Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“If I wanted it to be slow,” I say with a cocked eyebrow, “I would’ve never let you put your hand down my pants.”
Gage grins, knowing I’m teasing.
“I appreciate everything about what you just said,” I continue. “Yes, I probably did need it a bit slow at first. You’re the first man who’s kissed me since…”
My words trail off, and I think Gage takes it that I’m hesitant to bring the fire into this because he opens his mouth. I quickly raise a hand, putting my finger against his lips. “No, that’s not quite right. It’s got nothing to do with you being the first man I’ve kissed. It’s that you’re the first man who’s made me feel this way.”
“And how is that?” he asks, dislodging my finger.
“Exhilarated. Scared. Needy. Hopeful. Dozens of other feelings on top of that. I’ve never felt this much, and while it can be daunting, it also represents… hope.”
“Christ,” he mutters, and I think I’ve offended him, but instead he pulls me into a hard hug. “It’s humbling to know I cause all that.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, turn my head so my ear rests against his heart, and listen to the steady beat.
It’s one of the things that attracts me to him the most—how steady and strong he is. It makes me wonder what my life might’ve been like had Paul been this type of man after the fire.
Of course, I’m glad he wasn’t. Because then I would’ve never met Gage.
I pull away slightly and tip my head back. “You said you want me to stay the night.”
“It’s what I want,” he says, bringing his hand to the side of my neck and caressing my cheekbone with his thumb. “But only if you want to. Only if you’re ready. And I don’t care what we do or don’t do. We can just go to sleep and cuddle all night. Or you can let me make you feel good. Or…” Gage bends down, brushes his lips across my mouth as he growls low, “You can let me have you.”
My knees almost buckle, so I grip onto his shirt. My voice quavers with pent-up desire. “Last option. I choose the last option.”
“Thank fuck,” he mutters and then kisses me hard.
I groan as his tongue invades my mouth, my arms winding around his neck. He lifts me, and my legs wrap around his waist.
Gage spins and moves me through his house, but I don’t watch where we’re going. I concentrate on kissing him.
Next thing I know, I’m being lowered onto a bed. I break the kiss, looking around. Gage’s room is simple in its style with a sleigh bed, two heavy cherry side tables, a large dresser on one wall, and an armoire on another. There’s no art but rather boxes shaped as such that they clearly hold art pieces. He notices and says, “I haven’t had time to unpack.”
“I can help with that,” I say, my gaze returning to him. I’m jolted back to the reality that I’m in Gage’s bed, and we’re about to have sex.
He’s got one foot planted on the floor and his knee on the mattress by my hip. I about swallow my tongue as he reaches down to the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head.
Oh, he’s beautiful. Golden skin, rippling muscles, and a light smattering of hair on his chest with a separate trail leading down into his jeans. His abs flex as he pulls the shirt free but then relax as he tosses it to the floor.
Gage puts his hands on the mattress, bending to kiss me again, but my hand presses against his chest. I glance at the lamp softly glowing on the bedside table. “Do you mind flipping that off?”
His smile is soft and reassuring. “Of course I don’t mind.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief. Because while I’m ready to take this step with Gage, I’m not ready for him to see all of me yet.
Rather than simply leaning over to turn off the lamp, Gage rises and straightens. “Let me get my clothes off first. Make things a little easier.”
I don’t even think to avert my eyes or give way to modesty. Gage is in no way ashamed of his body and is removing his clothes so that I can see he’s sharing himself openly.
Gage stares at me as he sheds it all. I stare back, but not at his face. I look at everything.
He stands there and lets me get my fill.
“You’re beautiful,” I breathe out, wanting to reach out and touch him.
“As are you.”
I want to argue with him that not all of me is beautiful. That he hasn’t seen the parts that are quite ugly. But he gives me no chance because he’s dousing the lamp and crawling onto the bed.