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I found myself pinned to the hallway wall by six feet, two inches of hard, hot male.
“You know what happens when you run, angel.” Gideon nipped my lower lip with his teeth and then soothed the sting with the caress of his tongue. “I catch you.”
His mouth curved, but his gaze had a sharpness that quickened my breath. The dark look he gave me reminded me—as if I could forget—that Gideon wasn’t a man who could be managed or tamed. “Ah, Eva,” he purred, sprawled against the seat with the predatory insouciance of a sleek panther who’d neatly trapped a mouse in his den.
“I go out of my way to make sure you don’t have any reason to feel jealous, but when you do get possessive, I like it. I want you to fight for me. I want you to care that much. I want you crazy about me. But possessiveness without trust is hell. If you don’t trust me, we’ve got nothing.”
“Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re keeping secrets.” “Secrets are something we can work through; cheating isn’t.”
Most suits made the man. Gideon did things to a three-piece suit that should’ve been illegal.
“How did Gideon look?” “He looked the same—tight-assed and hot as hell.”
I knew from my mom’s many marriages to powerful men that getting their time was the most important thing of all, because for them, it was truly the most valuable thing in their lives.
He wasn’t traditionally good-looking, but he had confidence and poise, two things I found more attractive in a man than just his physical features.
“You’re the greatest risk I’ve ever taken.” His pressed his lips gently to mine. “And the greatest reward.”
His mouth sealed over mine. He nipped my lower lip, then thrust his tongue into my mouth, holding me where he wanted me with his fist in my hair. The dominance of the act was undeniable.
“Bellissima,” he praised. “Always a joy to see a woman with a healthy appetite.”
Because I loved this side of the man as much as I loved the powerful businessman in the suit and the dominant lover in my bed and the broken child who couldn’t hide his tears and the tender partner who held me when I cried.
“I’d rather argue with you, angel, than laugh with anyone else.”
“Baby girl,” he drawled. “I want to sympathize, I do, but the love triangle thing is just too delicious. The determined rock star and the possessive billionaire. Rawr.”
It was impossible to hide what he was—a dominant male, a captain of industry, a man of privilege.
“Sometimes love isn’t enough. And if it’s not enough, what good is it?”
I was pinned by six feet, two inches of violently aroused male.
“I’m obsessed with you, angel. Addicted to you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted or needed, everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You’re everything. I live and breathe you. For you.”