Bared to You

you
using 
me
for sex?”
“Not with you.” He was too forceful, too
demanding.
A sizzling, predatory glimmer sparked in his
eyes as I bared my weakness for him.
“Besides,” I went on quickly, “that’s semantics. I
need an equal exchange in my sexual
relationships. Or to have the upper hand.”

---

“Okay.”
“Okay? You said that really quickly considering
I’m telling you I need to combine two things you
work so hard to avoid putting together.”
“I’m not comfortable with it and I don’t claim to
understand, but I’m hearing you—it’s an issue. Tell
me how to get around it.”
My breath left me in a rush. I hadn’t expected
that. He was a man who wanted no complications
with his sex and I was a woman who found sex
complicated, but he wasn’t giving up. Yet.
“We need to be friendly, Gideon. Not best buds
or confidants, but two people who know more
about each other than their anatomy. To me, that
means we have to spend time together when
we’re not actively fucking. And I’m afraid we’ll
have to spend time not actively fucking in places
where we’re forced to restrain ourselves.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
“Yes. And see, that’s what I mean. I wasn’t
giving you credit for that. You should’ve done it in
a less creepy manner”—I covered his lips with my
fingers when he tried to cut me off—“but I admit
you did try to set up a time to talk and I wasn’t
helpful.”
He nipped my fingers with his teeth, making me
yelp and yank my hand away.
“Hey. What was that for?”
He lifted my abused hand to his mouth and
kissed the hurt, his tongue darting out to soothe.
And incite.
In self-defense, I tugged my hand back to my
lap. I still wasn’t completely confident that we’d
worked things out. “Just so you know there are no
exaggerated expectations—when you and I spend
time together not actively fucking, I won’t think it’s
a date. All right?”
“That covers it.” Gideon smiled and my decision

---

to be with him solidified for me. His smile was like
lightning in the darkness, blinding and beautiful
and mysterious, and I wanted him so badly it was
physically painful.
His hands slid down to cup the backs of my
thighs. Squeezing gently, he tugged me just a little
bit closer. The hem of my short black halter dress
slipped almost indecently high and his gaze was
riveted to the flesh he’d exposed. His tongue wet
his lips in an action so carnal and suggestive I
could almost feel the caress on my skin.
Duffy began begging for mercy, her voice
drifting up from the dance floor below. An
unwelcome ache developed in my chest and I
rubbed at it.
I’d already had enough, but I heard myself
saying, “I need another drink.”

---

I
had a vicious hangover on Saturday morning
and figured it was no less than I deserved. As
much as I’d resented Gideon’s insistence on
negotiating sex with as much passion as he would
a merger, in the end I’d negotiated in kind.
Because I wanted him enough to take a
calculated risk and break my own rules.
I took comfort in knowing he was breaking
some of his own, too.
After a long, hot shower, I made my way into the
living room and found Cary on the couch with his
netbook, looking fresh and alert. Smelling coffee
in the kitchen, I headed there and filled the biggest
mug I could find.
“Morning, sunshine,” Cary called out.
With my much-needed dose of caffeine
wrapped between both palms, I joined him on the
couch.
He pointed at a box on the end table. “That
came for you while you were in the shower.”

---

I set my mug on the coffee table and picked up
the box. It was wrapped with brown paper and
twine, and had my name handwritten diagonally
across the top with a decorative calligraphic
flourish. Inside was an amber glass bottle with
Hangover Cure painted on it in a white old-
fashioned font and a note tied with raffia to the
bottle’s neck that said,