by Danes, Ellie
“No, it’s a good story,” I told him.
The waiter came with our food. We ate in silence for a few minutes.
“I feel like I made things awkward between us,” Gage said finally.
“Not at all,” I said, hoping I sounded like I meant it. “It’s just that…” I pressed my lips together and put my fork down.
“What is it?” he asked. “It’s okay, you can tell me what you’re thinking. I want to know.”
“Well…don’t you think Leah would want you to find someone?”
“Of course,” he said, nodding. “I just have sort of...it feels almost like cheating on her, in my mind, to even think about being with someone else.”
“That explains some things,” I mused.
Gage raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to enlighten me.”
“I kept waiting for you to try and--I don’t know--make a move on me, or suggest some kind of quid pro quo situation in exchange for how helpful you’ve been,” I explained. “And then last night I thought that something might happen between us...but then you basically sent me up to my room.”
Gage looked at me for a long moment and my heart started beating faster. Oh god, now he thinks I’m being some creep, coming onto him like this.
“I wasn’t wrong then--you are into me,” Gage said, making it not quite a question.
My cheeks burned and I knew I had to be blushing about the shade of a tomato.
“Well yeah,” I said, laughing nervously. “I mean, you’re handsome and hot, and you’ve been so helpful, and dealt with Brad, and apparently you haven’t been just trying to get into my pants.” I took a sip of my drink to try and keep myself from just rambling on.
“I kind of thought--” Gage pressed his lips together. “Last night, I sort of figured that after dealing with Brad, it wouldn’t be a good idea. Besides, you were half drunk.”
I laughed again. “I wasn’t that drunk,” I protested. “I was tipsy, but so were you, and I was still capable of making my own choices.”
“I wanted to kiss you,” Gage said flatly. “I think I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I met you on that plane. But I didn’t even let myself know I felt that way until last night, and last night seemed like bad timing.”
“Then maybe we should take a nap after lunch after all,” I suggested, feeling that tingly, effervescent feeling coursing through my body, caressing my nerves and murmuring in my blood. Excitement, a thrill that was equal parts nervousness and desire. It had been so long since I’d had that feeling--even when I’d been with Brad, I hadn’t felt it with him. I had given up on thinking I would ever feel this giddy, silly way again.
“Maybe we should,” Gage said with a playful grin.
It was all I could do to make myself finish my food. It was delicious, but I barely even tasted it, because I was humming with energy from the inside out, like I might actually glow in the dark. I couldn’t even bring myself to argue with him over who was going to pay for lunch--I just wanted to get alone with him as quickly as possible.
We got Roscoe into the car and drove the few blocks to Gage’s house, and I felt that twinge of nervousness right when we stepped through the door again. What if we were both just all talk? What if one of us was a bad kisser, or something ruined things somehow?
Gage unclipped the leash from Roscoe’s collar and closed the door behind us, and then I didn’t have time to worry anymore.
He leaned in, his hands going exactly to my waist--not too high, not too low--and brushed his lips against my forehead.
“Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable,” he murmured, and then he drifted down, barely skimming the tip of my nose, to kiss me on the lips. He started out soft, gentle, and I reached my hands up, draping my arms around his shoulders. It was like all that electricity crackling through me started passing between us, and before I knew it we were both deepening the kiss, our hands starting to move over each other’s clothes. I didn’t know for sure if I wanted things to go further than they were, but I didn’t think I could stand for them to stop.
Slowly, slowly, we moved away from the door, kissing each other, tasting each other’s lips, and I even dipped down to Gage’s neck, kissing and nibbling the sensitive, sweat-salty skin there. He slipped my shirt off of me and I didn’t care where it went--I just focused on unbuttoning his shirt so I could get more contact with his skin.
All at once, Gage pulled back, breaking away from my lips to look into my eyes. “Are you still comfortable with this?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling breathless.
There was an ache between my hips and I wanted nothing at all more than to relieve it--and I was pretty sure Gage had more than a few good ideas for how to take care of it. He kissed me again quickly and I realized we were right at the door to his bedroom. Did I want to have sex with him? My heart was pounding in my chest—yes, I did want this. I wanted it so much.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” Gage repeated.
“I don’t want to stop,” I told him.
“I think,” Gage mused, dragging his lips along the line of my jaw, “we should probably go slow. Don’t you?”
“It’s too hot out to go fast, anyway,” I said with an only slightly nervous giggle. “I’m definitely fine with going slow.”
Instead of saying anything, Gage reached down and lifted me into his arms, carrying me past the threshold of his bedroom door and into the room itself. He tumbled me down onto the bed, and I didn’t even have any time to take note of anything in the room--other than the fact that the bed was even more comfortable than the guest bed--before he was on top of me, kissing me, making me more and more unbearably turned on until I couldn’t even remember being nervous about anything. We undressed each other, and all I could think of as I got more wrapped up in what we were doing was that it was exactly what I wanted.
He kissed his way down my throat and down to my breasts. I gasped as his tongue circled my nipple. He blew on it and I gasped again, pulling him to me.
“Please,” I whispered.
He grinned and crawled down my body. His tongue dipped between my legs and I moaned, grabbing his head to hold him in place, telling him with every flex of my muscles, every breathy moan from my throat, that I wanted more, that I wanted him.
His tongue was warm, wet, and he drove me to the brink again and again. When he pressed a single finger inside me and moved it in and out, I exploded in the best orgasm I’d had in my life. Limbs shaking, tensing, tingling with pleasure.
Afterward, I pulled him up to kiss my mouth. “Thank you,” I said. “That was amazing. But we’re not done yet.”
He gave me a mischievous grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Nice and slow, just like you said, right?” I asked.
“However the lady wants it.”
I reached down and stroked his generous length with my fingers. He pressed into me, seeking more contact.
“Do you need protection?” he asked.
“I’m on birth control,” I said, “and I haven’t had unprotected sex ever.”
He nodded. “I haven’t since…well, in years. I’m healthy. But if you want—”
“I want you. Right now. Just you.” I bit my lip and looked up at him, at the way his muscles bulged as he held himself so patiently over me.
He dipped his head down to mine and kissed me. I kissed him back and stroked his hardness, even as he nudged my knees farther apart. Then I helped guide him to my entrance.
It was a tight fit, but with every pleasurable stroke, I grew accustomed to his size.
“Aspen,” he murmured. “It’s so good. You’re so good.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist and we rocked back and forth together, every stroke bringing us closer and closer to the finish that felt less like a finish and more like a new beginning. He kissed my neck, my throat, and just as I burst into my second orgasm, Gage tensed up and came at the same time, pulsing his pleasure within me.
Chapter Seventeen
Gage
I woke up the next morning with my bed empty other than me. I felt a stab of panic, followed by guilt. Had I done something wrong? Aspen had seemed into everything yesterday—we’d both been sober, and she’d seemed enthusiastic.
Then I smelled coffee--and delicious food--coming from the kitchen, and I smiled to myself as I put on a pair of pajama pants. I couldn’t have done anything too wrong if Aspen was making me breakfast, could I?
I stepped out of the bedroom in time to see Aspen, dressed in one of my t-shirts and--I was pretty sure--nothing else, talking to Roscoe.
“I’m sorry, but pancakes are not for dogs,” she said, and she actually sounded sympathetic.
“I can smell bacon, and I think that’s probably pretty decent for dogs,” I said.
Aspen jumped before shooting me a grin. “You surprised me. Anyway, he’s had two slices of bacon already.”
I came the rest of the way into the kitchen and took in the feast she’d managed to prepare since she’d gotten up: pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit salad, orange juice, and coffee. Everything you could want to eat after spending the night having sex again and again. Once we’d gotten started, it was like we couldn’t stop.
“How long have you been awake?” I gestured to all the food, and Aspen laughed.
“About an hour and a half. I was just about to wake you up, actually,” she replied.
“Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll serve us both? That seems fair,” I said, thinking of all the work she would have done in such a short time.
“Don’t have to make that suggestion twice,” Aspen said, seating herself at the bar. I got the pancakes out of the oven where she’d left them to stay warm and filled plates for both of us with plenty of food.
“So, do you want to stay in today, or do some more sightseeing?” I sat down next to Aspen. Only the practical need to have my hands free to eat properly stopped me from reaching out to hold her hand.
“I should probably get some more ‘sightseeing’ done,” Aspen said. “As much as I would like to spend the whole day seeing just how many positions we can do it in--I am here for a purpose.”
“We can stop by the property I just bought, if you want--see if that lines up with anything your grandma wrote about,” I suggested as I sipped coffee and ate pancakes.
Aspen was definitely a damned fine cook--even better, I thought, in some respects, than Leah had been. It was the first time I’d let myself think of my late wife since we’d gotten home from the restaurant yesterday, and I was surprised to find there wasn’t any guilt in me, no sense of having cheated. Leah had been gone for a few years now. She would want me to move on, to find someone to care for.
Aspen’s probably going to leave the Keys as soon as she finds her grandmother’s resting place, I reminded myself. But in the meantime, it felt good to be affectionate with a woman again, care about her, have feelings for her.
“That sounds good, actually,” Aspen said.
“As soon as you give me a chance to clean up the kitchen, we’ll head out,” I said.
Aspen gave me a quick look. “I can help.”
“You cooked all this--I am going to do the cleanup,” I insisted. “Besides, you need to be wearing more than my t-shirt if we’re going to be wandering around. Key West is pretty lax on dress codes, but the outfit you’re in right now would attract attention you might not want.”
Aspen snorted and shook her head.
“Fine, fine, fine,” she said, gesturing with her hands that she was giving up on the idea of helping me clean the kitchen. “I’ll grab a quick shower and we’ll head out.”
I suggested she use the shower for my room while I got started, and by the time she was headed upstairs to the guest room, where her clothes were, I had the kitchen straightened up and the dishes going.
I had the feeling that as soon as people saw us together, they’d know something had happened between us--that Aspen wasn’t just my house guest anymore. We’d become the talk of the town anyway, so people would be watching us carefully to see things develop. I’d never been good at hiding my feelings and I didn’t intend to work that hard on it even if I’d rather the neighbors mind their own business.
For the first time since Leah had died, I was happy--truly, completely happy.
We left Roscoe at home and I took Aspen to the upper end of the historic area of Key West to show her the land I’d just bought. It had formerly been attached to the seaport, part of the Harbor Walk; but no one had done anything with it for over a decade. I started telling Aspen about the history of the area, about Harbor Walk itself and the seaport, and she followed in my wake, looking around and smiling slightly to herself.
“There’s been a lot of historic moments that have happened here, you know,” I said as we wandered along the walkway. I pointed out the different features and told her about the history of them as best as I could. I’d done my research when I was thinking about buying property near the seaport. “This over here--we’re coming up on the area I bought,” I said, gesturing ahead of us.
“What are you planning on doing with it?” she asked.
I shrugged, looking at the haggard, worn-out constructions all around the area I’d just bought.
“I’m probably going to clear it out, put in a park of some kind,” I said. I grinned. “Maybe even a dog park, have somewhere for Roscoe to play that isn’t the backyard.”
“Would it be private or public?”
I shrugged again. “I haven’t really decided, to tell the truth,” I said. “I might make it semi-public if it’s a dog park; the insurance won’t be as bad if people need a key to get in.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Aspen said, sounding almost absentminded. She was looking around, half-frowning, and I wondered what was going on in her mind. “Wait--what did you say used to be over that way?”
She pointed in the direction we had come and I tried to remember what I’d said most recently.
“Oh--that just used to be where one of the cruise lines debarked passengers,” I said.
Aspen’s eyes widened. “Which line?”
She looked at me urgently and I rattled off the name--it was long-defunct, out of business in the eighties or nineties after their ships had gotten too far into disrepair.
“What’s up?” I asked.
Before Aspen could answer my question, a Key West police department officer strode up to us.
“Excuse me,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Yes?” I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at the guy. I didn’t know him--he must have been a recent transfer from a mainland PD.
“Are you Gage Hawkins?” he asked.
“Yes, I am,” I confirmed.
“Are you Aspen Blake?” Aspen looked at me in surprise, before turning her attention back onto the police officer.
“Yes, that’s me,” Aspen replied.
“I need you to come with me, ma’am,” the officer said.
“Excuse me?” I said. “Why does she need to come with you?”
“We have a report that this woman attacked and stole money from someone,” the officer said, sounding almost apologetic. “We need to take her in for questioning.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said. “There is no way that has any basis in reality.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hawkins,” the officer said. “We have to investigate the report.”
“When was she supposed to have attacked this person? Because she’s been with me for the majority of the past several days.”
“The majority, but not all of it,” the officer said, looking uncomfortable.
I scowled at him.
“Please don’t make this difficult,” the officer said, “I’m just doing my job.”
“If you take her, I’m coming with her,” I told him firmly.
“It has to be Brad,” Aspen said.
I nodded. That was the same thing I was thinking: that her ex-boyfriend, out of spite, had pulled this to ma
ke himself a victim and throw another wrench into her mission.
“Please just come with me, Ms. Blake,” the officer said. A pair of handcuffs dangled from one of his hands.
“You aren’t arresting her, are you?” I asked.
“If you’ll both come along with me without any kind of struggle, I can leave these off,” the officer said, looking doubtful.
“Please do,” I said. “We’ll come with you, but I’m going to insist that you do not treat this woman like a criminal, because she is actually a victim.”
I looked at Aspen’s worried face and felt hot anger thrumming through my system. As soon as I found that asshole, he’d have a real case for being attacked.
Chapter Eighteen
Aspen
I had only just realized where I was when the cop showed up, so I hadn’t had the opportunity to tell Gage that we’d accidentally stumbled upon the place where my grandmother and grandfather had met, and that it was right next to the property he’d just purchased. Instead, my thoughts were spinning around in tight circles, trying to figure out how I was going to prove that there was no way in hell that I’d attacked anyone.
The police department wasn’t too far away, and if I’d been hoping that I’d see Brad there--just to confirm that it was him who had accused me--I was disappointed. Considering how mad you are at him right now, it’s probably for the best that he’s not here--because you might have ended up turning the fake charge into the real deal, I thought wryly.
“Now, if you’ll both have a seat, I’m sure we can get to the bottom of this,” the officer said.
I couldn’t quite get over my intense dislike of him, just on principle. While I could rationally understand that he needed to investigate all the reports that came in, and that he was doing his due diligence as an officer of the law, there was part of me that was still determined to resent the fact that he had looked at me, seen no obvious sign that I’d attacked anyone, and still believed it enough to make me come with him to the station.
“What exactly is the charge against me?” I asked.
The officer sat down at his desk and looked at me warily.