by Minard, Tori
“But —”
“Promise me, Nova. Tell me you won’t worry about me.”
“I—I can’t do that. I might not be able to help it.”
“You have to.”
“But why? Why are you saying this?” He was outright scaring me now. I didn’t like the undercurrent of self-loathing I could hear in his voice. Didn’t like it one bit.
“Never mind.” He sighed and gave me a weak grin. “I guess I’m just tired. I’m not making any sense.”
He was trying to change the subject and doing a poor job of hiding it. You’d think an actor would be able to fake it with ease, but maybe real-life lies were different from acting on-screen.
“Look,” I said. “I’m not going to promise not to care or worry about you. Sorry, but it’s too late for that. I started caring the second I saw you floating in the river. I can see you’re upset about something and if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I’m not going to bug you.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can talk about it.”
I was stupidly disappointed. Some part of me must have hoped he’d bare his soul to me, that I was special enough that he would talk to me when he hadn’t with anyone else. Silly, silly girl.
“Okay,” I said, and lifted the water glass to my lips to hide my reaction.
“Thanks for understanding,” he said. “It’s more important for you to drink that than listen to me whine all day anyhow.”
I didn’t think he was whining. He cared about his friend and missed him and seemed to be carrying around some kind of survivor’s guilt or something. I wished I could take some of that burden from him, but if he didn’t want to talk to me there was nothing I could do.
“Drink your water, Nova.”
“Yes, Dr. Gage.” I drank obediently.
My stomach still hurt. Getting the water down was difficult and all I could do was wet my tongue, over and over. Swallowing an actual mouthful would have sent me back to the toilet.
I kept sipping to please him and because I knew it was the right thing to do. But my mind kept traveling back and forth over everything he’d told me. I kept remembering the blond man who’d led me to him. Had it really been Jeremy Lindstrom’s ghost?
I had no rational explanation for the lack of footprints. He’d been right behind me. There should have been footprints. But why had the thought of Jeremy helping him upset Gage so much?
He seemed almost to blame himself for Jeremy’s death, which made no sense to me. I kind of got the whole guilt thing, but honestly what could he have done? If Jeremy had wanted to kill himself with drugs, he’d do it and nobody could really prevent it. Besides, maybe he’d just misjudged his dose. He’d been mixing drugs. What could Gage have done to stop him from doing that?
I wasn’t trying to be callous toward Jeremy. I just thought Gage was taking on way too much responsibility for his friend’s problems. Unless he provided the drugs or helped Jeremy inject himself, I couldn’t see how he could be at fault.
Maybe there was something about Gage that I didn’t know, something that would explain his sense of guilt.
Chapter 20
Kiss
Nova:
Bathing in water that’s just a degree warmer than a glacier isn’t much fun, but it’s better than going without. At least that’s what I told myself the next afternoon as I dumped a pan of the stuff over my hair. There was a hot water reservoir on the stove, but I’d had to split the water in it between Gage and me, so neither of us got anything warm. Just less icy.
We’d both gone a couple of days without bathing and we were desperate. Being both sick and dirty gets old really fast, and now that I wasn’t vomiting anymore I wanted to be clean.
I toweled off and stuck my dry, clean clothes on as quickly as possible. Then I went to the master bedroom and stuck my head in the doorway. Gage had already taken his bath and was on the bed, his eyes closed. He looked as exhausted as I felt. I needed to leave him alone so we could both get the rest we needed.
“Hey,” I said softly.
His eyes opened. “Hey yourself.”
“I’m going up to the loft to take a nap.”
He patted the mattress next to his body. “Stay here with me so you don’t have to climb the ladder.”
He wanted me in bed with him?
I was probably just a warm body, something comforting while he stayed here. Maybe he was bored. But honestly I didn’t care. This was an opportunity I couldn’t bring myself to pass up, and thank God I’d remembered to brush my teeth first.
“Okay.” I sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress.
Poker face, Nova.
“Come here.” He looped a heavy arm around my waist and drew me down next to him. He sighed against my hair. “You feel good.”
So do you.
“Um ... thanks.”
“I really like you, Nova. I’m trying not to, because I’m not a good guy. You shouldn’t get involved with me.”
He wanted to be involved? With me?
“I think you’re a good guy,” I said, turning around to face him.
Gage was just as overwhelming up close as he was from across the room. Okay, he was twice as overwhelming. It really wasn’t fair to the rest of us mortals that men like him roamed the earth, looking so unbelievably gorgeous while they did it. I mean, talk about an unfair advantage.
He frowned at me. “I’m not. I’ll hurt you, and I don’t want to do that.”
“If you weren’t a good guy, you wouldn’t care if you hurt me,” I said. Eminently logical. That’s me.
“Sometimes I can’t—there are things you don’t know about me. Things I can’t tell you. They’re bad and they could get you hurt.”
He looked so damned serious telling me this. It made me wonder about those not-so-good friends of his. Was he involved with drug dealers or something?
I reached up and touched his face, skimming my fingertips along his cheekbone. “I don’t expect anything from you. We’ve only known each other a few days. There’s no need to get all stressed about this, right?”
The frown deepened. “You don’t expect anything from me?”
His skin felt surprisingly smooth until I let my fingertip wander down to where his beard was starting to come in. “You’re not going to be here long, right? You’re just visiting. After you go, we’ll probably never see each other again. So don’t worry about hurting me.”
“I thought you said you cared about me,” he said with a wry twist of his mouth.
“I do. But that doesn’t mean I think I have some kind of hold on you. I know I don’t.”
I guess I’d expected him to feel relief that I wasn’t making demands on him. I was telling him he could kiss me, maybe do more, and I’d be okay with him leaving. But he didn’t respond at all the way I expected.
“I get the feeling you’re trying to let me down easy,” he said.
“What? No, I’m not. Why would you think that?”
“You’re different. You never do what I expect. And I don’t know how to read you.”
“Like this.” And I leaned up and kissed him.
It was just a soft press of the lips. Not much of a kiss, really. But my pulse raced and my sex pulsed with liquid heat and my mind boggled that I’d had the audacity to kiss someone like him at all.
A big, male hand instantly slipped behind my neck as his mouth opened on mine. He sucked on my lower lip, then my upper, then back to the lower. I nipped him and he moaned and his tongue licked me, asking for entry.
I gave it to him. He tasted like toothpaste and something else, something male that had me pressing my whole body up against him. His leg hooked around one of mine and his arm tightened around my waist.
And suddenly he was kissing me like he needed me in order to breathe.
Every nerve in my body lit up. The hot, wet slide of his tongue, the hard heat of his body against mine, the taste of him, the pressure of his hand on my ass—all of it had me moaning and
undulating against him as my core contracted in yearning. He massaged my ass, making me whimper.
I’d never reacted to Barry this way. Nobody had ever made me light up the way Gage did. Until now, I hadn’t even known it was possible.
His hand slid upward, then beneath my waistband and inside my panties. “Is this all right?” he murmured against my lips.
“Yeah,” I whispered back.
His fingers brushed my damp folds. I cried out at the burst of pleasure.
He drew his finger along first one crease and then another, making me squirm and whimper and moan. Our mouths continued to mate—and that was the only word for what they were doing. We made love with our mouths, our tongues, as he explored my pussy.
I trembled. My hands clutched at him. He pushed a single finger inside my body and my eyes rolled back as I gave another cry. Everything in me desired him, needed him, longed for him. When he bent his finger inside me, I came apart, grinding my pelvis against his hand.
Bursts and flashes of ecstasy bloomed in my core. I couldn’t kiss him anymore. All I could do was shout and groan through my orgasm.
When the explosions died away, I still trembled. Gage rested his forehead against mine. He was breathing heavily.
“Damn, baby,” he said. “That was incredible. You’re incredible.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said, my voice trembling.
He laughed softly. “Oh, yeah, you did.”
I could feel the bulge of his erection pushing against my thigh and I reached down between us to cup him. “Let me take care of you now.”
He groaned, pulling his hips away. “No. Not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“It just isn’t. For all the reasons I already told you.”
“But that’s not fair to you.”
“It’s fair, believe me.” He pressed a finger to my lower lip. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known. But this can’t go any further.”
Earlier, he’d said I was trying to let him down easy, but it seemed to me that he was the one doing the rejecting. Except he’d just had his hand down my panties, so maybe not. This terrible secret of his really sucked.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he said. “We’re both still pretty sick.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep after that,” I said. I wanted to climb on top of him and have my wicked way with him.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could give you more.” He really did sound regretful.
I fought back a sigh and tried to be cool about it. “It’s all right. I understand.”
Except I didn’t. Not at all.
Chapter 21
Hot
Gage:
Nova fell asleep almost instantly. I lay next to her, propped up on my elbow and aching with unrequited lust, and watched her for a while. This stomach bug was kicking our butts, and she still looked sick despite her bath.
But she was so damn beautiful—pale, elfin face, thick black lashes, perfectly shaped lips.
It felt surreal, lying in bed with this gorgeous woman and not doing anything sexual with her. I still had the scent of her pussy all over my hand, but at the moment we weren’t fooling around. She was sleeping, for chrissake.
I never slept with women. Never let them sleep with me.
What was I doing here? I was going to get her in trouble. I should haul my ass off the bed and go sleep on the couch, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I brushed a long strand of dark hair off her face. She smiled in her sleep, and turned to snuggle into me. Damn. My arm slipped around her as a whole new feeling of warmth flooded my chest.
I was falling for her. And that was just all kinds of wrong, as a character I’d once played would have said.
Since we were stuck here and I was almost as wiped out as she was, I closed my eyes and settled in for a nap. Yet I knew I couldn’t let this thing between us continue. For her sake, I had to put some walls between us.
***
When I woke up, something felt wrong. Nova still slept beside me, so it wasn’t that. There was something in the air…
No, there was a lack of something in the air. It was freezing cold outside the nest of blankets and bodies we’d made. I could feel it biting at my cheeks and nose.
Shit. Nova must have forgotten to put wood in the stove and the fire must have gone out. Somebody had to get it going again, and that somebody was me. There was no way I was going to wake Nova up when she was sleeping so well.
I slid out of bed. She didn’t even move a finger.
In the kitchen, I found a single piece of firewood next to the stove. When I opened the firebox, I found nothing but a big pile of fluffy, gray ash. Great. City boy was going to have to figure out how to light a fire in that thing.
I could do this. But first I had to get some snow-worthy clothes so I could haul in more firewood.
Sneaking back into the bedroom, I rummaged through the closet and dresser as quietly as I could to see if I could turn up any more men’s clothing. I found nothing but more ancient T-shirts and sweatpants. Her dad seemed to have a love affair with the things.
I ended up with three layers of T-shirt and two pairs of sweatpants. Hey, it was cold out there and I didn’t have a coat. Nova had cut my red jacket into pieces getting it off me.
At least my shoes were whole and dry.
Outside, the snow still fell. It seemed to be coming down a little slower, but not by much. I tried to push the back door open and found it blocked by a foot of the stuff. I grabbed the shovel she had propped next to the door. I’d have to dig my way out.
The good thing about digging is it heats up your body and makes the cold easier to tolerate. The bad part—at least for me—was I had no idea where I was supposed to go. Where was her woodpile?
I stood in the narrow lane I’d created from her door down her back steps, my arms cold and wet from melting snowflakes, and scanned the yard. There was a long, narrow lump on the other side that could be the right spot, so I aimed for that and started digging.
It seemed like hours before I had a clear path and could start hauling the wood. My fingers were starting to go numb and I was exhausted. The damned stomach flu was still ruling me, but I wasn’t going to let it win. We had to stay warm or we could both die.
Finally I had what I thought was enough wood in the house. It took up a giant chunk of the kitchen floor and I surveyed it with satisfaction. That ought to do for now.
I chose a few pieces off the top and stuck them in the firebox, then lit a match and threw it in too. The match fizzled and went out without making so much as a scorch mark on the wood.
I sighed, feeling like an idiot. I’d never done any of this outdoor stuff. As a kid, I’d been too busy making movies and none of them had been about survival in a snowstorm. I’d been too busy and too famous to do anything normal like join Boy Scouts. How the fuck did you start a fire, anyway?
Then I remembered you were supposed to start with tinder or something like that. Something small and easy to burn.
Scanning the room again, I noticed a sizable pile of old newspapers in a box along the wall near the stove. I almost face-palmed. How could I have missed that? I grabbed a handful of the stuff and started wadding up the pages.
It turns out you need a lot of tinder to start a fire with wet wood ... and a lot more tinder to keep it going. I ended up having to set some pieces on the stove top to dry them out before they’d burn.
“Um ... what are you doing?” Nova said.
I spun around to see her standing in the doorway, a quizzical smile on her face.
“I got some wood.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Her smile deepened. “Looks like enough for at least a week.”
It was good to see her smiling like that. Our session in the bedroom hadn’t made her afraid of me or embarrassed as far as I could tell.
“It was cold in here,” I said. “And the fire had died.”
“You got it going a
gain?”
I gave her a mock-stern glare. “I don’t like your tone of surprise. I’ll have you know I’ve got mad backwoods skillz.”
She laughed. “Okay. Well, thanks for getting in all that wood. It’s a really impressive pile. Did you leave any outside?”
“I’m just not appreciated around here.” I shook my head regretfully.
Nova came over, pressed her front to me, and stuck her hands in my sweatpants pockets. “I appreciate you more than you know,” she purred.
Instant hard-on. She had no idea how she affected me ... although the bulge in my pants might have given her a clue. I growled and grabbed her ass, bending my head down for a kiss.
And then I ruined everything by swaying on my feet as my vision went black around the edges.
“Gage? Are you okay?” Nova sounded scared. “Oh my God, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said thinly as I fought for balance. “But I may have overdone it slightly.”
“Go lay down on the couch.”
“Nah, I’ll be all right.”
“Lay down.” Now she sounded like the Dr. Pennyman I remembered from my first encounter with her.
“You’re sicker than I am,” I said.
“I didn’t shovel snow and haul firewood. Go lay down. I’ll bring you some tea in a few minutes.” She punctuated her sentence with a light shove to my chest.
“I’m not letting you wait on me when you’re sick.” I closed my eyes to stop the spinning the room was doing.
“I won’t collapse from making tea. Go on. Lay down or I’ll pitch a fit like you’ve never seen.”
I opened my eyes a slit and peered down at her. She was frowning at me. Was she really worried about me?
“Okay,” I said grudgingly. “I’ll go. But you take it easy.” I let go of her ass.
“Go before you fall down. If you fall, I won’t be able to pick you up.”
She had a point there. I shuffled into the living room and sank onto the couch. I hated being sick, hated showing weakness, and hated depending on someone who should have been able to depend on me instead. But Nova was right. If I fell down and couldn’t get back up, I’d be stuck on the floor because she sure as hell couldn’t carry me. And I wouldn’t do that to her.