Bared to You: A Crossfire Novel

for long. The five minutes since we’d ended our cal was just about the right length of time for her to realize the cel phone issue hadn’t been resolved. Once again, I debated ignoring the phone, but I didn’t want to take any of the day’s crap home with me.

I answered with my usual greeting, but it lacked its usual punch.

“I’m stil thinking about you.”

The velvet rasp of Cross’s voice flooded me with such relief I realized I’d been hoping to hear it again.

Today.

God. The craving was so acute I knew he’d become a drug to my body, the prime source of some very intense highs.

“I can stil feel you, Eva. Stil taste you. I’ve been hard since you left, through two meetings and one teleconference. You’ve got the advantage, state your demands.”

“Ah,” I murmured. “Lemme think.”

I let him wait, smiling as I remembered Cary’s comment about blue bal s. “Hmm…Nothing is coming to mind. But I do have some friendly advice. Go spend time with a woman who salivates at your feet and makes you feel like a god. Fuck her until neither of you can walk. When you see me on Monday you’l be total y over it and your life wil return to its usual obsessive-compulsive order.”

The creak of leather sounded over the phone and I imagined him leaning back in his desk chair. “That was your one free pass, Eva. The next time you insult my intel igence, I’l take you over my knee.”

“I don’t like that sort of thing.” And yet the warning, given in that voice, aroused me. Dark and Dangerous for sure.

“We’l discuss. In the interim, tel me what you do like.”

I stood. “You definitely have the voice for phone sex, but I’ve got to go. I have a date with my vibrator.” I should’ve hung up then, to gain the ful effect of the brush-off, but I couldn’t resist learning if he’d gloat like I had imagined he would. Plus, I was having fun with him.

“Oh, Eva.” Cross spoke my name in a decadent purr. “You’re determined to drive me to my knees, aren’t you? What wil it take to talk you into a

threesome with B.O.B.?”

I ignored both questions as I slung my bag and purse over my shoulder, grateful he couldn’t see how my hand shook. I was not discussing Battery Operated Boyfriends with Gideon Cross. I’d never discussed masturbation openly with a man, let alone a man who was for al intents and purposes a stranger to me.

“B.O.B. and I have a longtime understanding—when we’re done with each other, we know exactly which one of us has been used, and it isn’t me. Good night, Gideon.”

I hung up and took the stairs, deciding the twenty-floor descent would serve double-duty as both an avoidance technique and a replacement for a visit to the gym.

I was so grateful to be home after the day I’d had that I practical y danced through my apartment’s front door.

My heartfelt “God, it’s good to be home!” and accompanying spin was vehement enough to startle the couple on the couch.

“Oh,” I said, wincing at my own sil iness. Cary wasn’t in a compromising position with his guest when I barged in, but they’d been sitting close enough to suggest intimacy.

Grudgingly, I thought of Gideon Cross, who preferred to strip al intimacy out of the most intimate act I could imagine. I’d had one-night stands and friends with benefits, and no one knew better than I that sex and making love were two very different things, but I didn’t think I’d ever be able to view sex like a handshake. I thought it was sad that Cross did, even though he wasn’t a man who inspired pity or sympathy.

“Hey, baby girl,” Cary cal ed out, pushing to his feet.

“I was hoping you’d make it back before Trey had to leave.”

“I have class in an hour,” Trey explained, rounding the coffee table as I dropped my bag on the floor and put my purse on a barstool at the breakfast bar. “But I’m glad I got to meet you before I left.”

“Me, too.” I shook the hand he extended to me, taking him in with a quick glance. He was about my age, I guessed. Average height and nicely muscular.

He had unruly blond hair, soft hazel eyes, and a nose that had clearly been broken at some point.

“Mind if I grab a glass of wine?” I asked. “It’s been a long day.”

“Go for it,” Trey replied.

“I’l take one, too.” Cary joined us by the breakfast bar. He was wearing loose-fitting black jeans and an off-the-shoulder black sweater. The look was casual and elegant, and did a phenomenal job of offsetting his dark brown hair and emerald eyes.

I went to the wine fridge and pul ed out a random bottle.

Trey shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels, talking quietly with Cary as I uncorked and poured.

The phone rang and I grabbed the handset off the wal . “Hel o?”

“Hey, Eva? It’s Parker Smith.”

“Parker, hi.” I leaned my hip into the counter. “How are you?”