I draw back a few inches to look up in his face. "Anyway. Wanna show me your bedroom?"
There's a pause, like he's contemplating pushing me to talk about my brother, and I hold my breath because I don't want to and I don't know what I'll do if he presses, but then he nods, the look in his eyes sharpening. "Obviously."
His room is a crisp mixture of tans and whites and blacks, and it's neater than the rest of the house. His bed is made, though haphazardly enough to make me wonder if he did it after he knew I was coming over; it's low to the ground on a dark wooden frame and covered with a thick ivory comforter and gray striped pillows. There are framed posters on his walls—some of my favorite bands. And pictures in frames sit along most of his furniture. Mostly of his family. I wonder what they're like. Clearly, he loves them. I have no doubt it's easily reciprocated.
Two guitars hang from a rack on his wall and another one, presumably, is closed in a case leaning in the corner. On top of a small cabinet near the hanging guitars rest a few clean (looking) cloths, guitar polish—which may be the reason there's a faint lemony aroma lingering in the air—extra strings, and a small dish with a smattering of picks. I imagine Gage, holding a guitar, as gently as he does, polishing the body. Buffing the wood with one of those rags, his fingers circling with the perfect pressure I know from experience he can apply.
Picturing him cleaning a guitar should not turn me on.
But it does.
"I looked for you, after your shift," he says.
"I'm sorry I missed you." I can't look at him. I can't breathe. I feel like I need to sit down.
"How was the concert?"
"Okay." I shrug, still not meeting his eyes. I can tell there's more he wants to say, more he wants to ask, but I turn from him and walk around his room instead, trailing a finger along the top of his bookshelves and then dresser and stopping in front of another picture.
"Your mom is beautiful," I say, not having to ask if it's her or not. She looks like Gage, only prettier with high cheekbones and long brown hair. Warm, light brown eyes. The same straight nose. The same sensitive mouth.
"She is," he agrees, then reaches out to spin me toward him. "So are you."
Pleasure sweeps through me.
Desire, too, thickens under my skin.
Guilt laces around me in barbed-wire chains.
"Gage." There are so many words building up inside of me. So many things I want to say to him. That he's beautiful, too. And the way I feel with him… Well, I'm not sure I actually can put it into words. Overwhelmed. Happy. But it's all tainted now. "I…"
He knocks back more of his beer, his eyes never leaving mine, and leaves the bottle on his dresser. "You…"
I can't do this.
I step away, forcing my gaze not to drop from his. "Gage." I grip my stomach. I think I might be sick. But I have to say it. "I kissed someone tonight."
CHAPTER THIRTY
Gage's expression goes carefully blank—but not before I see the flash of pain across his features, not before I register the shock in his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I didn't meant for it to happen—or…maybe I did…" God. Shut up already. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't want to—"
His eyes narrow. "You don't want to what?"
A second passes. Then another.
"I don't want to hurt you." It's the truth. I don't want to hurt me, either, but I'm standing here wounding us both.
We stare at each other. A clock hanging on his wall ticks softly, rhythmically, in the space between us.
This is horrible. I shouldn't have told him.
Finally, he points toward his bedroom door. "There's the door if you're looking for a way out."
"You want me to leave?" I don't know why this shocks me, crumbles me. Of course he wants me to leave. I kissed someone else.
His eyes flash again, with anger this time. "Sounds like it's what you want."
"No."
"No?"
"No. I don't want to leave." God, I'm such an asshole. I'm such a wreck.
"What the hell do you want me to say then?" He should be turning away from me. He should be throwing me out.
But he's not. Yet.
"I just…I think honesty's important."
Disbelief stamps itself across his face. "You, the girl who refuses to talk about anything that actually means something?"
"That's not fair." But it is. He deserves so much more than this. I should leave. I should walk out the door he's no longer pointing to.
I can't.
"You think I don't feel you pulling away all the fucking time?" His hands are clenched at his sides. "You think I don't get it, Cassidy?"
"Why aren't you telling me to leave? Tell me to leave." I'm almost begging. If he pushes me out, I'll go, but I don't have the willpower to do it on my own.
"Why aren't you walking away?" he counters.
"I can't." The words shake as they leave my mouth.
"Neither can I."
"I don't…I don't know what to do," I admit, wanting so badly to drop my eyes, but I'm trapped in the intensity of his stare. In the intensity of the relief under my skin that he's not telling me to leave. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not a fan of jealousy, Cassidy, but fuck, I don't want to share you." A muscle in his jaw clenches, before he continues. "Who was it?"
I open my mouth, dreading the name I have to say, but he shakes his head and speaks before I can. "Actually, don't tell me. I don't want to know."
"I'm sorry," I repeat, not sure what else to say—but beyond thankful I don't have to tell him it was Luca. Then I give him something honest that finally doesn't make me want to rip my own heart out. "There's nowhere else I want to be right now."
"Okay."
I wait for him to go on, but he just stares at me, letting the silence stretch until I can't take it. "Gage. I don't think I can give you what you want, but I don't want to leave."
"I don't know if that's enough for me." Now it's his truth that nearly undoes me.
"Can we just try, for tonight?" My words come out shaky again, and when he doesn't answer, I'm afraid I might have to beg.
I need his arms around me. I need his mouth on mine.
I cross the distance between us, and I kiss him. Forceful, and urgent, I use my lips to beg him to let me stay.
And after a moment of hesitation, he uses his hands to tell me I can.
He shoves them under the front of my shirt, dragging them up along my ribs, cupping my breasts with a less-than-gentle hold that I immediately push myself harder into. He's very angry. And I'm very turned on.
He pulls back to watch my face—and sends his hands lower, dipping below the waist of my jeans. He unhooks the button with a tug rough enough to make my breath catch and then shoves them over my hips, past my knees, to the floor. I trace my lips along his jaw and down his neck, taking in the clean, minty scent lingering there. It invigorates my senses, makes me feel alive. Excited. Reckless. I'm not leaving.
He wants me here.
I want to be here.
And, right now, that's all I need to know.
I tear my shirt over my head, and then his, too. I push him toward his bed, and when he falls back against it, he drags me with him and twists us so that I'm the one who lands on the covers. Hard enough that a bit of the wind is knocked from my lungs and he gives me no quarter to catch it again, taking my mouth captive, gnawing at my lower lip, thrusting his tongue against mine.
Angry Gage is rough.
Angry Gage makes me freaking hot.
His mouth storms down my body, biting, licking, snapping at my stomach in the most electrifying way. My skin sizzles every place he touches me, until I'm desperate for him. My hips are rocking, bucking, by the time his tongue's trailing across the waistline of my panties.
But he stops, resting his chin on my abdomen, looking at me. "Push up on your elbows."
My toes are curling, my breath quaking, and it's hard for me to move at all with the way I'm wanting him. But I
do as he demands.
"I want you to watch." He lifts himself over me and drags my panties down, over my thighs, shoving them past my knees. "I'm going to show you, sweetheart, what you'll miss if you walk away." He licks a long, slow line across the crease where my thigh meets my hip, his eyes never leaving my face. "Do you understand?"
I can barely make out his words right now—much less derive any meaning from them. I'm too alive, too overpowered by the wild energy he's rousing under my skin. But I nod because I know it's what he's waiting for.
"Good girl." He slides his hands under my knees and lifts them over his shoulders.
Pausing, just there.
And I can’t catch my breath, can’t look away, can’t stop the flood of nerves tingling so hard between my thighs it's almost painful. I’m so exposed and his mouth is so close I can feel the disturbance in the air between us, his breath as it hits my skin. My hips are rolling slightly this way and that, toward him and away, craving.
And then he buries his face in me.
He uses his tongue to punish me and I've never wanted to be so bad if this is the sort of torture I get in reward.
He drags his mouth away for the briefest of seconds, lifting his eyes to my face, making sure I'm still watching. "Jesus, Cassidy." His breath washes over my tender skin, and I tremble so hard my own breath shakes. "You taste like honey. I could eat you for hours."
Oh my God, I would let him. But it takes so much less time than that before he does exactly what he's set out to do, and I lose myself against his mouth. Gasping, moaning, yanking at his sheets when I come.
After, I'm breathless and throbbing, and I could lay here for hours, enjoying the sensations shooting through me. But again, he gives me no clemency, instead sliding back up my body and taking my mouth with his own. I taste myself on his tongue, and when he pulls back I see in his eyes that he wanted me to. That it turns him on.
It turns me on, too.
He's rock solid, pressing against me through the thin fabric of his pajamas. He twists away to grab a condom from his nightstand. I jerk his pants down over his hips, and this time I'm the one who slides the rubber on, slowly, wickedly, watching his control unravel.
"Take me however you want me," I whisper, hoping he'll continue this perfect punishment on my body.
He grabs my wrists, holding them above my head. He pauses, his mouth at my ear. "It will be my name," he growls, "in your mouth." He bites my earlobe, hard enough that it stings. Hard enough to send a shiver racing through me. "In your mind." He shoves his leg between my thighs, spreading them farther apart and then positioning himself there, touching but not entering. "In your heart."
"Please, Gage." I can't ever seem to stop myself from pleading with him, but I might die if he doesn't take me this instant. My body is trembling everywhere, everywhere. How he manages to build me up this fast all over again, I may never know, but he does. I'm ready. Craving. Needing.
He drives into me, hitting the places where I still quiver from his last delicious assault. When I tighten around him, he starts to lose it as fast as I already have, and I grin at the strain in his expression.
And then there's no mercy and he makes everything he's just promised come true.
His name is in my mouth, and in my mind, and in my heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I wake up on the edge of Gage's bed feeling bruised and used and utterly, completely sated.
And, okay, still guilty. But it's easier to shove that feeling aside to focus on the others. Last night was intense. It was perfect. I lost my mind, lost control, lost sense of everything except the sensations Gage sent racing through me.
"Good morning." I roll over to snuggle into him, but I'm alone.
Stretching, I stand and let the covers fall away from me. The scent of coffee wafts through the closed bedroom door. Perfect way to start the morning. He's making us coffee. Maybe…maybe last night something changed. Maybe we understand better now the way things are between us.
Maybe that's just wishful thinking.
But maybe I'm going with it anyway.
I glance at my outfit from yesterday, discarded and crumpled on the floor, but his roommate's out of town and I decide to be ballsy and search for him without bothering to slip into anything at all. It's not like he hasn't explored almost every inch of my body with his eyes—and his tongue. And the way he made me watch last night… Jesus, that was hot.
And now I'm turned on all over again.
Gage's room opens into a hallway, which leads toward the main living area. My stomach rumbles and I press a hand against it to quiet the noise. I'm going for sexy here. Get a grip, stomach.
"Hey, baby," I say from around the corner—immediately cringing. I've never called him that. I'm not really sure it's appropriate with the way things stand. But oh, well. Too late now. Gonna have to go with it. So I square my shoulders, take a deep breath. My lips curve into as seductive a smile as I can manage, and I step around the corner.
And come face-to-face with Gage's fifteen-year-old sister.
…
…
…
It's a total deer-in-headlights situation.
She sits there, frozen, with a cup of coffee halfway to her mouth.
I cover myself the best I can. And also? I want to die. Immediately. But I can't seem to move. I can't even think. Shock's turned my muscles to stone.
…
…
…
The corner of her mouth pulls a little wider to the side and a giggle slips out. The sound frees me and with one final panicked glance at the amusement across her face, I flee back to Gage's room.
Oh, God.
There are no words. None.
Mortification makes a punching bag of me, and I fling myself face-first into Gage's bed. Is it possible to smother yourself with pillows? Because I'm tempted to try. I'm so, unbelievably tempted.
A minute later, though, I put on my wrinkled clothing from last night and pull on my big girl pants. Katy's probably even more mortified than I am. I'm the adult here. Kind of, at least. I should go back out and introduce myself.
First, though, I have to figure out how to cool the flames under the skin of my face.
Five agonizing minutes later, I realize there's nothing I can do about them. I force myself out the door and back down the hall and toward the kitchen. I stop before rounding the corner for one last moment to cringe. Okay. I can do this.
I mean…if I could tell Gage about the kiss last night, this should be a breeze, right?
Great. There's the guilt again. On top of all the embarrassment.
I'm a freaking mess.
Guess there's no time like the present to deal with it all. I step around the corner.
Katy's still sitting at the table, cup of coffee in front of her. She meets my eyes and her face, I see, is not red at all. In fact, she looks like she's trying not to laugh, and barely covers it with a derisive little smile. "That must have really been embarrassing for you."
"Uh…" This was not how I expected her to react. "I won't lie, kid. It wasn't the most comfortable moment of my life."
"I'm not a kid." She shoves her messy brown hair into a messier ponytail. She looks cute—and somehow grown-up at the same time.
"No, you're Katy." I smile at her, but feel my lips droop when she stares disinterestedly back at me. "I'm Cassidy… Your brother's spoken highly of you."
"Of course he has." She takes a sip of coffee and can't quite hide the bitter pucker of her mouth.
It's my turn to bite back a laugh, but I try to do it more kindly than she did. "Did you try adding cream and sugar?"
"I drink it black." She huffs, clearly insulted that I'd assume anything else.
"I see." I'm actually pretty sure this is her first ever cup of coffee. I pour a cup for myself, after finding a worn old mug in one of Gage's cabinets. Then I search for sugar and add some milk. I close my eyes and exaggerate how much I enjoy the first sip. "God, this is
so good."
"Is that what you told my brother last night?"
I almost spit out my drink. "Excuse me?"
"Come on. You walked out here buck naked." The snark in her tone rivals the very best Teagan's ever had to offer. "I'm not an idiot."
"I don't think you are." I slide a chair out and slink into it, but I'm not ready to admit defeat. "Did you have fun with your friends?"
She rolls her eyes. "My friends are awesome."
"I bet." Especially if they're as awesome as you. "Listen —"
I'm interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and Katy doesn't even bother to whisper when she says, "Thank God."
"Yep." I agree one hundred percent. Really, I'm sure this could've gone worse. I just can't think of how.
When Gage turns into the kitchen, a brown paper bag in one hand, it's all I can do not to dart past him and escape to the outside.
"Hey, girls," he says, with a tentative smile. "I see you've met."
"You could say that." Katy snorts. "I've gotten to know your girlfriend pretty intimately."
"I'm not his—I mean—" I press my lips shut. There's nothing I can say here to make this any better. All I can do is shake my head. Brought to heel by a fifteen-year-old. This day's off to a great start.
"Um." He glances back and forth between us. "I brought Everything bagels?" And it's so cute, the confusion in his tone, that I laugh, and even Katy snickers. The tension in the room lets up a little.
Gage slices the bagels and spreads cream cheese on a few halves, offering them to each of us.
"Thanks for these," I say, after a few bites, keeping my lips closed around my teeth which are probably filled with cream cheese. And to think I started the morning off attempting to be sexy.
"I thought you could use the sustenance," he says, a smug little smirk crossing his features. "After all the energy we used…" He trails off, his eyes darting to Katy, and my face heats all over again.
"Are you going to tell on me or not?" Katy asks, either oblivious to what his words imply or simply not caring.
Gage sighs. "All I care about is that you're safe. I already covered for you." She visibly relaxes, but he continues, "Don't pull that shit again. Especially without asking me first. What if something had happened to you?"
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