“This is stupid,” I muttered. “I’m being stupid.”

“No.” He brushed the hair back from my face and bent closer to whisper in my ear. “If you’d taken me to a place you reserved for fucking other men, I would’ve lost it.”

The waiter returned and we pul ed apart. “Should I get you a menu, sir?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Gideon dug his wal et out of his back pocket and handed over his credit card.

“We’re leaving.”

We took a cab to Gideon’s place and he held on to my hand the entire time. I shouldn’t have been so nervous riding a private elevator up to a penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue. The sight of high ceilings and prewar architecture wasn’t new to me, and real y, it was al to be expected when dating a man who seemed to own damn near everything. And the coveted view of Central Park…wel , of course he’d have one.

But Gideon’s tension was palpable, and it made me realize that this was a big deal to him. When the elevator opened directly into his apartment’s marbled entry foyer, his grip on my hand tightened before he released me. He unlocked the double-door entrance to usher me inside, and I could feel his anxiety as he watched for my reaction.

Gideon’s home was as beautiful as the man himself.

It was so very different from his office, which was sleek, modern, and cool. His private space was warm and sumptuous, fil ed with antiques and art anchored by gorgeous Aubusson rugs laid over gleaming hardwood floors.

“It’s…amazing,” I said softly, feeling privileged to see it. It was a glimpse into the private Gideon I was desperate to know and it was stunning.

“Come in.” He tugged me deeper into the apartment. “I want you to sleep here tonight.”

“I don’t have clothes and stuff…”

“Al you need is the toothbrush in your purse. We can run by your place in the morning for the rest. I promise to get you to work on time.” He pul ed me into him and set his chin on the crown of my head. “I’d real y like you to stay, Eva. I don’t blame you for running, but it scared the hel out of me. I need to hang on to you for a while.”

“I need to be held.” I pushed my hands under the back of his T-shirt to caress the silken hardness of his bare back. “I could also use a shower.” With his nose in my hair, he inhaled deeply. “I like you smel ing like me.”

But he led me through the living room and down a hal to his bedroom.

“Wow,” I breathed when he flicked on the light. A massive sleigh bed dominated the space, the wood dark—which he seemed to prefer—and the linens a soft cream. The rest of the furnishings matched the bed and the accents were brushed gold. It was a warm, masculine space with no art on the wal s to detract from the serene night view of Central Park and the magnificent residential buildings on the other side.

My side of Manhattan.

“The bathroom’s in here.”

As I took in the vanity, which appeared to have been made out of an antique claw-footed walnut cabinet, he pul ed towels out of a companion armoire and set them out for me, moving with that confident sensual grace I admired so much. Seeing him in his home, dressed so casual y, touched me. Knowing I was the only woman to have this experience with him affected me even more. I felt like I was seeing him more naked now than I ever had. “Thank you.”

He glanced at me and seemed to understand that I was talking about more than the towels. His stare burned through me. “It feels good to have you here.”

“I have no idea how I ended up like this, with you.” But I real y, real y liked it.

“Does it matter?” Gideon came to me, tilting my chin up to press a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I’l lay out a Tshirt for you on the bed. Caviar and vodka sound good to you?”

“Wel …that’s quite a step up from pizza.” He smiled. “Petrossian’s Ossetra.”

“I stand corrected.” I smiled back. “Several hundred steps up.”

I showered and dressed in the oversized Cross Industries shirt he laid out for me; then I cal ed Cary to tel him I’d be out al night and give him a brief rundown about the hotel incident.

He whistled. “I’m not even sure what to say about that.”

A speechless Cary Taylor spoke volumes.

I joined Gideon in the living room, and we sat on the floor at the coffee table to eat the prized caviar with mini toast and crème fraiche. We watched a rerun of a New York-set police procedural that just happened to include a scene filmed on the street in front of the Crossfire.

“I think it’d be cool to see a building I owned on TV

like that,” I said.

“It’s not bad, if they don’t close off the street for hours to film.”

I bumped shoulders with him. “Pessimist.” We crawled into Gideon’s bed at ten thirty and watched the last half of a show while curled up together. Sexual tension crackled in the air between us, but he didn’t make any overtures so I didn’t either. I suspected he was stil trying to make amends for the hotel, trying to prove that he wanted to spend time with me not “actively fucking.”

It worked. As much as I desired his outrageously sexy body, it felt good just hanging out together.

He slept in the nude, which was fabulous for me to cuddle up against. I tossed one leg over his, wrapped an arm around his waist, and rested my cheek over his heart. I don’t remember the ending of the show, so I suppose I fel asleep before it was over.

When I woke it was stil dark in the room and I’d rol ed to the far side of my half of the bed. I sat up to see the digital clock face on Gideon’s nightstand and found it was barely three in the morning. I usual y slept straight through the night and thought maybe the strange surroundings were keeping me from sleeping deeply; then Gideon moaned and shifted restlessly and I realized what had disturbed me. The sound he made was pained, his subsequent hiss of breath tormented.

“Don’t touch me,” he whispered harshly. “Get your fucking hands off of me!”

I froze, my heart racing. His words sliced through the dark, fil ed with fury.

“You sick bastard.” He writhed, his legs kicking at the covers. His back arched on a groan that sounded perversely erotic. “Don’t. Ah, Christ…It hurts.” He strained, his body twisting. I couldn’t bear it.

“Gideon.”

Because

Cary

had

nightmares

sometimes, I knew better than to touch a man in the throes of one. Instead, I knelt on my side of the bed and cal ed his name. “Gideon, wake up.” Stil ing abruptly, he fel to his back, tense and expectant. His chest heaved with panting breaths. His cock was hard and lay heavily along his bel y.

I spoke firmly, although my heart was breaking.

“Gideon. You’re dreaming. Come back to me.” He deflated into the mattress. “Eva…?”

“I’m here.” Shifting, I moved out of the way of the moonlight, but saw no luminous glitter that would tel me his eyes were open. “Are you awake?” His breathing began to slow, but he didn’t speak.

His hands were fisted in the bottom sheet. I pul ed the shirt I was wearing over my head and dropped it on the bed. I sidled closer, reaching out with a tentative hand to touch his arm. When he didn’t move, I caressed him, my fingertips sliding gently over the hard muscle of his biceps.

“Gideon?”

He jerked awake. “What? What is it?”

I sat back on my heels with my hands on my thighs. I saw him blink at me, and then shove both hands through his hair. I could feel the nightmare clinging to him, could sense it in the rigidness of his body.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gruffly, pushing up onto one elbow. “You okay?”

“I want you.” I stretched out against him, aligning my bare body to his. Pressing my face into his damp throat, I sucked gently on his salty skin. I knew from my own nightmares that being held and loved could push the specters back into the closet for a little while.

His arms came around me, his hands running up and down the curve of my spine. I felt him let go of the dream with a long, deep sigh.

Pushing him to his back, I climbed over him and sealed my mouth over his. His erection was notched between the lips of my sex and I rocked against him.

The feel of his hands in my hair, holding me to take control of the kiss, quickly made me wet and ready.

Fire licked just beneath my skin. I stroked my clit up and down his thick length, using him to masturbate until he made a rough sound of desire and rol ed to put me beneath him.

“I don’t have any condoms in the house,” he murmured before wrapping his lips around my nipple and sucking gently.

I loved that he wasn’t prepared. This wasn’t his fuck pad; this was his home and I was the only lover he’d brought into it. “I know you mentioned swapping bil s of health when we talked about birth control and that’s the responsible way to go, but—”

“I trust you.” He lifted his head, looking at me in the faint light of the moon. Kneeing my legs open, he pushed the first bare inch inside me. He was scorching hot and silky soft.

“Eva,” he breathed, clutching me tightly to him. “I’ve never…Christ, you feel so good. I’m so glad you’re here.”

I tugged his lips down to mine and kissed him. “Me, too.”