First time you’ve been alone in here since it happened.
When she swallowed, she tasted bile.
“Shower,” she coached herself, forcing her body away from the door and the lingering warmth of Gage’s presence.
She’d shower, and then she’d get the hell out of here. “Twenty minutes, tops,” she promised herself, “and then you’re gone.”
She was out the door fifteen minutes later, not even completely aware of what she was wearing, only that her hair was dripping about a gallon of water all over it. The air was balmy and the sun was out, yet Cassidy’s teeth chattered all the way to the car and then all the way to work.
She walked to her cubicle, managing to trip only twice on her unsteady feet. Dumping her satchel on her desk, she veered sharply toward the break room, looking for her second cup of coffee.
As she poured herself some caffeine, she barely noticed David and Chris in the corner talking until one of them snorted.
“Damn, Hastings, did your hair dryer break?”
Cassidy set her mug down on the counter with a hard clink. Whipping around, she sent droplets from her hair soaring across the room.
“Shit,” David murmured staring down into his coffee mug. As he leaned over to dump it in the sink with a frown, Chris wiped what had to be drops from her hair from his cheek.
Cassidy glared at them, and it must have been an impressive glare, because when David looked up from dumping out his hair-water coffee, he blinked and took a step back, bumping into the refrigerator.
“What did you say to me?” She was proud of how calm her voice was. Truly. Especially since it was a 50-50 shot that she was going to fly across the room and punch one or both of them in the eye. “Do you make comments on your other co-workers’ hair?”
David’s eyes grew wary. “Are you PMSing or something?”
Her lips parted.
“Do you want to die?” Chris hissed. He grabbed David by the arm and pulled him toward the exit.
Cassidy forced her fists to relax, realizing with the sting of pain that she’d dug her blunt nails into each of her palms.
Chris gave David a quick push out into the hallway, closing the door partway on David’s face, which managed to still look as though he couldn’t figure out what he’d said wrong. Chris leaned back against the door. “Cassidy, he was out of line.” Chris paused for a moment before adding, “If you want me to go with you to Callahan’s office, I can vouch for whatever you say, just—”
Cassidy held out a hand, stopping his flow of words. “Not necessary.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable.
Chris closed the door completely behind him, shutting out the small noise of the office. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked in a whisper.
Her eyes started to sting, and Chris’s widened. He took a step toward her, but again, Cassidy held out her hand, and he stopped. “I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “Just a tough night.”
Disappointment flashed in Chris’s eyes. “Well, if you ever need a friend to talk to—”
Cassidy nodded her head. “Mmm hmm.” Friend? Gage was her only friend.
Holy fuck. Where had that thought come from? Her already stinging eyes widened, putting the possibility of tears spilling over her lower lids into the probability range. “I appreciate it,” she forced through tight lips. Go away. Now. Before you see me crack.
Chris hesitated, seeming to mull over saying something else, and she gritted her teeth, pulling on all her strength reserves. Finally, he sighed. “Well, then. I guess I’ll see you around.”
When she said nothing, he turned and left the break room, leaving the door open.
Cassidy spun and braced her hands on the countertop, letting her head hang down. “Get it together,” she muttered through her teeth. Her arms were trembling, but through sheer force of will, she was able to tamp down her body’s reaction to . . . whatever the fuck was going on with her.
When she was no longer in immediate danger of crying, she shoved her wet hair from her face, grabbed her coffee, and made her way back to her desk, doing her best to hold her head high. She really did have a lot to do today. She needed to go back over whatever she’d written last night. She vaguely remembered writing the ending to the game’s narrative, but she honestly didn’t remember what it entailed. Just that she’d been excited about it.
And I sketched Gage as my character. She winced, nearly tripping mid-stride.
Reaching her desk, she flopped down into her chair. She eased her laptop from her satchel and fired it up, taking a sip of scalding coffee.
When the file opened seconds later, she settled in and began reading, quickly becoming absorbed in what, if she could say so herself, was a truly excellent story.
A frown creased her brow as she neared the end. “What the—” she muttered, leaning toward the laptop to get a better look. “No, I wouldn’t write that.”
She re-read the paragraph.
With a sigh, she slowly leaned back into her chair and closed her eyes. “Oh, God.” In a second, everything became clear. Feeling out of control. Being on the verge of tears every second. Bringing up weird, personal parts of her past. Hearing the word use leave Gage’s lips and being unable to shake it.
Last night, in a trauma-fueled haze, Cassidy had written a romantic twist to her story: her main character confessed she had feelings for the gigolo.
The gigolo Cassidy had sketched from Gage’s likeness last night.
“Holy shit,” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.
I like Gage.
Her eyes popped open. “Oh, no.” This was bad. Really bad.
She didn’t do relationships. She didn’t do . . . love. But even worse than all that . . .
That someone could use me. Those words had left Gage’s lips this morning. Okay, not those exact words, but—
She was using him! There was no getting around that. Back when Mr. Callahan hadn’t been practically drooling over her laptop every day, she’d convinced herself Gage wouldn’t care. That she wasn’t hurting anyone by borrowing pieces of his life and turning it into inspiration for a video game. And, honestly, at the time, it had probably been true.
There was no denying that things were different now. Somewhere along the line, they’d actually started to like each other. As people. As friends.
As more than friends.
Cassidy pressed her fingertips against her brow, trying to pulverize that thought down to dust. No, not as more than friends. She wouldn’t allow that. Ever.
But one thing was certain. Gage was going to have strong feelings about what she was doing with his life experiences if he ever found out about it.
And there is no way in hell he’s going to be okay with it.
Chapter Fifteen
“Shit.” Gage stared down at his naked dick.
His naked, flaccid dick.
“Shit!”
He darted a quick glance at the door and held very still. When there was no indication from the other side that his client had heard him freaking the hell out, his shoulders relaxed the slightest bit.
But then he stared down at his dick again, and they tightened the hell up again double quick.
God damn it, this was bad. This was really bad.
Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he gave himself a stroke. When that didn’t work, he did it again, harder.
The bite of pain didn’t even get a retaliatory reaction.
Like you can pop an angry boner. That’s not a thing, you idiot!
He released himself and pressed his fists into the countertop of the bathroom vanity. He’d never once, in his entire life, had trouble performing, and he couldn’t believe that he was starting to now.
Something had to be up. Or down, as matters would have it. He cast his dick another scathing glance, sighed, and settled down on the closed toilet lid.
He was too young for this. Wasn’t he? Anything could be possible, but a sudden onset of erectile dysfunction?
H
e shuddered at the very thought of it.
“No, no, no,” he whispered. “You can do this. Just . . . focus!”
He straightened, closed his eyes, and pulled in a deep, slow breath.
Okay, now . . . think sexy thoughts.
He rested his palms on his spread knees, and started to imagine the most beautiful, erotic woman he could.
Big, mouthwatering breasts. Thick, dark hair. Perfect skin. Drenching wet between her thighs as she starts to play with herself.
He bit his bottom lip and peeked down at his lap.
He huffed. Nothing. Not even a twitch.
“Come on, man. You gotta do your part, here. We’ve got a lady right outside that door, waiting for you to spring into action, so . . . do it.”
Okay, he’d try again. Closing his eyes, he started the same process.
Big, mouthwatering breasts . . .
Instead, his mind brought to the forefront Cassidy’s perfect, handful-sized tits with the scattering of freckles all over them.
Unbidden, a smile began to spread his lips. God, he loved her tiny breasts. The way they bounced when she rode his dick that hard way she was inclined to do, her breath hitching every time she landed on his hipbones with that perfect ass of hers.
And then there were the times they’d play video games together, and he’d look over at her when one of the videos would interrupt the gameplay. The light from the TV would flicker against her crazy hair, and she’d be rapt, staring wide-eyed at the screen, her eyes tracing the captions as quickly as they could.
Whenever they beat a game together, she’d toss her controller to the ground, race over to his seat, and cram her tongue down his throat while he tried his hardest to get inside her as quickly as he could.
He froze. Opening his eyes again, he glanced down between his thighs.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
There it was: the granddaddy of all erections, all raring to go.
“Well, crap.”
This was awkward. He couldn’t go out there with this! A woody he’d only gotten from thinking about Cassidy. He shouldn’t use it on someone else. Right? If there were a written protocol for situations like this, surely that rule would be near the top.
Ugh. He didn’t do awkward. Not ever.
“This is a hell of a day.”
Time to bail. Leaning forward, he searched through his discarded clothes until he found his cell. Muttering curses beneath his breath the entire time, he punched in the only number he’d ever bothered to memorize.
Ryker picked up on the first ring. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
Gage couldn’t believe he was doing this. That he had to do this. “I need a favor.”
“You know it’s a yes.” There was a pause on the other end. “Hey, are you okay? You sound off.”
I am off. He shoved the thought aside. “Is there any chance you’re close to the Strip right now?”
“I’m always close to the Strip.”
Gage took a deep breath and held it for a moment.
Last second to figure out an alternative. He nearly snorted. Like he ever took the time to figure out alternatives.
Quickest way out it was.
“I need you to take my client.”
There was silence on the other end.
Gage pulled his phone away from his ear for a quick glance to prove—yep—the call was still connected. “Ryker?”
“I’m here. Yeah, it’s no problem. When should I meet her?”
Gage rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. “Well . . . now?”
Another beat of silence. “You’re in a hotel room with her, aren’t you?”
“Technically, I’m in the bathroom—”
“Gage, what’s going on?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck if I know.”
Ryker sighed into the phone. “Look, I’ll be there in five to ten, just text me the address. But when I’m done, we’re talking. Big time. Meet me at the Classic Muscle?”
They’d started frequenting the restaurant devoted to muscle cars when the Harley Davidson Café on the Strip closed down—a fucking tragedy that. Almost as much of a tragedy as “talking.” But—
“I owe you one, so, yeah.” Ryker was the only person he would ever make that allowance for.
Ryker hung up without another word. Gage immediately texted him the location of the hotel and the room number, then began pulling on his clothes one wooden limb at a time. He’d probably have to go out there and actually say something to his client before just blazing out the door. He had a professional reputation to maintain.
Damn, this was one hell of a day.
He checked himself in the mirror, shoved a hand through his hair, and opened the door.
His client, a pretty but obviously shy woman in her thirties, sat primly on the edge of the bed, her eyes wary. “Is,” she audibly swallowed, “everything okay?”
Find the fastest, easiest way out of this.
Gage cocked his crooked grin. “Yeah, baby.” He looked her over. Her brown hair was pulled back into a severe bun. Black, thick-framed glasses perched on the end of her nose. Hell, Ryker was going to love her. He had a thing for librarian types. As Gage took her in, however, the erection he’d been sporting when he left the bathroom died a quick death.
He cleared his throat. “Just an emergency, actually.”
Her shoulders drooped. “An emergency?”
“But,” he said quickly, “I’ve got you covered.”
At just that moment, there was a knock at the door. Yes! Approximately two seconds to bail time. “Ah, here he is now.”
The librarian shot to her feet. “You called someone else?” she squeaked.
Gage opened the door, and Ryker walked in. The librarian’s protest abruptly ceased. Ryker always had this effect on women. Gage 100 percent liked females; that didn’t mean he couldn’t recognize Ryker was possibly the most handsome man Gage had ever encountered. Ryker was Chicano, with soulful brown eyes and curly black hair, which he kept closely cropped on the sides but arranged in perfect spirals on the top. With a slim but obviously fit build, he looked like he’d walked off the pages of a magazine. Ryker was no more his real first name than Gage was Gage’s, but the Martinez part was true.
Gage gestured toward his best friend in the entire world. “This is Ryker Martinez. Ryker—” Gage turned toward the librarian. “This is—”
Ah, fucking hell’s fire. He didn’t remember her name.
“Ethel,” she supplied, tripping forward a couple of steps and extending her hand.
Ryker slid into place, wrapping her small hand within his big one and raising it to his lips. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, Gage watched Ethel blush while Ryker kissed the back of her hand. His buddy was good.
“I couldn’t be more thrilled to be here,” Ryker crooned, traces of his accent making an appearance now that he was in character. In all other circumstances, Ryker’s accent ghosted.
“Yes, well,” Ethel said, smoothing her free hand over her bun.
“I’ll just leave you two to it,” Gage said, backing toward the still-open door. Neither of them paid attention to him.
He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him, releasing a breath.
Free. Thank God.
Glancing down at his phone, he saw it was only two hours until Cassidy would be off work. A lightness filled his chest, and he automatically pulled up a text, asking her to meet him at Classic Muscle, too. With any luck, she’d show up early and save him from having to talk to Ryker.
Besides, he couldn’t wait for Ryker to meet her.
Gage’s head snapped back. Whoa.
His phone buzzed in his hand. A one-word response from Cassidy: Okay.
Gage frowned. That was weird. Usually, Cassidy’s texts were pages long, half of which were filled with creative profanity.
The lightness he was feeling took a hit. Her suffering was a one-two punch to the gut.
/> He heard a giggle from the room behind him. It was more than time to bail.
Out on the street, he pulled in a deep breath of fresh air. The café was a quick ride away, and the hum of his Harley between his legs was just the thing to help him shake the uneasiness he’d felt in the hotel room.
He parked his bike with the long line of others in the garage behind the café, then made his way inside, shedding his leather jacket as he slid into a booth.
He looked over the menu even though he had it memorized. As always, he wished he could order the brisket sandwich. That would make a cheat day to end all cheat days. Instead, he ordered a light beer, a cheat in and of itself, and a salad.
He picked at his food halfheartedly, not really feeling hungry, as he waited the hour it would take Ryker to finish with the client and meet him here. Eventually, he gave up on the salad and switched over to reading Cassidy’s past texts as he sipped his beer. The woman couldn’t write out an entire word to save her life. Her text speak ranged from normal—b4 for before—to absurd—:[ for vampire. That particular one had puzzled him for nearly thirty minutes. It hadn’t been until she’d sent a ;[—horny vampire, of course—that he’d figured it out. He caught himself grinning like an idiot, and, after casting a quick glance around the café to see if anyone noticed, he forced himself to stop acting crazy.
“You look ridiculous,” Ryker said, sliding into the bench seat opposite him.
Gage jumped and pounded his thumb against the power button of his phone, turning the screen black.
“Yeah, that wasn’t conspicuous.” Ryker hiked an eyebrow and reached for a menu.
Gage felt the back of his neck heat. Time to deflect. “So, how was . . . the librarian?” Shit, he’d already forgotten her name again.
“Trying to change the subject?” Ryker asked without looking up from his menu.
“Yes, damn it, and a friend would roll with it.”
“Hmm.” Ryker closed his menu with a snap. “I’m not sure a friend would, but I’ll allow it.” He pinned Gage with a pointed stare. “Momentarily.”
Gage swallowed hard.
Ryker narrowed his eyes.
The silence between them turned awkward and thick. “This is allowing it?” Gage asked through a tight throat.
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