“You’re very welcome. I’ve enjoyed watching him receive your flowers today. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that.”
A warm rush of love flowed through me. I wanted to make Gideon happy. As he’d said, I lived for it.
I went back to work with a smile of my own. At two o’clock, I had a tiger lily arrangement delivered to Gideon’s office fol owed by a private note sent via interoffice envelope:
In gratitude for all the jungle sex.
His reply:
Skip the Krav Maga. I’ll give you a workout.
When three forty rol ed around—five minutes before my appointment with Gideon—I got nervous. I stood up from my chair on shaky legs and paced in the elevator on the way up to his floor. Now that the time had come to give him my gift, I worried that maybe he didn’t like rings…after al , he didn’t wear any.
Was it too presumptuous and possessive of me to want him to wear one just because I did?
The redheaded receptionist didn’t give me any trouble getting in and when Scott spotted me emerging from the hal way, he stood from his desk and greeted me with a wide grin. When I stepped into Gideon’s office, Scott closed the door behind me.
I was immediately struck by the lovely fragrance of the flowers and the way they warmed the starkly modern office.
Gideon looked up from his monitor, his brows lifting when he saw me. He pushed fluidly to his feet. “Eva. Is something wrong?”
I watched him shift gears from professional to personal, his gaze softening as he looked at me.
“No. It’s just…” I took a deep breath and went to him.
“I have something for you.”
“More? Did I forget a special occasion?” I set the ring box down in the center of his desk.
Then I turned away, feeling queasy. I seriously doubted the wisdom of my impetuous gift. It seemed like a stupid idea now.
What could I say to absolve him of guilt for not wanting it? As if it wasn’t bad enough I’d dropped the
“L” bomb on him today; then I had to fol ow it up with a damned ring. He was probably feeling the bal and chain already, dragging after him as he ran. And the noose tightening—
I heard the ring box snap open and Gideon’s sharply drawn breath.
His voice was dark and dangerous. I turned careful y, wincing at the austerity of his features and the starkness of his gaze. His hands were white-knuckled on the box.
“Too much?” I asked hoarsely.
“Yes.” He set the box down and rounded the desk.
“Too damn much. I can’t sit stil , I can’t concentrate. I can’t get you out of my head. I’m fucking restless, and I never am when I’m at work. I’m too busy. But you have me under siege.”
I knew damn wel how demanding his work had to be, yet I hadn’t taken that into consideration when the mood to surprise him—again and again—hit me. “I’m sorry, Gideon. I wasn’t thinking.”
He approached with the sexy stride that hinted at how great he was in the sack. “Don’t be sorry. Today has been the best day of my life.”
“Real y?” I watched him slide the ring onto his right ring finger. “I wanted to please you. Does it fit? I had to guess…”
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Gideon caught up my hands and kissed my ring; then watched as I repeated the gesture with his. “What you make me feel, Eva…it hurts.”
My pulse leaped. “Is that bad?”
“It’s wonderful.” He cupped my face, his ring cool against my cheek. He kissed me passionately, his lips demanding against mine, his tongue thrusting with wicked skil into my mouth.
I wanted more, but restrained myself, thinking that I’d already gone overboard enough for one day. Plus, he’d been too distracted by my unexpected appearance to frost the glass wal to give us privacy.
“Tel me again what you said in the car,” he whispered.
“Hmm…I don’t know.” I brushed my free hand over his vest. I was afraid to tel him again that I loved him.
He’d taken it hard the first time, and I wasn’t sure he’d ful y taken in what it meant for us. For him. “You’re ridiculously handsome, you know. It’s a sucker punch every time I see you. Anyway…I don’t want to risk scaring you away.”
Leaning toward me, he touched his forehead to mine. “You regret what you said, don’t you? Al the flowers, the ring—”
“Do you real y like it?” I asked anxiously, pul ing back to study his face and see if he was hedging on the truth. “I don’t want you to wear it for me if you hate it.”
His fingers traced the shel of my ear. “It’s perfect.
It’s how you see me. I’m proud to wear it.” I loved that he got it. Of course, that’s because he got me.
“If you’re trying to soften the blow of taking back what you said—” he began, his gaze betraying a surprising anxiety.
I couldn’t resist the soft plea in his eyes. “I meant every word, Gideon.”
