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that
ring,” he murmured gently. “Not yet.
You’re not ready.”
Something inside me wilted. Then relief flooded
me. It
was
too soon. Neither of us was ready. But if
I’d ever wondered how deeply I had fallen in love
with Gideon, now I knew.
I nodded.
“Open it,” he said.
With cautious fingers, I pulled the box closer
and thumbed open the lid. “Oh.”
Nestled inside the black leather and velvet was
a ring like no other. Gold rope-like bands were
intertwined and decorated with Xs covered in
diamonds.
“Bonds,” I murmured, “secured by crosses.”
Gideon
Cross
.
“Not quite. I see the ropes as representative of
the many threads of you, not bondage. But yes,
the Xs are me holding on to you. By my
fingernails, it feels like.” He finished his glass of
wine and refilled both our glasses.
I sat unmoving, stunned, trying to take it all in.
Everything he’d done in the time we’d been apart
—the photos, the ring, Dr. Petersen, the
replicated bedroom, and whoever had been
following me around—told me I’d never been far
from his mind, if I’d even left it at all.
“You gave me my keys back,” I whispered, still
remembering the pain.
His hand reached out and covered mine. “There
are a lot of reasons why I did that. You left me
wearing nothing but a robe, Eva, and without your
keys. I can’t stand thinking about what could’ve
happened if Cary hadn’t been home to let you in
right away.”
Lifting his hand to my mouth, I kissed the back;
then released him and closed the lid of the ring
box. “It’s beautiful, Gideon. Thank you. It means a
lot to me.”
“But you won’t wear it.” It wasn’t a question.
“After the conversation we’ve had tonight, it
feels like a collar.”
After a moment, he nodded. “You’re not
altogether wrong.”
My brain hurt and my heart ached. Four nights
of restless sleeping didn’t help. I couldn’t
understand why he felt I was so necessary, even
though I felt that way about him. There were
thousands of women in New York alone who could
replace me in his life, but there was only one
Gideon Cross.
“I feel like I’m disappointing you, Gideon. After
everything we’ve talked about tonight…I feel like
this is the beginning of the end.”
Pushing his chair back, he angled toward me
and touched my cheek. “It’s not.”
“When do we see Dr. Petersen?”
“I’ll go alone on Tuesdays. After you talk to him
and agree to couples counseling, we can go
together on Thursdays.”
“Two hours of your week, every week. Not
including the travel back and forth. That’s a big
commitment.” I reached up and brushed the hair
back from his cheek. “Thank you.”
Gideon caught my hand and kissed the palm.
“It’s no sacrifice, Eva.”
He went into his office to work a bit before bed
and I carried the ring box into the master
bathroom with me. I studied it further while I
brushed my teeth and hair.
There was a soft hum of need beneath my skin,
a persistent level of arousal that shouldn’t have
been possible considering the number of
orgasms I’d already had over the course of the
day. It was an emotionally driven need to connect
to Gideon, to reassure myself that we were okay.
Clutching the ring box in my hand, I went to my
side of Gideon’s bed and set it on the nightstand. I
wanted it where I’d see it first thing in the morning,
after a good night’s sleep.
With a sigh, I draped my beautiful new robe
over the footboard and crawled into bed. After
tossing and turning for a long while, I finally
crashed.
I woke sometime in the middle of the night to a
racing pulse and quick, shallow breathing.
Disoriented, I lay still for a moment, gathering my
bearings and remembering where I was. I tensed
when it sank in, my ears straining to hear if
Gideon was having another nightmare. When I
discovered him lying quietly beside me, his
breathing deep and even, I relaxed with a sigh.
What time had he finally come to bed? After the
days we’d spent apart, it worried me that he might
have felt a need to be alone.
Then it hit me. I was
aroused
. Painfully so.
My breasts were full and heavy, my nipples
furled and tight. My core was aching and my cleft
wet. As I lay there in the moonlit darkness, I
realized that my own body had woken me with its
demands. Had I dreamed something erotic? Or
was it enough that Gideon was lying beside me?
Pushing up onto my elbows, I looked at him.
The sheet and comforter clung to his waist,
leaving his sculpted chest and biceps bared. His
right arm was tossed over his head, framing the
fall of dark hair around his lavishly handsome
face. His left arm lay between us on the blankets,
the hand fisted and bringing to relief the network
of thick veins that coursed up his forearms. Even
in repose he looked fierce and powerful.
I became more aware of the tension inside me,
the sense that I was drawn to him by the silent
exertion of his formidable will. It wasn’t possible
that he could demand my surrender while he was
sleeping, yet it felt that way, felt like that invisible
rope between us was pulling me to him.
The throbbing between my legs grew
unbearable and I pressed one hand against the
violent pulsing, hoping to dull the ache. The
pressure worsened it instead.
I couldn’t stay still. Throwing the covers off, I slid
my legs off the side of the mattress and thought
about trying a glass of warm milk with the brandy
Gideon had given me earlier. Abruptly, I paused,
riveted by the moonlight gleaming off the leather
of the ring box on the nightstand. I thought of the
jewelry inside it and my desire surged. At that
moment, the thought of being collared by Gideon
filled me with heated yearning.
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