Reflected in You (Crossfire 2)

His desire was charging the air between us.

I had been falling under its spell all through dinner.

Reaching beneath the tablecloth, I cupped his c**k through his jeans and squeezed.

He went from semihard to stone instantly but gave no other outward indication of his arousal.

I couldn't help but see that as a challenge.

I began to stroke the rigid length of him with my fingers, careful to keep my movements slow and easy to prevent detection.

To my delight, Gideon continued his conversation without a hitch in his voice or change of expression.

His control excited me, made me bolder.

I reached for his button fly, turned on by the thought of releasing him and stroking him skin on skin.Gideon took another leisurely sip, then set his wineglass down.

"Only you, Arnoldo," he said dryly in response to something his friend had said.My wrist was caught just as I tugged at the top button of his jeans.

He lifted my hand to his lips, the gesture appearing to be an absentminded show of affection.

The quick nip of his teeth into the pad of my finger caught me by surprise and made me gasp.

Arnoldo smiled; it was the knowing and slightly mocking smile one bachelor gave to another who'd been caught by a woman.

He said something in Italian.

Gideon replied, his pronunciation sounding fluid and sexy, his tone wry.

Arnoldo threw his dark head back and laughed.

I squirmed in my seat.

I loved seeing Gideon like this, relaxed and enjoying himself.

He looked at my empty dessert plate, then at me.

"Ready to go?" "Oh, yes."

I was dying to see how the rest of the night would go, how many more sides of Gideon I'd get to discover.

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.

He was so complex and still a huge mystery to me.

I'd barely scratched the surface of who he was.

Which didn't stop me from being in too deep.

* * *

"These guys are good!" Shawna yelled as the opening act barreled headlong into their fifth song.

We'd left our seats after the third, working our way through a writhing crowd to the railing that divided the seating area from the mosh pit in front of the stage.

Gideon surrounded me, his arms caging me on both sides, his hands gripping the rail.

The audience pressed in around us, collectively pushing forward, but I was cushioned from it by his body, just as Shawna was by Arnoldo beside us.

I was sure Gideon could have gotten us way better seats, but I didn't have to tell him that the way Shawna had scored her fan-only tickets and the fact that she'd invited us meant her seats were our only option.

I loved him for understanding that and for going with the flow.

Turning my head, I looked at him.

"Is this band with Vidal, too?" "No.

But I like them."

I was stoked that he was enjoying the show.

Lifting my arms in the air, I screamed, feeling pumped by the energy of the crowd and the driving beat.

I danced within the circle of Gideon's arms, my body drenched in sweat, my blood raging.

When the act was done, the stagehands quickly set to work breaking down the equipment and setting up for Six-Ninths.

Grateful for the evening, for the joy, for the awesomeness of going wild with the man I loved, I turned and threw my arms around Gideon's neck, mashing my lips to his.

He lifted me and urged my legs around his waist, kissing me violently.

He was hard and pressing against me, luring me to grind into him.

Around us people whistled and catcalled things that ranged from "Get a room" to "Fuck her, man!" but I didn't care and neither did Gideon, who seemed as swept away by the sensual craziness as I was.

His hand on my bu**ocks rocked me into his erection while the other fisted in my hair, holding me where he wanted me as he kissed me as if he couldn't stop, as if he were starving for the taste of me.

Our open mouths slid desperately across each other.

He tongued me deep and fast, f**king my mouth, making love to it.

I drank him in, licking and tasting, moaning at his insatiable need.

He sucked on my tongue, the circle of his lips sliding along it.

It was too much.

I was slick and aching for his cock, nearly frantic with the need to feel him filling me.

"You're going to make me come," he growled, before tugging on my bottom lip with his teeth.

I was so into him and the ferocity of his passion for me that I barely registered when Six-Ninths started.

It wasn't until the vocals kicked in that I was jolted back to where I was.

I stiffened, my mind clawing its way up through the fog of desire to process what I was hearing.

I knew the song.

My eyes opened as Gideon pulled back.

Over his shoulder I saw handwritten signs held up in the air.

BRETT KLINE IS MINE! And BANG ME, BRETT! And my personal favorite, BRETT, I'D HIT IT WITH YOU LIKE THE WRATH OF GOD!!! Hell.

What were the chances? And Cary had known, of course.

He'd known and hadn't warned me.

Probably thought it'd be hysterical for me to find out by accident instead.

My legs loosened from around Gideon's h*ps and he set me down, protecting me from the frenzied fans with the shield of his body.

I turned to face the stage, feeling a mad fluttering in my belly.

Sure enough, it was Brett Kline at the mic, his deep, powerful, sexy-as-hell voice pouring over the thousands who'd come to see him in action.

His short hair was spiked and tipped with platinum, his lean body clothed in olive cargo pants and a black tank top.

It was impossible to see from where I was, but I knew his eyes were a brilliant emerald green, his face was ruggedly handsome, and his killer smile revealed a dimple that drove women crazy.

Tearing my eyes away from him, I looked at the other band members, recognizing all of them.

They hadn't been called Six-Ninths back in San Diego, though.

They'd been called Captive Soul then, and I wondered what had led to the name change.

"Good, aren't they?" Gideon asked with his mouth to my ear so I could hear him.

He had one hand on the railing and the other around my waist, keeping me pulled up tight against him as he moved to the music.

The combination of his body and Brett's voice did insane things to my already raging sex drive.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the man behind me and the unique rush I'd always felt while listening to Brett sing.

The music throbbed through my veins, bringing back memories - some good and some bad.

I swayed in Gideon's arms, desire pounding through me.

I was achingly aware of his hunger.

It poured off him like heat waves, sinking into me, making me crave him until the physical distance between us was painful.

Grabbing the hand he had pressed flat against my stomach, I urged it downward.

"Eva."

His voice was harsh with lust.

I'd been pushing him all night, from the moment I told him my period was over, to the hand job beneath the restaurant table, to the scorching kiss in the intermission.

He gripped my bare thigh and squeezed.

"Open."

I set my left foot on the bottom of the railing.

My head fell back against his shoulder and a heartbeat later, his hand was under my skirt.

His tongue traced the shell of my ear, his breathing hard and fast.

I felt him groan as much as heard it when he discovered how wet I was.

One song blended into another.

Gideon rubbed me through the crotch of my boyshorts, moving in circles, then vertically through my cleft.

My h*ps rolled into his touch, my core clenching, my ass grinding into the hard ridge of his erection.

I was going to come right there, inches away from dozens of people, because that was what Gideon did to me.

That was how insanely he turned me on.

Nothing mattered when his hands were on me, his attention completely riveted to me.

"That's it, angel."

His fingers pushed my underwear aside and two sank into me.

"I'm going to f**k this gorgeous cunt for days."

With bodies pressing in all around us, music pounding over us, and privacy granted only by distraction, Gideon slid his fingers deep into my soaked sex and stayed there.

The solid, unmoving penetration drove me wild.

I ground my h*ps into his hand, working toward the orgasm I needed so desperately.

The song ended and the lights went out.

Drenched in darkness, the crowd roared.

Anticipation weighted the audience, building until the strum of guitar strings broke the heavy expectation.

Shouts rang out, then lighters flickered to life, turning the sea of people into thousands of fireflies.

A spotlight hit the stage, revealing Brett sitting on a bar stool, shirtless and glistening with sweat.

His chest was hard and defined, his abs ridged with muscle.

He lowered the height of the microphone stand and the piercings in his ni**les glittered with his movements.

The women in the audience screamed, including Shawna, who jumped in place and gave an earsplitting whistle.

I totally got it.

Sitting there as he was, with his feet propped on the rungs of the chair and his muscular arms covered in sleeves of black and gray tattoos, Brett looked insanely sexy and extremely f**kable.

For six months nearly four years ago I'd debased myself to get him na**d every chance I could, so infatuated with him and desperate to be loved that I took whatever scraps he threw me.

Gideon's fingers began to slide in and out of me.

The bass kicked in.

Brett began to sing a song I'd never heard before, his voice low and soulful, the words crystal clear.

He had the voice of a fallen angel.

Mesmerizing.

Seductive.

And the face and body to enhance the temptation.

Golden girl, there you are.

I'm singing for the crowd, the music's loud.

I'm living my dream, riding the high, But I see you there, sunlight in your hair, And I'm ready to go, desperate to fly.

Golden girl, there you are.

Dancing for the crowd, the music's loud.

I want you so bad.

I can't look away.

Later, you'll drop to your knees.

You'll beg me please.

And then you'll go, it's only your body I know.

Golden girl, where'd you go? You're not there, with sunlight in your hair.

I could have you in the bar or the back of my car, But never your heart.

I'm falling apart.

I'll drop to my knees, I'll beg you.

Please.

Please don't go.

There's so much more I want to know.

Eva, please.

I'm on my knees.

Golden girl, where'd you go? I'm singing for the crowd, the music's loud.

And you're not there, with sunlight in your hair.

Eva, please.

I'm on my knees.

The spotlight went dark.

A long moment passed as the music faded.

Then the lights came back on and the drums exploded with sound.

The flames winked out and the crowd went crazy.

But I was lost to the roaring in my ears, the tightness in my chest, and a confusion that had me reeling.

"That song," Gideon growled in my ear, his fingers f**king me forcefully, "makes me think of you."

His palm pressed into my cl*t and massaged, and I cl**axed in a rush that took me by storm.

Tears came to my eyes.

I cried out, shaking in his arms.

Gripping the railing in front of me, I held on and let the unstoppable pleasure pulse through me.