Page 58 of Ireland

Gideon clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair.

Not that Eva would ever leave him by choice. But reviewing the ominous notes had reminded him that there were those who would take Eva from him, given the chance. His wife was his only vulnerability, and he couldn’t hide that when he looked at her or spoke about her.

How could he have grown complacent about the risks? He, of all people, knew how dangerous their enemies were. Once it had been made irrefutably clear that Eva’s safety could only be assured if her stalker and rapist were dead, Gideon had planned and carried out Nathan Barker’s execution himself.

Watching her now, he accepted that easing back on their security wasn’t an option, especially when the men he entrusted with their lives didn't recommend it. He and Eva would just have to talk it out. His wife was a reasonable woman; she would see the necessity of it and understand that while danger was ever present, it was being managed, and her safety was assured.

Gideon heard her breathing change and watched her twitch as consciousness returned to her.

A moment later, she blinked rapidly, then smiled sleepily at him. “Hey, baby. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Lucky knew you were sleeping and stayed quiet, didn’t you, boy?” He rewarded him with a quick rubdown.

Eva yawned, her back arching as she stretched. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight.”

“You got home late. Did taking over my meetings bog you down?”

He shook his head. “I met with Ireland after hours.”

“Did you?” Her smile was like the sun.

He was so relieved to see her genuinely happy that he decided to delay the discussions about their security and Ireland’s power move. Eva’s voice had been in the forefront of his mind while he smiled through Ireland’s excitement, knowing his wife would caution him against being heavy-handed. But he didn’t see the harm in digging a little deeper into the fiscal fitness of Vidal Records, and so he would.

Eva sat up, her blond hair a sexy tousled mess. She took him in, noting he wore only black silk pajama pants. His hair was still damp from the brief shower he’d taken before seeing to dinner. “I was going to cook that steak for you.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” He stood to go into the kitchen. “Want anything?”

“I’m good. God, I’m tired. As soon as I suck you off, I’m passing out.”

Gideon paused midstep, his pulse accelerating. “Come again?”

Her slumberous eyes held wicked amusement. “Okay, okay. I’ll suck you off twice if you insist. I’ve been thinking about it since we took that moment for a hug. I wanted to drop to my knees, unzip you, and make you come in my mouth. You know I love it when I open your fly to get to your delicious cock, but you’re otherwise dressed from head to toe. The idea that ifsomeone saw you from behind, they’d never know what I was doing to you.”

Giving up any idea of cleaning up after himself, Gideon set his plate on the kitchen island and pivoted back to the living room. They’d discovered a new kink together early in their relationship: the fantasy of exhibitionism drove them both wild. Their reasons were primitive. He wanted to mark her, own her, possess her, while she loved being claimed by him, dominated by his desires, used for his pleasure—and they wanted everyone to know. That his wife often visualized sex with an audience was even more exciting than anything he could dream up.

He’d found ways to indulge their shared hunger without risk of exposure: two-way mirrors, smoked glass, behind closed doors in crowded spaces. As much as the fantasy excited them, the reality was that he treasured his wife too much to ever expose her vulnerability and passion to anyone.

He scooped Eva up from the couch, and she shrieked with laughter as he carried her down the hallway to their bedroom.

“Keep laughing, and you might find yourself missing work tomorrow, too,” he warned because his wife’s period never stopped them from exploring inventive ways to pleasure each other.

“I’m already missing work tomorrow.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “It’s Aunt Katherine’s birthday.”

There was no hitch in his stride, but her words exploded like a bomb in his mind. Katherine was her mother’s twin, so it was Lauren’s birthday, too. Lauren, the woman he’d known by the alias “Monica,” whose face was so like Eva’s he could envision how his wife would look at the same age. Lauren, who’d been murdered on the red carpet in front of her daughter and husband, with her security detail and Gideon’s nearby.

Maybe Eva’s recent moodiness was tied to the date. Had he missed signs in previous years? How was that possible when every nuance of her emotions resonated so empathically inside him?

Entering the bedroom, he planted a knee on the bed, then the other, setting Eva down gently. Her arms stayed linked around his neck, keeping him with her. She took his mouth, her tongue stroking along his. Her soft moan of enjoyment hardened his dick, and he sank into her embrace.

Everything he needed was in his arms. Tomorrow, they’d work on making her feel safe there.

“Can I just say how terribly disappointed I am that Mr. Smooth & Sexy turned out to be an epic jerk?”

Alina panted as she helped Ireland move the heavy wood desk into its new location. Paint fumes made labored breathing even more difficult despite the open windows but Metallica promising vengeance through the room’s built-in speakers kept them motivated.

Setting the desk down with a thud, Ireland blew a sharp breath to get a rogue piece of hair unstuck from her eyelashes. “You can, but it won’t change anything. You’ll still be disappointed, and he’ll still be an epic jerk.”

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