One with You (Crossfire, #5)

by Sylvia Day

If Angus was right, Eva’s mother had lived more of her life as another woman than she had as herself.

“What about the real Monica Tramell?” “Her husband manages everything. In that sense, she hardly exists.”

As sleek, wild, and dangerous as a wolf. Eating out of my hand one minute and snapping at it the next. Which was usually followed by fucking me like a beast, so … it worked for me.

“I’m jealous. I’m not getting any. Zip. Zero. Zilch. My palm’s going to have a permanent indentation from my lonely dick.”

“It’s always going to be that way for me, Eva. Just you. Always.”

“My only,” he agreed. “Hot-tempered. Hot-blooded. My one and only permanent one-night stand. I know exactly how it will be between us, and then you go and take me by surprise. You eat me alive, every time, and want more.”

I heard Cary say something I couldn’t quite make out. “Soon, angel. I’ll let you go.” “Don’t ever let me go, Gideon.”

She was my joy, the light in my world. I would do anything to keep her carefree and content for the rest of her life.

A slender brunette reclined on a mound of throw pillows. The low V of her sequined top shoved aside. Gideon’s body was partly over hers. His mouth sucked her nipple. A second leggy brunette. Draped over his back. One thigh hooked over his. Her legs spread. Her mouth a wide O of pleasure. Gideon’s arm reached behind him. His hand beneath her short skirt.

WTF!!!

It wasn’t visible, but his fingers were inside her. I knew it. It was a sharp, jagged knife in my heart.

Dude…

“It happened before I met you.” He spoke too fast, was breathing too fast. “I don’t know when or—What?” Someone spoke in the background. “Cinco de Mayo? For fuck’s sake. Why is this coming out now?”

“Eva, I swear to you that fucking picture wasn’t taken this weekend. I would never do that to you. You know that. You know what you mean to me—”

Thank god.

To him, my belief in him was my love.

“There used to be this … emptiness. Inside me,” he said quietly. “You called it a void. Said you filled it. You did.”

“That emptiness is gone. You’re there.”

“It’s said that actions speak louder than words,” he went on, “but we still need words. We need to speak and we need to be heard.”

“I’m aware. You’re certainly free to do so, but I suggest you think twice before pursuing a vendetta against me or my wife.” I stood. “You’re going to walk out the door and I’ll forget you exist—again. You don’t want me thinking about you, Deanna. You won’t like the direction my thoughts would take.”

Never again would the scent of sex turn my stomach and make me scrub my skin nearly raw in the shower.

As if she felt the heat of that silent demand, her head turned sharply, catching me coming toward her. Her lips parted. I watched her chest lift and fall with a quick intake of breath. Same here, angel. Like a punch in the gut every time.

Marriage suddenly didn’t seem like enough to safeguard what she meant to me. Why wasn’t there something more binding than a mere piece of paper that gave me the right to call her my wife? Vows were a promise, but what I needed was a guarantee that every day of my life would have her in it. I wanted my heart to beat in rhythm with hers and stop when hers did. Inextricably entwined, so I would never live even a moment without her.

“I just left Corinne.” She marched right up to my desk and remained standing, much as Deanna had only hours before her. “She’s in pieces over that interview you gave yesterday. Completely destroyed. You have to go see her. Talk to her.”

This bitch… lol.

“I was raped,” I said again, my voice calmer. Steadier. “For close to a year, every week. A man you invited into your home fondled me. Sodomized me. Over and over again.” “Don’t.” She breathed harshly, her chest heaving. “Don’t say those ugly, awful things.”

I hate this woman.

There was grief, a profound anguish that burned in my chest. And resignation. A clarifying, terrible acceptance. But it weighed on me so much less than the desperate hope I’d harbored: that one day my mother would love me enough to accept the truth. That hope was dead.

“You’ve got a right to be hurt and pissed, Gideon. I’m pissed, too. They’re not worthy of you. That doesn’t make you less, it makes you more. I wouldn’t have married you if you weren’t a good man, someone I respect and admire. You inspire me, don’t you know that?”

“Angel, I take your tits very seriously. So tonight, when someone ogles them, they’ll realize you’re much too expensive and they couldn’t possibly afford you.”

Get down! The shout barely registered before Gideon tackled me. A loud crack of sound jolted through me, reverberating off the brick and ringing in my ears. Deafeningly close … Jesus. Right beside us. We hit the carpeted pavement hard. Gideon rolled, covering me with his body. More weight as someone threw themselves over Gideon. Another bark of noise. Then another. Another …

“One of the photographers had a gun and opened fire. Clancy got him.”

“Monica Stanton went down.”

“I’m sorry. Monica was killed tonight.”

She was going to sleep believing her world still had her mother in it and that her husband would never lie to her. “I love you.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead, wanting those words to echo in her dreams. It was all too possible that she wouldn’t believe them once she was awake.

“He was a sick piece of shit, but—listen, there’s no tidy way to say this. He never had anything left after he was done with me.” “My God … Gideon.”

“Hall is obsessed with you.” Which meant I hadn’t just hidden what I knew of Monica’s life, I was also indirectly responsible for her death.

“I don’t think Hall was ever playing with a full deck,” Michna said, “but he used to have a job, a place to live, and no particular interest in Cross. Anne Lucas did a number on him.”

“How do you want it?” he asked darkly. “Slow and sweet? Fast and rough?”

I came so hard my vision went black, my body seized with pleasure so intense I was locked in it, suspended in the powerful waves of erotic sensation.

And I let go of my grief in the shelter of his arms, knowing that whether in joy or pain, Gideon was one with me.

When Gideon closed the door without his mother making an appearance, I realized Elizabeth was a no-show on her firstborn’s birthday. A potent mix of sympathy and pain swamped me and caused my fists to clench. What the fuck was wrong with that woman?

“I’m so proud to be your husband,” he said solemnly. “It’s my greatest accomplishment to have been found worthy of that honor in your eyes.”

“There aren’t words to tell you what you mean to me.” He opened his hand again. “But I hope that when you see this ring on your hand, you’ll remember that you shine as brightly as diamonds in my life and you’re infinitely more precious.”