by Tess Oliver
I turned back around, feeling the heat in my face again. “He’s right. It is.”
Gage reached forward and picked a card. “How many partners have you had?” He found the question amusing along with the other guys.
“I’ve never kept track.” Jericho looked over at Seth. “Have you?”
“Maybe when I was seventeen, but—”
“You guys are a bunch of man sluts,” I said. “I’ve had three.” The small number even seemed to shock Kristina. I didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed that I’d had so few or angry that I seemed like the type of girl who would have slept around. “To be honest, I’m not even sure if the first one counted. We were both sixteen and by the time we were done, neither of us was sure if we’d done it right. As far as the other two— one was after prom with a guy whose name I can’t remember. Then I was with one guy for three years.”
Daisy looked at me. “Three years? Was he hot?”
“Yes, very, but he turned out to be an ass.”
Gage stood up behind me. “This little game has been entertaining, but I’m done with it.”
I peered up at him. He seemed a little unsettled by my last answer. “I should probably get home. I’ve got to get into the restaurant early,” I said.
Seth stood and lowered his hand to Daisy. “I think we’ve got some art lessons to tend to.” He popped her up to her feet. On her way up, her drink spilled and ran like a tiny tequila river beneath my bandaged hand. I didn’t notice until it’d soaked through the gauze to my cut.
“Ouch,” I said calmly at first and then the sting turned into a fierce burning sensation. “Shit, shit, shit that hurts.”
“I’m sorry about that, Summer,” Daisy said.
“Not your fault. It was my delayed reaction.” I got to my feet.
Gage took hold of my wrist and turned the hand palm side up. He winced along with me. “I’ve got some gauze in my bathroom. We need to get that hand dry again.”
“At least alcohol is an antiseptic,” Kristina called to us as we headed down the hall.
Gage’s massive form took up most of the space in the tiny bathroom. The stinging had subsided, but I was sure I wasn’t supposed to get the stitches wet. He took hold of my waist and hoisted me up onto the vanity. With a gentle touch that was completely incongruent with his gargantuan hands, he took hold of my wrist with one and gingerly unwrapped the gauze with the other.
I closed my eyes as if I was still watching the horror movie. “I’m not sure if I want to look.” The cool air of the bathroom brushed across my palm as the wet gauze fell away.
“It’s not too bad,” he said. “Makes you look kind of tough.”
I willed myself to look down. “It feels like I’m looking at someone else’s hand. At least a scar on the palm isn’t too noticeable.”
He lifted his eyes to my face. God he was beautiful. “I don’t think it’ll detract from the overall package.”
He reached into a tin box with first aid supplies.
“You’re ready for any disaster, it seems.”
“My job tends to require a lot of quick first aid. Splinters, cuts, abrasions, you name it.” He squirted some antiseptic onto a cotton ball and brushed it lightly over my palm. His extreme closeness, coupled with the caring way he held my wrist and the even more attentive way he took care of the cut, was quite possibly the most sensual thing I’d experienced in a long time. Each little stroke seemed to increase my heart rate.
He took hold of a roll of gauze and unfurled it to what he deemed to be the right length. Then he brushed his finger over my thumb, and my pulse raced. How was it possible that I was getting this turned on from him just tending to my hand?
“If the emergency rooms had more doctors like you, girls would be hurting themselves on purpose.”
His face was still down, but I could see a smile form. He anchored the gauze to my thumb and then pulled the strip of cloth around my palm several times to hold a sterile cotton square in place.
“There, good as new,” he announced. “Well, almost.” Our faces were so close I could have counted his long lashes. He leaned forward and kissed me. It was light and short, but after the seductive first aid session, it didn’t disappoint. Something told me that nothing Gage Barringer did would disappoint. Then, as if he’d read my mind, which was probably easy to do, he pressed himself farther between my legs. His big hands ran up my thighs and stopped just short enough to frustrate and close enough to tantalize.
Just as he leaned in for another kiss, Daisy’s screams of pleasure echoed through the house. Something was slamming a wall in perfect rhythm to her shrieks of delight.
Gage looked slightly embarrassed, a not altogether unpleasing look for him. “It sounds like that porn movie trailer has started again.” Once again, his strong hands took hold of my waist and he lowered me to the floor.
He was always such a hard person to read. I had no idea what he was thinking, but I knew what I was thinking. Aside from the few seconds of my erotic tattoo reveal, some suggestive comments and the one fantastic kiss, he’d been like a boy scout around me. I wasn’t sure how to take it. It was entirely possible that he just didn’t find me that appealing. That thought blackened my mood.
He was silent as we walked to the car, and the ride to my house wasn’t much better. I really had no idea what to think. Once again, I’d dimwittedly turned off the lights. The cabin looked scary and dark and the perfect place for a serial killer to lie in wait.
Gage got out of the car, and I was relieved to know that he was at least going to see me to the door. We walked up the porch. I fidgeted with the key and lock until it clicked open.
I reached around the corner and turned on the light. Then I looked back at him.
“Do you want to come in?”
“Do you want me to?”
I pushed open the door. “If you can’t sense that then I must be doing a lousy job of showing it.”
The air outside was icy. Gage stepped inside and closed the door behind him. It seemed that his shoulders were tense, as if he was holding himself back. Or that might have been what I was hoping for.
“I’m just going to go out on the proverbial limb here,” I said. “After the brief encounter with my caterpillar, it seemed like you were thinking the same thing that I was thinking. If not, then I’m really embarrassed and pissed at myself for being so delusional.”
He looked at me a long moment. “I want you so fucking bad, Summer, it hurts.” He combed his long hair back with his fingers and chuckled at some inside joke. “You have no idea how bad.”
“Then what’s holding you back? It seems to me—”
He shook his head. “Can’t explain it to myself.” His dark lashes dropped as he stared down at the floor, and when he lifted his face to me, I realized that I was falling hard for him.
“I guess I don’t want to scare you off.” He shook his head. “Not that I’m scary in bed,” he quickly amended. “I don’t want to come on too strong. Hell, I guess I’m just trying to make a good impression.”
“Stop with the good impression shit. I want a lasting impression, Gage.”
His pale blue eyes flickered in the light as he looked at me. “I can do lasting.” He crossed the room in two steps. His arms curled around my back, and he pulled me against him. His mouth covered mine. The kiss was long and hard and driven by that intense longing that had been building up between us. He took hold of my good hand and walked me down the short hall to my bedroom. He pushed open the door with his boot and led me inside.
Slowly, I’d been replacing my grandfather’s belongings with my own, and the room had sort of a half Montana, half California feel to it. I liked it that way. His bear shaped lamp and old paintings of the Rockies fit perfectly with my pink striped comforter and stuffed penguin, a toy that I’d never been able to part with.
I went to pull the covers back on the bed. Gage’s tall shadow fell over me. “You’re not getting under those covers until I see every inch
of you naked,” he said.
I turned around. His eyes didn’t leave my face as he reached down and took hold of the hem of my sweater. Unfortunately, my hand made for a slow controlled removal of clothing. It frustrated him as much as it did me. I’d layered against the cold, and as he removed the long sleeved shirt beneath, revealing yet another t-shirt, he laughed. “What will be left of you when I get to the end of this?”
“This is the last layer, I promise. And, just for a little California promo— if we were down there, I’d probably be wearing just a simple dress and panties and you’d already have me pressed beneath you.”
The last shirt came off with a bit less care and a lot more urgency. His patience was slipping away. The cool air swirled around my bare shoulders as he reached forward and flicked open my bra with one hand. He pushed the straps down over my arms and it slipped to the ground. He smiled at the tiny cricket tattooed just below my breast and then his finger reached up to trace over the ink. It had been only the slightest touch, but I could hardly catch my breath.
“Are there any other hidden insects I should know about, or should I say, get to know better?”
I smiled up at him. “As a matter of fact…how do you feel about ladybugs?”
His lids were heavy with the same level of desire that was consuming me, rendering me so close to breathless, I thought I might melt down into a helpless heap.
“I fucking love ladybugs.” His voice was deep and gritty. He motioned for me to sit on the edge of the bed. With my knees shaking wildly, it was a welcome invitation. He pulled off my shoes, and then as quickly as he’d asked me to sit, he pulled my hand to bring me back to my feet. He stepped closer to me and stared down first at my eyes before starting a long heated trail down to my lips and my naked breasts. My nipples were hard and begging to be touched. Again, he seemed to sense what I was thinking, and for a moment, his fingers were diverted from the fly on my jeans to my breasts. At first he ran a teasing thumb over one nipple and I arched my back toward him. He smiled in satisfaction at the instant and profound reaction his touch had on me. He lowered his head and his tongue ran over my nipples. I pressed them harder against his mouth, wanting to feel every erotic stroke. My good hand slipped behind his head, and I tangled my fingers in his long, dark hair, holding him tightly against me and assuring him that I didn’t want him to stop. While his mouth explored my breasts, his hands pushed my jeans down to my knees.
He pulled his mouth away and I nearly collapsed with disappointment. But then his focus moved to my panties. My pussy pulsed as he dropped to his knees in front of me. He pushed my pants to the ground, and I braced my one usable hand on his strong shoulder as I stepped out of them. He was so tall that even on his knees his face came close enough to my breasts. He lifted his chin and pressed his face against them. He kissed each breast gently as his fingers slid beneath the top of my panties. He pushed them to the floor. He sat back on his knees and stared at me, completely naked. I could hear my heartbeat.
“God, Hollywood, you are something else.” His gaze drifted down to my pussy, and it felt as if he’d caressed me. I drew in deep shuddering breaths. He was teasing me with his gaze, and it was working beyond anything I could have imagined. He reached forward and pushed my legs apart with his hands. “Love ladybugs,” he muttered as he discovered the tiny tattoo on the inside of my thigh just inches from my pussy. I’d had it done especially for Logan. Ridiculously, at the time, I’d thought he would be the only person to ever see it. So damn foolish.
Gage got back up on his knees and fingered the tattoo, making sure to brush his calloused fingertips along the throbbing, wet folds of my pussy. Then, almost roughly, his resolve to stay in control seemingly fading away with each tattoo, he turned me around. His mouth pressed against my ass, and he ran his tongue along the branch and down to the butterfly that fluttered at the top of my thighs. “I don’t know who your tattoo artist is, but I envy him and want to wrap my hands around his throat all at the same time.”
He continued a breath stealing trail of kisses down the back of my thigh and then his hand reached around and slid between my legs. He pushed so that my ass stuck out farther, and while his fingers massaged my throbbing clit, his tongue slid into my pussy. The sheer intimacy of it brought me close to climax, and I nearly pitched forward. “Gage,” I said between breaths, “I can’t stay upright. It’s too much.”
Reluctantly, he lowered his hand and pulled away his face. As I turned around, he stripped off his shirt. Black ink tattoos covered one shoulder and half of his chest, and like he had done with mine, I reached up and traced the edges of the design. The solid black ink lines circling his broad shoulder and arm made him look almost menacing.
Gage pulled a condom out of his pocket. His massive shoulders and arms pulsed with the strain of longing as he pushed his boots and jeans off. I looked down as he dropped his underwear to the ground. He was massive everywhere. His erection glistened with the dew of sex. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and wrapping my fingers around his cock. It filled my hand completely. An involuntary shudder ran through me.
His eyes lifted. “Are you cold?”
I swallowed hard. “No, not at all.” I ran my hand along the hard shaft, and his eyes drifted shut as I traced the slick tip with my thumb. That was the melting point. He grabbed both my arms and brought my mouth up to his. His tongue drove deep into my mouth. He turned me toward the bed. In one fluid motion, he had me stretched out beneath him on the mattress.
Gage’s pale blue eyes deepened to a molten blue as he rolled on the condom. He pushed my thighs open wider and stared down at my exposed pussy. His massive cock seemed to grow harder as he gazed at me. Then he lowered himself over me, bracing most of his weight on his hands. He kissed me again. Heat rolled off his skin in waves as his hard body hovered over me. The tip of his cock slid over my abdomen. My one hand felt useless as it rested on the bed, but I clutched his shoulder with my fingers, and I brought my knees up, opening wide to him and hoping he would accept my invitation before I had to resort to begging. His hand slid beneath my ass and he stared down at my waiting pussy as he pushed himself deep inside of me. I held my breath at the sheer size and length of his erection. He was so big, a tiny squeak spurted from my lips as he buried himself farther inside.
He looked up at me. “Are you all right?”
“God, yes.” I lifted my pelvis higher to meet his slow, methodical thrusts. He mastered my body like an expert, knowing exactly how to shift against me, how to fill me so that he reached my most intimate places, the places that made me nearly dizzy from pleasure.
Between the gorgeous man staring down at me and the unbelievable sensation between my legs, I had to convince myself that it wasn’t a dream.
He leaned over me and continued his rhythmic movements, movements that were as well planned and executed as a classical concerto. He watched my face the entire time. “I won’t finish until you come, Summer,” he whispered. “I promise.” Then a wicked smile crossed his face. “But no pressure.”
I wasn’t used to patience. I’d always felt rushed with Logan, and often times, I went completely unsatisfied while he took care of his own needs. It was like Gage’s ability to listen, he made me feel important. And here beneath him, it was the same.
I relaxed my hands above my head and concentrated on the movement of his cock back and forth along my aching clit as he filled me to a depth that I didn’t know existed. I squeezed my thighs around his narrow hips and met each penetrating thrust until I ached from it. Then the sensation of an overwhelming orgasm pulsed through me, and I clutched his arm again, a silent warning not to stop.
He sensed that I was on the edge of coming and leaned his face close to my ear. “Faster or slower, tell me what you want, baby, and I’ll do it.”
“Faster.” The word barely came out. His hips moved faster, and I squeezed my thighs as my pussy clenched tightly around his thick cock. I screamed out as waves of ecstasy coursed through me. I clu
tched his arm again as I trembled beneath his powerful, muscular body.
His eyes darkened as he pressed his hand harder against my ass, pushing my aching pussy higher. His movements quickened to a frenzied pace. He leaned down farther over me, nearly smothering me with his strong chest. He stared straight down at me and then with one last, sharp thrust he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. A deep groan rolled up from his throat, and he held me against his cock for a long time, seemingly taking in every sensation, before releasing me.
He rolled onto his back, and I turned and tucked myself underneath his arm. “Now I see why girls are inviting you into the ladies’ restroom. You are so— so— unselfish. That’s not true about a lot of guys.” I thought about how often Logan, the weasel, had been finished before I’d even gotten warmed up. “How do you keep control like that?”
“I guess I’m proof that practice makes perfect,” he said cockily.
“Egotistical butthead.” I ran my fingers over the smooth muscles of his chest.
“You asked.”
“True. Then I guess I have many girls to thank for creating one highly skilled, timber scented mountain man.” I took a whiff of his skin. “Although, tonight you smell more like soap.” I breathed in his scent again. “And my perfume seems to mix perfectly with it.” I closed my eyes and sighed, cozy and content snuggled next to him. He was the kind of guy whose arms you could sleep easily in, comfortable in the fact that you were totally and perfectly safe and that the possibility of more earth shattering sex waited for you in the morning.
chapter 23
Gage
The room was pitch black and quiet with the exception of Summer’s soft breathing next to me. The unfamiliar creaks of the cabin walls had woken me from a deep sleep, a sleep made better by having Summer’s naked body tucked securely in my arms.
As my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I could see the outline of her profile. Her white blonde hair stood out in the darkness as if it had a light of its own. She had fallen asleep first, and I’d lain awake staring at the ceiling trying to figure out when it had all happened, when the thin, silky girl next to me had interrupted my usual non-committal, every man for himself lifestyle. She was a welcome complication, and now, my only worry was that she might decide not to stay. Montana was an unwelcoming place in the winter, and she’d left behind the possibility of a successful singing career in California, something she was probably more suited to than running a restaurant in the middle of the wilderness. At first, I’d hoped for her to realize how hard the work would be and turn fast on her heels and go back to L.A.. But now the thought of her leaving left a coldness in my chest that was as unfamiliar as it was painful.
