms down his biceps, squeezing the hard muscle gently before stepping into him and pressing my face into his chest.
"Hey," he murmured, wrapping his arms around me. "Is this about me being an ass at lunch? Or whatever it is you need to say to me? Talk to me, Eva, so I can tell you it'll be okay."
I nuzzled my nose between his pecs, feeling the tickle of crisp chest hair against my cheek and breathing in the reassuring, familiar scent of his skin. "You should sit down. I have to tell you things about me. Ugly things."
Gideon reluctantly let me go when I pulled away from him. I curled up on his couch with my legs tucked underneath me and he poured us both glasses of golden wine before taking a seat. Leaning toward me, he draped one arm over the back of the sofa and held his glass with the other hand, giving me every bit of his attention.
"Okay. Here goes." I took a deep breath before starting, feeling dizzy from the elevated rate of my pulse. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so nervous or sick to my stomach.
"My mother and father never married. I really don't know too much about how they met, because neither of them talks about it. I know my mom came from money. Not as much as she married into, but more than most people have. She was a debutante. Had the whole white dress and presentation thing. Getting pregnant with me was a mistake that got her disowned, but she kept me."
I looked down into my glass. "I really admire her for that. There was a lot of pressure for her to make the baby - make me - go away, but she went through with the pregnancy anyway. Obviously."
His fingers sifted through my shower-damp hair. "Lucky me."
I caught his fingers and kissed his knuckles, then held his hand in my lap. "Even with a kid in tow, she was able to land herself a millionaire. He was a widower with a son just two years older than me, so I think they both thought they'd found the perfect arrangement. He traveled a lot and was rarely home, and my mom spent his money and took over raising his son."
"I understand the need for money, Eva," he murmured. "I have to have it, too. I need the power of it. The security."
Our eyes met. Something passed between us with that small admission. It made it easier for me to say what came next.
"I was ten the first time my stepbrother raped me - "
The stem of his glass snapped in his hand. He moved so swiftly he was a blur, catching the bowl of his goblet against his thigh before it spilled its contents.
I scrambled to my feet when he rose to his. "Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he bit out. He went into the kitchen and threw the broken glass away, shattering it further. I set my own glass down carefully, my hands shaking. I heard cupboards opening and closing. A few minutes later Gideon returned with a tumbler of something darker in his hand.
"Sit down, Eva."
I stared at him. His frame was rigid, his eyes icy cold. He scrubbed a hand over his face and said more gently, "Sit down...please."
My weakened knees gave out and I sat on the edge of the sofa, pulling the robe tighter around me.
Gideon remained standing, taking a large swallow of whatever was in his hand. "You said the first time. How many times were there?"
When I turned toward the ivy-draped restaurant, I saw Mark and Steven waiting for me by the entrance. They made such a pair with Mark in his suit and tie, and Steven in his worn jeans and boots.
Steven stood with his hands in his pockets and big grin on his attractive face. "I feel like I should applaud. That was better than watching a chick flick."
My face heated and I shifted on my feet.
Mark opened the door and waved me inside. "I think you can ignore my previous words of wisdom about Cross's womanizing."
"Thanks for not firing me," I replied wryly as we waited for the hostess to check our reservation and table. "Or at least feeding me first."
Steven patted my shoulder. "Mark can't afford to lose you."
Pulling out a chair for me, Mark smiled. "How else will I give Steven regular updates on your love life? He's a soap opera addict, you know. He loves romantic dramas."
I snorted. "You're kidding."
Steven ran a hand over his chin and smiled. "I'll never admit it one way or the other. A man's got to have his secrets."
My mouth curved, but I was painfully aware of my own hidden truths. And how quickly time was passing before I'd have to reveal them.
Five o'clock found me steeling myself to divulge my secrets. I was tense and somber when Gideon and I slid into the Bentley, and my disquiet only worsened when I felt him studying the side of my averted face. When he took my hand and lifted it to his lips, I felt like crying. I was still trying to adjust after our argument in the park, and that was the least of what we had to deal with.
We didn't speak until we arrived at his apartment.
When we entered his home, he led me straight through his beautiful, expansive living room and down the hall to his bedroom. There, laid out on the bed, was a fabulous cocktail dress the color of Gideon's eyes and a floor-length black silk robe.
"I had a little time to shop before dinner yesterday," he explained.
My apprehension lifted slightly, softened by pleasure at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you."
He set my bag on a chair by the dresser. "I'd like you to get comfortable. You can wear the robe or something of mine. I'll open a bottle of wine and we'll just settle in. When you're ready, we'll talk."
"I'd like to take a quick shower." I wished we could separate what happened in the park from what I had to tell him so that each issue was dealt with on its own merits, but I didn't have a choice. Every day was another opportunity for someone else to tell Gideon what he needed to hear from me.
"Whatever you want, angel. Make yourself at home."
As I kicked off my heels and moved into the bathroom, I felt the weight of his concern, but my revelations would have to hold until I could compose myself better. In an effort to gain that control, I took my time in the shower. Unfortunately, it made me remember the one we'd taken together just that morning. Had that been both our first and last as a couple?
When I was ready, I found Gideon standing by the couch in the living room. He'd changed into black silk pajama bottoms that hung low around his hips. Nothing else. A small blaze flickered in the fireplace and a bottle of wine sat in an ice-filled bucket on the coffee table. A grouping of ivory candles had been clustered as a centerpiece, their golden glow the only illumination besides the fire.
"Excuse me," I said from the threshold of the room. "I'm looking for Gideon Cross, the man who doesn't have romance in his repertoire."
He grinned sheepishly, a boyish smile so at odds with the mature sexuality of his bared body. "I don't think about it that way. I just try to guess what might please you, and then I give it a shot and hope for the best."
"You please me." I crossed to him, the black robe swaying around my legs. I loved that he'd put on something that matched what he had given me.
"I want to," he said soberly. "I'm working on it."
Stopping in front of him, I drank in the beauty of his face and the sexy way the ends of his hair caressed the top of his shoulders. I ran my palms down his biceps, squeezing the hard muscle gently before stepping into him and pressing my face into his chest.
"Hey," he murmured, wrapping his arms around me. "Is this about me being an ass at lunch? Or whatever it is you need to say to me? Talk to me, Eva, so I can tell you it'll be okay."
I nuzzled my nose between his pecs, feeling the tickle of crisp chest hair against my cheek and breathing in the reassuring, familiar scent of his skin. "You should sit down. I have to tell you things about me. Ugly things."
Gideon reluctantly let me go when I pulled away from him. I curled up on his couch with my legs tucked underneath me and he poured us both glasses of golden wine before taking a seat. Leaning toward me, he draped one arm over the back of the sofa and held his glass with the other hand, giving me every bit of his attention.
"Okay. Here goes." I took a deep breath before starting, feeling dizzy from the elevated rate of my pulse. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so nervous or sick to my stomach.
"My mother and father never married. I really don't know too much about how they met, because neither of them talks about it. I know my mom came from money. Not as much as she married into, but more than most people have. She was a debutante. Had the whole white dress and presentation thing. Getting pregnant with me was a mistake that got her disowned, but she kept me."
I looked down into my glass. "I really admire her for that. There was a lot of pressure for her to make the baby - make me - go away, but she went through with the pregnancy anyway. Obviously."
His fingers sifted through my shower-damp hair. "Lucky me."
I caught his fingers and kissed his knuckles, then held his hand in my lap. "Even with a kid in tow, she was able to land herself a millionaire. He was a widower with a son just two years older than me, so I think they both thought they'd found the perfect arrangement. He traveled a lot and was rarely home, and my mom spent his money and took over raising his son."
"I understand the need for money, Eva," he murmured. "I have to have it, too. I need the power of it. The security."
Our eyes met. Something passed between us with that small admission. It made it easier for me to say what came next.
"I was ten the first time my stepbrother raped me - "
The stem of his glass snapped in his hand. He moved so swiftly he was a blur, catching the bowl of his goblet against his thigh before it spilled its contents.
I scrambled to my feet when he rose to his. "Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he bit out. He went into the kitchen and threw the broken glass away, shattering it further. I set my own glass down carefully, my hands shaking. I heard cupboards opening and closing. A few minutes later Gideon returned with a tumbler of something darker in his hand.
"Sit down, Eva."
I stared at him. His frame was rigid, his eyes icy cold. He scrubbed a hand over his face and said more gently, "Sit down...please."
My weakened knees gave out and I sat on the edge of the sofa, pulling the robe tighter around me.
Gideon remained standing, taking a large swallow of whatever was in his hand. "You said the first time. How many times were there?"
