One with You (Crossfire #5)(47)

Gideon wasn’t the only one who’d come a long way.

As for me, I was dying to be with my husband. Stress brought on nightmares for him, so I pulled out my phone and texted him. Dream of me.

His response was so perfectly Gideon, it brought a smile to my face. Fly faster.

And just that quick, I knew he was back on his game.




“Wow.” I stared out the window of the jet as it taxied to a halt at a private airport on the outskirts of Rio. “Now, that’s a view.”

Standing on the tarmac were Gideon, Arnoldo, Manuel, and Arash. All dressed casually in long shorts and T-shirts. All dark-haired and tall. Beautifully muscular. Tanned.

They were lined up like a row of exotic, outrageously expensive sports cars. Powerful, sexy, dangerously fast.

I had no doubts about my husband’s fidelity, but if there had been any, looking at him would’ve settled them. His friends were loose-limbed and relaxed, their engines cooled by long, hard rides. That they’d enjoyed Rio—and its women—was stamped all over them. Gideon, however, was taut. Watchful. His motor was running, purring with the need to roar from zero to sixty in the space of a pounding heartbeat. No one had given my man a test drive.

I had come to him with the intent to soothe, to strategize, to take a bit of my wounded pride back. Instead, I was going to be the driver who burned his fuel.

Yes, please.

I felt a slight bump as the rolling staircase was positioned against the jet. Clancy exited first. My mom followed. I went after her, pausing at the top of the stairs to snap a picture with my phone. The image of Gideon and his friends was going to give the Internet something else to talk about.

I took the first step down and Gideon moved, his arms unfolding as he closed the distance between us. I couldn’t see his eyes, only myself in the reflection of his lenses, but I felt the intensity with which he had me in his sights. It made my knees weak, forcing me to hold on to the handrail for balance.

He shook Clancy’s hand. He endured and even managed to reciprocate a brief hug from my mother. But he never took his eyes off me or slowed more than a few seconds.

I’d put on red fuck-me heels for him. Tight, white shorts barely covered my ass and fastened well below my navel. My top was red lace, with thin straps. A red satin ribbon secured the corsetlike back. I had clipped my hair in a messy updo. Gideon made it messier when he caught me up on the last step and shoved his hand into it.

His mouth sealed over mine, as if he hadn’t noticed the red gloss I’d slicked on my lips. I was held suspended in his embrace, my feet off the ground, his arm banded tightly around my waist. Wrapping myself around him, I locked my ankles together at the small of his back, pushing up so that his head tilted back and I curved around him, my tongue licking deep into his mouth. The hand he’d had in my hair slid down to cup and support me, his grip kneading my ass in the demanding, possessive way I loved.

“That’s fucking hot,” Cary said from somewhere behind me.

Manuel gave a piercing whistle.

I couldn’t care less what kind of spectacle we made. Gideon’s hard body felt delicious and the taste of him was intoxicating. My thoughts scattered. I wanted to ride him, rub up against him. I wanted him naked and sweaty, covered in my scent. On his face, his hands, his cock.

My husband wasn’t the only one who wanted to mark his territory.

“Eva Lauren,” my mother scolded. “Get ahold of yourself.”

The sound of my mom’s voice cooled us both off instantly. I unwound my legs from his hips and let him ease me down until I was standing again. I pulled away reluctantly, my hands briefly lifting Gideon’s sunglasses so I could look into his eyes. Fury … lust …

I wiped the traces of my lip gloss off his mouth with my fingers. His lips were swollen from the passion of our kiss, the sensual curves softened.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over my lips. Urging my head back, he kissed the tip of my nose. He was tender now, his ferocious joy at seeing me tempered by having touched me.

“Eva,” Arnoldo said, coming up beside me with a small smile on his handsome face. “So good to see you.”

I turned to greet him, feeling nervous. I wanted us to be friends. I wanted him to forgive me for hurting Gideon. I wanted—

He kissed me full on the mouth. Stunned, I didn’t react.

“Off!” Gideon snapped.

“I am not a dog,” Arnoldo shot back. He looked at me with amusement. “He has been pining for you. Now, you can release him from his torment.”

My anxiety faded. He was warmer toward me than he’d been recently, more like he’d been when we were first introduced. “It’s really good to see you, too, Arnoldo.”

Arash came up next. When he lifted both hands to touch my face, Gideon’s arm shot out between us.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

“That’s not fair.”

I blew him a kiss.

Manuel was sneakier. He came up behind me and lifted me off my feet, smacking his lips against the side of my face. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Hello, Manuel,” I said with a laugh. “Having fun yet?”

“Don’t you know it.” Setting me down, he winked at me.

Gideon seemed to have calmed down somewhat. He shook Cary’s hand and asked briefly about Ibiza.

His friends met my mother, who instantly turned on the charm and got the expected results—they seemed captivated.

Gideon took my hand in his. “You have your passport?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s go.” He walked off briskly.

Hurrying to keep up with his stride, I looked back over my shoulder at the group we’d left behind. They were heading in a different direction.

“They’ve had their weekend with us,” he said, in answer to my unspoken question. “Today is ours.”

He ushered me through an expedited customs process, then back out to the tarmac where a helicopter waited.

The rotor blades began to revolve as we approached. Raúl abruptly appeared and opened the rear door. Gideon helped me up into the back, climbing in directly behind me. I reached for the safety belt, but he brushed my hands aside, securing me in quickly before settling back. He handed me a headset, then slipped on his own.

“Let’s go,” he told the pilot.

We were lifting into the air before Gideon had his seat belt on.




I was breathless when we reached the hotel, still awed by the sight of Rio sprawled beneath us, its beaches dotted with high rises and its hills covered in colorfully painted favelas. Cars packed the roads below, the traffic impressively dense even considered against the commutes I experienced in Manhattan. The famous Christ the Redeemer statue glistened on Corcovado Mountain in the distance to my right, as we rounded Sugarloaf and followed the coastline up to Barra da Tijuca.

It would have taken hours by car to get to the hotel from the airport. Instead, the trip took minutes. We were entering Gideon’s suite before my jet-lagged brain fully appreciated that I’d been in three countries in as many days.

Vientos Cruzados Barra was as luxurious as all the Crosswinds properties I had seen but with a local flavor that made it unique. Gideon’s suite was as large as the one I’d had in Ibiza and his view as impressive.

I paused to admire the beach from the balcony, noting the endless rows of coconut stands and the golden bodies on the beach. Samba music drifted through the air, earthy and sexy and upbeat. I took a picture, then uploaded both it and the one of the guys on the tarmac to my Instagram account. The view from here … #RioDeJaneiro

I tagged everyone and discovered that Arnoldo had snapped a picture of Gideon and me kissing passionately at the airport. It was a great photo, sexy and intimate. Arnoldo had a few hundred thousand followers and the photo already had dozens of comments and likes.

Dear friends enjoying #RioDeJaneiro and each other.

Gideon’s smartphone rang and he excused himself. I heard him speaking in another room and followed. We hadn’t said a word since we left the airport, as if we were saving them for intimate conversation. Or maybe we just didn’t need to say anything. Let the world talk and spread lies. We knew what we had. It didn’t need to be qualified, justified, or expressed.

I found him in an office, standing in front of a U-shaped desk covered in photos and notes, some of which had spilled onto the floor. The place was a mess, so unlike the rigid order my husband usually maintained. It took a moment to register that the photos were of the inside of a club and that they matched the background I’d seen in the photo of Gideon on Cinco de Mayo.

It was kind of eerie that we’d come to the same idea. It was also kind of awesome.

I turned to leave.

“Eva. Wait.”

I glanced at him.

“Tomorrow morning is better,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the call. “Text me when it’s confirmed.”

Gideon hung up and silenced his phone, setting it down by his sunglasses. “I want you to see these.”

Shaking my head, I told him, “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

He stared at me. Without his shades, I saw the shadows under his eyes.

“You didn’t sleep last night.” It wasn’t a question. I should have known he wouldn’t.

“I’m going to fix this.”

“Nothing’s broken.”