“Thank you.”

Gideon’s grip tightened. “Apparently there are enough people with this problem that there have been sleep studies on it. He told me about a documented case where a man sexual y assaulted his wife in his sleep for twelve years before they sought help.”

“Twelve years? Jesus.”

“Apparently part of the reason they waited so long was because the man was a better lay when he was asleep,” he said dryly. “And if that’s not a kil er blow to the ego, I don’t know what is.”

I stared at him. “Wel , shit.”

“I know, right?” His wry smile faded. “But I don’t want you to feel pressured to share a bed with me, Eva.

There is no magic pil . I can sleep on the couch or I can

go home, although of the two choices I’d prefer the couch. My whole day is better after getting ready for work with you.”

“For me, too.”

Reaching over, Gideon caught my hand and lifted it to his lips. “I never imagined I could have this…

Someone in my life who knows what you do about me.

Someone who could talk about my fuck-ups over dinner because they accept me anyway…I’m grateful for you, Eva.”

My heart twisted with a sweet pain in my chest. He could say such beautiful things, the perfect things.

“I feel the same way about you, ace.” Deeper, maybe, because I loved him. But I didn’t say that aloud.

He’d get there someday. I wasn’t going to give up until he was absolutely, irrevocably mine.

With his bare feet propped on the coffee table and his computer on his lap, Gideon looked so at home and relaxed that he kept distracting me from my television shows.

How did we get here? I asked myself. This extravagantly sexy man and me?

“You’re staring,” he murmured, his gaze on his laptop screen.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Is that a sexual suggestion, Miss Tramel ?”

“How do you see me while staring at whatever

you’re working on?”