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"And you never told your dad about what happened to you?"
"No." I rolled the stem of my wineglass between my fingers. "He knows I was an angry troublemaker with self-esteem issues, but he doesn't know about Nathan."
"Why not?"
"Because he can't change what happened. Nathan was lawfully punished. His father paid a large sum for damages. Justice was served."
Gideon spoke coolly. "I disagree."
"What more can you expect?"
He drank deeply before replying. "It's not fit to describe over dinner."
"Oh." Because that sounded ominous, especially when paired with the ice of his gaze, I returned my attention to the food in front of me. There was no menu at Masa, only omakase, so every bite was a surprise delight, and the dearth of patrons made it seem almost as if we had the whole place to ourselves.
After a moment, he said, "I love watching you eat."
I shot him a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You eat with gusto. And your little moans of pleasure make me hard."
I bumped my shoulder into his. "By your own admission, you're always hard."
"Your fault," he said, grinning, which made me grin, too.
Gideon ate with more deliberation than I did and didn't bat an eye at the astronomical check.
Before we stepped outside, he slid his jacket over my shoulders and said, "Let's go to your gym tomorrow."
I glanced at him. "Yours is nicer."
"Of course it is. But I'll go wherever you like."
"Someplace without helpful trainers named Daniel?" I asked sweetly.
He looked at me with an arched brow and a wry curving of his lips. "Watch yourself, angel. Before I think of a suitable consequence for mocking my possessiveness where you're concerned."
I noted he didn't threaten me with a spanking again. Did he understand that administered pain with sex was a major trigger for me? It took me back to a mental place I never wanted to return to.
On the ride back to Gideon's place, I curled into him in the back of the Bentley, my legs slung over one of his thighs and my head on his shoulder. I thought about the ways Nathan's abuse still affected my life - my sex life in particular.
How many of those ghosts could Gideon and I exorcise together? After that brief glimpse of toys I'd seen in the hotel room drawer, it was clear he was more experienced and sexually adventurous than I was. And the pleasure I'd derived from the ferocity of his lovemaking on the couch earlier proved to me that he could do things to me no one else could.
"I trust you," I whispered.
His arms tightened around me. With his lips in my hair, he murmured, "We're going to be good for each other, Eva."
When I fell asleep in his arms later that night, it was with those words in my head.
"Don't...No. No, don't.... Please."
Gideon's cries had me jackknifing up in the bed, my heart thudding violently. I fought for breath, glancing wild-eyed at the man thrashing next to me.
He snarled like a feral beast, his hands fisted and his legs kicking restlessly. I moved back, afraid he'd strike out at me unknowingly in his dreams.
"Get off of me," he panted.
"Gideon! Wake up."
"Get...off..." His h*ps arched upward with a hiss of pain. He hovered there, teeth gritted, his back bowed as if the bed was on fire beneath him. Then he collapsed, the mattress jolting as he bounced off of it.
"Gideon." I reached for the bedside lamp, my throat burning. I couldn't reach it, had to throw the tangled blankets off to get closer. Gideon was writhing in agony, thrashing so violently he shook the bed.
The room lit up in a sudden flare of illumination. I turned toward him...
And found him masturbating with shocking viciousness.
His right hand gripped his c**k with white knuckled force, pumping brutally fast. His left hand clenched the fitted sheet. Torment and pain twisted his beautiful face.
Fearing for his safety, I shoved his shoulder with both hands. "Gideon, goddamn it. Wake up!"
My scream broke through the nightmare. His eyes flew open and he jerked upright, his eyes darting frantically.
"What?" he gasped, his chest heaving. His face was flushed, his lips and cheeks red with arousal. "What is it?"
"Jesus." I shoved my hands through my hair and slid out of bed, snatching up the black robe I'd hung over the footboard.
What was in his mind? What could make someone have such violently sexual dreams?
My voice shook. "You were having a nightmare. You scared the hell out of me."
"Eva." He looked down at his erection and his color darkened with shame.
I stared at him from my safe place by the window, tying the sash of my robe with a yank. "What were you dreaming about?"
He shook his head, his gaze lowered with humiliation, a vulnerable posture I didn't know or recognize in him. It was as if someone else had taken over Gideon's body. "I don't know."
"Bullshit. Something's in you, something's eating at you. What is it?"
He rallied visibly as his brain struggled free of sleep. "It was just a dream, Eva. People have them."
I stared at him, hurt blooming that he would take that tone with me, as if I was being irrational. "Screw you."
His shoulders squared, and he tugged the sheet over his lap. "Why are you mad?"
"Because you're lying."
His chest expanded on a deep breath; then he released it in a rush. "I'm sorry I woke you."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache gathering strength. My eyes stung with the need to cry for him, to cry for whatever torment he'd once lived through. And to cry for us, because if he didn't let me in, our relationship had nowhere to go.