I jerked awake with a gasp, sitting up in a rush that sent an air-conditioned breeze across my sweat-soaked skin. I couldn’t breathe through the panic and fear choking me. Shoving off the sheet tangled around my legs, I stumbled out of bed, blind with terror. My stomach heaved in protest and I lurched into the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet before I vomited.

—

I showered, washing away the sticky sweat covering me.

The grief and despair weren’t so easy to get away from. As I scrubbed a dry towel over my skin, they weighed heavily, suffocating me. The memory of Eva’s pale face etched with betrayal and death haunted me. I couldn’t get it out of my head.

I stripped the bed with rough, jerky movements, then yanked a clean fitted sheet over the mattress.

“Gideon.”

I straightened and turned at the sound of Eva’s voice. She stood in the doorway to my bedroom, her hands twisting in the hem of the T-shirt she wore. Regret hit me hard. She’d gone to sleep alone in the room I’d had redesigned to look like her bedroom on the Upper West Side.

“Hey,” she said softly, tentatively, shifting on her feet in a way that told me how uncomfortable she felt. How wary. “Are you okay?”

The light from the bathroom lit her face, revealing dark circles and reddened eyes. She’d fallen asleep crying.

I’d done this to her. I had made her feel unwelcome, unwanted, her thoughts and feelings less of a concern to me than my own. I’d let my past drive a wedge between us.

No, that wasn’t true. I had let my fear push her away.

“No, angel, I’m not.”

She took a single step closer, then stopped herself.

Opening my arms, I said hoarsely, “I’m sorry, Eva.”

She came to me in a rush, her body lush and warm. I held her too tightly, but she didn’t complain. Pressing my cheek to the top of her head, I breathed in her scent. I could face anything—I would face anything—as long as she stayed with me.

“I’m afraid.” My voice was scarcely a whisper, but she heard it.

Her fingers dug into the muscles of my back as she pulled me closer. “Don’t be. I’m here.”

“I’ll try harder,” I promised. “Don’t give up on me.”

“Gideon.” She sighed, her breath soft against my chest. “I love you so much. I just want you to be happy. I’m sorry for pushing you after I said I wouldn’t.”

“It’s my fault. I f**ked up. I’m sorry, Eva. So sorry.”

“Shh. You don’t have to apologize.”

I picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her down carefully. I crawled into her arms, wrapping myself around her and resting my face against her belly. She ran her fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp, then my nape, then my back. Accepting me, despite all my flaws.

The cotton of her T-shirt grew wet with my tears and I curled in tighter, ashamed.

“I love you,” she murmured. “I’ll never stop.”

—

GIDEON.

I stirred at the sound of Eva’s voice, then at the feel of her hand sliding down my chest. Opening my tired, burning eyes, I saw her leaning over me, the room softly lit by the coming dawn, her hair aglow in the meager light.

“Angel?”

She shifted, sliding a leg over me. Rising, she straddled me. “Let’s make today our best ever.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m on board with that plan.”

Her smile rocked my world. She reached for something she’d left on her pillow and a moment later, haunting strains of music piped softly out of the speakers in the ceiling.

It took me a moment to recognize it. “Ave Maria.”

She touched my face, her fingertips gliding over my brow. “Okay?”

I wanted to answer her, but my throat was too tight. I could only nod. How could I tell her it felt like a dream, a breathtaking heaven I didn’t deserve?

She reached behind her to push the sheet below my h*ps and out of the way. Her arms crossed her torso to pull her shirt up and over her head. She threw it aside.

Awed, I struggled for my voice. “God, you’re beautiful,” I said hoarsely.

My hands lifted, gliding over the plush curves and valleys of her voluptuous body. I sat up and dug my heels into the bed, pushing us backward until I was leaning against the headboard. My hands went into her hair and down her throat. I could touch her for days and not get my fill.

“I love you,” she said, tilting her head to take my mouth in a hot, demanding kiss.

I let her have me, opening to her. Eva licked deep, stroking me with her tongue, her lips soft and wet against mine.

“Tell me what you need,” I murmured, lost to the gently muted music. Lost to her.

“You. Just you.”

“Take me, then,” I told her. “I’m yours.”

—

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, Cross,” Arash said, his fingers drumming on the armrest of the chair in front of my desk, “but you’ve lost your killer instinct. Eva’s tamed you.”

I glanced up from my monitor. After spending two hours of my morning making love with my wife, I could concede that I wasn’t feeling particularly aggressive. Slaked and relaxed was more apt. Still . . . “Just because I don’t think LanCorp’s PhazeOne gaming system is a threat to the GenTen doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention.”

“You’re aware,” he corrected, “which isn’t the same as paying attention, and I guarantee Ryan Landon has noticed. You used to do something every week or two to poke at him, which—for better or worse—gave him something to do.”