Page 28 of Ruthless Touch
Anything.
Just one word.
Maybe a smile or a nod of his head to let me know he’s alive in there and not just a mannequin someone dressed in an expensive Italian suit.
But he gives me nothing.
How is it possible this man can hear all of what I said and not respond?
Well, he’s going to. I’m just getting started.
I watch as Gideon methodically unbuttons his blue dress shirt, each button slowly undone before he moves his hands down to the next one. It’s almost hypnotizing to see, but since my brain is moving at a million miles an hour, I have a hard time focusing on that for longer than a few seconds.
He usually undresses in the bathroom, so I can’t help but wonder why he’s doing it right here in the bedroom. Then a thought dawns on me. He’s planning for us to have sex now. This man actually thinks he can cut me off in the middle of the act in the gallery yesterday and then just expect me to be at his beck and call, wet and willing for him now that he’s finally decided it’s time for us to be together again.
Hell. No.
When he shrugs out of his shirt, my brain takes a tiny siesta from all my planned speech to admire his body. He really is beautiful. Toned and muscular, his torso shows evidence of him spending some time in the gym. When he does that I have no idea, but let’s be honest. How much do I really know about what he does with his day since I’m stuck up here on the top floor the whole time?
My gaze travels down from his face to his strong shoulders and arms, over his toned pecs, and finally coming to rest on his washboard abs. Yes, he’s definitely someone who spends some time working out.
I want to say something to continue the conversation I started a few minutes ago, but the sight of him makes doing anything but watching him difficult. I hate that, to be honest. Not that I think it would be better if he was some potbellied ogre with a body that repulsed me, but I have the feeling that he’s using his to manipulate me at this moment.
“So you have nothing to say to all I just said?”
Gideon lifts his head as his hands drift down to unbutton his pants and lower his zipper. With a hint of a smile, he finally answers me. “No. I just want to take a shower, relax, and have a nice dinner. I’m assuming you’re hungry? Feel free to order whatever you want and get me the salmon. I’m in the mood for fish tonight. I think I saw some kind of fruity dessert when I walked through the kitchen earlier today. Order me that too.”
And just to punctuate his statement, which I swear sounds like utter madness right now after all I just said to him, he slides his pants off his right leg and then off his left one before setting his clothes on the chair near the bed. For any normal couple, this might pass for a proper conversation.
For us, it’s like we’re living two different realities, and his revolves around food, oddly enough.
“Gideon, didn’t you hear a word I said?” I ask in stunned irritation.
He takes a deep breath in, expanding his broad chest, and nods. “I did.”
“And all you have to say is you want the salmon and some fruit dessert the chef made today? Do you plan on just walking by me and getting into the shower without saying a word about all I said to you?”
With each moment that passes, my voice gets higher and higher until by the time I finally reach the end of my question and the word you comes out as barely a squeak. I swear to God this man is trying to drive me crazy!
He doesn’t answer either of my questions and begins walking toward the bathroom in his black boxer briefs that always make his legs look good. But I don’t want to think about how great his legs are now! I want a damn answer or at least some recognition of what I said. Either I was completely off base, and he needs to explain how it wasn’t a control problem yesterday, or I was right, and we can agree that if he wants to be the one in control, then that’s fine.
But this not saying anything is not working for me. In fact, it’s making me want to lash out, and I swear to God if he walks into that bathroom and closes the door without answering me, I’m going to lose it.
I watch in stunned disbelief as he does exactly that, and I swear he’s wearing a smile as he does it. That’s it! Gideon has finally pushed me too far.
My heart slams into my chest as I turn to follow him, each step sealing a fate he created. All he needed to do was talk to me. Now he won’t have a choice but to listen because he’ll be a captive audience.
Captive and naked.
My hand touches the doorknob and twists, giving me a sense of relief that it isn’t locked. Foolish mistake, Mr. Rule. Not that I wouldn’t have said my piece, but this will make it much easier since I don’t have to yell through a damn door.
He’s already in the shower, and when I look through the glass door, I see his entire body there on display. God, Gideon really is stunning.
No! Do not think like that. This man has kept you prisoner here in this gilded cage for nearly a month, and then when he finally decides to show you some affection, he cuts it off in the middle of what was shaping up to be some great sex. Whatever he looks like naked as the water rolls down over the peaks and valleys of his muscular abs before trailing over his long, thick cock has nothing to do with why you’re in this bathroom right now, Aria. Keep focused.
I take a deep breath of warm air into my lungs and hold it there before letting it out slowly. All I have to do is keep calm. He’s a master at that, but I’m not, so I have to truly keep my head in this if I want to get my point across.
“As I was saying, if it’s a control thing, all you need to do is tell me. I’m fine with that, Gideon.”