by Olivia Chase
Gage smacks my ass. “I thought I told you to be quiet.”
I resume my silent ecstasy, beginning to pant while Gage plunges into me over and over, until I once again can’t stop myself. “Faster,” I groan. “Please, Gage, fuck me faster.”
Gage gives me another slap, harder this time. He speeds up, keeping his motions precise, going in all the way and feeling me deep inside.
Ohhhh. “Yes,” I barely manage to get out. “Yes.”
Gage’s tempo increases, and his breathing is intense now. I close my eyes and let him pound me, loving the sounds, loving the sensations building up, loving the fact that right now, I’ve got Gage Ramsey spellbound.
“Holyyyyy.” Gage fights to get his thought out, but then loses himself again.
I allow another little moan to escape, and this time Gage doesn’t punish me for it. He’s gripping my hips, focusing on how this feels.
His throat releases little growling noises, and I can tell the pressure is mounting for him. “So wet,” he huffs. “So fucking wet for me.”
I can feel how slippery and seamless this is. As my own pleasure climbs, my thoughts revert to how strange this is, how new. I’ve never been able to come from behind before.
“I’m almost there,” Gage warns me, sounding almost frantic. “You’re making me—”
“Yes,” I gasp, basking in the packed tension. “Yes, yes…”
“Do it,” Gage urges. “Come for me. Come for me, baby.”
It’s explosive, a sudden spike. I literally have to bite down on my lip to keep from shouting. The release is erratic, sending pulsating feelings shooting in waves. “Gage,” I breathe. “Oh my God, Gage.”
His deep voice betrays his own commands, and he moans, long and low. “Oh,” he says, giving one final push. “Oh, fuck, Keri.”
He erupts within me, and I feel the mechanisms just under his skin throbbing with the climax. We stay like that for a few moments, connected, until we’ve caught our breath.
Then I straighten and he pulls out of me.
We’re quiet for a few moments. The weight of what we’ve done, with full knowledge of who we are, hangs on the office wall amongst Gage’s illustrious degrees and awards. Stanford and Harvard, right there in front of me.
I wait for him to dismiss me. To tell me that yes, I am dropping his class, and right this instant.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he spins me around to face him, his eyes dark like a storm. “How are we going to manage this?” he demands.
“I don’t… Um, I’m not sure.” How could anyone be sure? This is every possible color of forbidden. “Discreetly?” I suggest.
“Fuck,” Gage says under his breath, possibly to himself.
I start to get dressed, but he’s not telling me to leave his office, not telling me that I need to drop his class. It hits me that maybe he feels what I feel, and neither one of us are thinking thoughts of just ending it. Not now.
He glances around his office, his chocolate eyes staying on the door, as if realizing how easily we could have been walked in on. “This kind of thing was not on my radar until you.”
I blush with pleasure, thinking that I could be the one to make this gorgeous, sexy man lose control.
“I will need something from you,” Gage says. “Other than your absolute secrecy.”
“What’s that?”
“Your phone number.”
Chapter 7
GAGE
I told myself I wasn’t going to. Told myself it was out of the question.
But in she came, looking like an angel with raven black hair, all legs in that miniskirt, and it was all over.
It broke my heart to see her so pained. If I’d known what was going on with her father, I wouldn’t have been such an asshole to her. My conscience dings at me, though, because I know I had no reason to be an asshole to her, even before I knew what a crushing couple of days she’s had.
I’ve had dates. I’ve had girlfriends, sure, though I’ve kept my private life out of the public eye. And, like most people, I’ve had hookups to forget.
But Keri? Keri Willis, from the last row, by the window? From that bar, Vulcan’s?
I don’t think I can forget her. I don’t think I want to.
Because that girl is stars.
I watched her as she left my office. I watched her brushing her hair out with her fingers, how silky and dark it was, and how her calves looked as she stepped out into the hallway.
And I knew how wet her thong was that she put back on a minute before.
My cock gets hard again, and it’s all I can do not to call her back in here and fuck her even harder than I just did.
Chapter 8
KERI
There's no way to open Gage Ramsey's office door and gauge who's in the hallway before stepping out. I have to fight my urge to crack the door and peek out, but that would only look more suspicious.
I force my head to stay upright, unlatch the door, and, looking neither left nor right, re-enter the halls of the School of Business, like I was just taking two minutes to ask a couple of questions. Nothing more, nothing less.
Except that my panties are still thoroughly soaked, and every step is a reminder that I did not just pop in for an academic chat.
I feel like everyone who looks at me can tell. If they smile at me or wave and say hi, then they not only know, but they're toying with me.
God. I need to snap out of it. Nobody has any idea. Unless they get way too close to me, then maybe they could pick up the unmistakable scent of sex.
I make it back home, throwing myself into the shower. Thank God Isabel's not here. I fooled her once in the dining hall, but I'm not sure I can do it twice.
Although, I think, stepping out of the shower, do I really want to keep fooling Isabel? She's my best friend. Sooner or later, she'll find out I'm getting laid and will wonder why I haven't divulged, or maybe even be hurt. It would be best if I just told her straight out, wouldn't it?
While I’m drying my hair, I decide I’m going to just tell her. After all, she lets me use this amazing electro-ion or whatever it is high-tech hair dryer, in addition to the rest of her assorted beauty treasures. She's got my back.
It takes me a couple of days to initiate the talk.
A couple of days where I haven’t heard from Gage. Not a call into his office, not a text. During my second class with him, he barely even looked at me. I thought that maybe he was doing it in order to make sure our relationship was kept secret, but now I’m not sure.
Because if he just wanted to keep things secret, why isn’t he calling me? Is it possible that I misread what happened in his office?
I’m dying to talk to someone, but with Isabel and I coming and going, it's not always easy to find a good time. But on Friday afternoon, I take a seat on her bed, tracing the swirl designs of her pink and gold duvet cover as Isabel clatters around her adjoining bathroom. Finally, I decide to just launch into it with one of our typical bantering questions.
"Know what drives me up the wall?"
Isabel glances at me. "When someone's straightened her hair, but she missed a section underneath, so there's this ripple effect?"
"No," I say. "But yeah, that is unsightly."
"I need to redo mine," she announces, pulling at her ends. "The humidity today is just crap."
She turns and heads for her bathroom. Damnit. I get up and follow her.
"What drives me up the wall," I say. "Is when you have something major going on, but you shouldn't tell anyone, but you really need to. To just tell someone."
She glances at me in the mirror. "Are you preggo?"
"No!"
"Herpes?"
"No!"
"Steal something?"
"Iz, come on."
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Well, something."
"What's up?" Isabel rummages in a drawer, pulling out one of her flat irons. I wonder if there's an actual, discernible difference in the
results of her various irons, but I'll ask that later.
I kick off my wedges. I might be here awhile. Watching my friend plug in her hair iron is excruciating.
"You look like you're going to explode."
I might.
"I, um." Do it. "I have to tell you something."
Isabel puts down her flat iron, a courtesy she doesn't give to just anyone. It means I've got her full attention. "Okay," she says, softening. She nods at me, and my heart sinks at her encouraging expression.
I stare at her flat iron on the tile counter for a few seconds. "You just asked what's going on, and probably didn't think anything of it, but, well. Something's going on. Or was going on. I’m not sure if it’s past tense. But I've... been doing something."
"Okay," she repeats. "What?"
I open my mouth, but no words are coming out. Isabel's eyes widen with understanding. "Or," she corrects herself, "Who?"
I feel my face flush deeply, and I sink down onto Isabel's bed. "Someone I, um. Someone most people would say I probably shouldn't have been... with."
"With," Isabel parrots. "So you're... hooking up, or full-on with someone?" Her eyes are alight now. "Oh my God. I had no idea!"
"I know," I say. Good, I think. If she has no idea, then nobody else does, either.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it's not ideal. And I’m not sure if it’s still going on.”
"What isn't?" Her face goes ashen. "Oh, God. You're not hooking up with Becker again, are you?"
"No!" I cry. "God, no."
"Good. So who is it?" Isabel's smile spreads across her face, and that terrible feeling of guilt plants itself back into my stomach. This is the kind of thing she'd already know all about, if Gage was just another Bristowe student. Or any kind of regular joe.
"Promise you won't say anything?"
"To you, or to other people?"
"Other people."
"Okay, but why?"
Her smile is starting to fade, and I have to look away from her. "It's... just not the best setup.
"Okaaay," she says. "Why, is he in prison?"
"No!" I almost laugh.
"Somebody's dad?"
I really do laugh at that one, despite myself. "No, no."
"A prof?"
My throat catches, and I flinch. I can't help it. I train my eyes on the swirly pink rug, and when I look back up, Isabel's face has gone white. I can't say anything, so I just nod instead.
"Oh," she says. "My. Fucking. God."
"Ergh," I mutter.
"I was kidding," she says. "I was kidding. Kidding you with that one. But... you're not kidding."
I shake my head. Half of me feels like puking, but the other half feels like an anvil has been taken off my back. Someone knows. Someone good knows. It's not a total secret.
"Okay, um." Isabel's not finished, and I can't really blame her since I opened this can of worms voluntarily. "Who, then? A prof I know?"
"Not really," I say. "One of mine."
"Well, yeah, I figured that much. But for fuck's sake, who?"
I take a breath and look back at my friend, who's standing in her bathroom doorway holding onto the door frame, like she needs it for balance. She looks shocked enough that maybe she does.
"Remember when I told you that mogul guy was coming to teach some once-in-a-lifetime class?" I ask.
"Gage Ramsey?!"
"Shhh!"
"Gage Ramsey the gazillionaire?!"
"SHHH!"
"What?!" She grabs the door frame with both hands now. "I mean, what??!"
"Yeah," I say, sounding about as brilliant as I've felt the past few days.
"How?!"
"I don't know," I say, and I actually feel a little light-headed. That's really the truth, I realize. "I really don't. I don't think he does.”
"Okay, well, start at the beginning. What went down, that resulted in you now sleeping with Gage Ramsey?"
“Not now,” I say. “I mean, I’m not sure it we’re still…” I twist my hands in front of me, realizing how ridiculous I sound, like some kind of lovestruck schoolgirl. Which is exactly what I am, I guess. "Remember when Becker dumped me?"
Isabel shudders. "Of course."
"That night at the bar?"
"Vulcan's? You picked up a business tycoon at Vulcan's? But you couldn't have. You left with that hottie." I give her a tight little smile and wait for her to catch it. She does. "Hang on a second."
"Yep," I say. "That was him."
"But that guy didn't look a whole lot older than we are."
"I know," I almost yell. "That's the entire point and the entire reason I went home with him. I had no idea that guy was Gage fucking Ramsey."
"Ohhh." Isabel does the slow nod of someone piecing facts together. "I didn't know he was that young. Gage Ramsey is that young?"
"Apparently," I sigh, and flop backwards onto the bed. "Ugh."
Isabel's silent for a minute. "Yep," she says, and when I raise myself up to a sitting position again, I see that she's staring at her phone. "That's him, all right."
"I figured out who he was, eventually. But thanks for checking."
"I had to see it for myself." Isabel claps her free hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. I believe you and all. I just had to see."
"It's okay," I tell her. "I get it. I did, too, even after he stood right in front of my class the next day and described the tight ship called our class he planned to run."
"God." Isabel's hand is still over her mouth, but her eyes show that she's doing one of those half-smiles of disbelief, awe, and sudden understanding all rolled into one. "Gage Ramsey. You hooked up with Gage Ramsey!" She finally takes her hand away from her face. "This is serious."
"I know."
"You can't."
"Can't what?" I ask, though I know full well what she means.
"Shouldn't," she says, and her face morphs from surprised half-smile to troubled. Isabel doesn't advocate the eyebrow furrow, claiming it ages you prematurely, unless you absolutely can't help it.
"Yeah, I know that, too." I shake my head. "But here we are."
"What are you going to do?"
I start to say I don't know, but that would be a lie, so I just don't answer.
"You're not going to keep seeing him, are you?" she presses.
More silence. I know I shouldn't. But can I stop seeing him? Nope, probably not.
"Keri!"
"What?"
"Please tell me you're not."
"I haven’t talked to him anyway,” I try.
"But if he calls, promise me you won’t.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Why not?”
"Because I don't think I can stop seeing him."
"Oh, dear God."
"Sorry," I spit out. "But I didn't start this conversation and tell you about us, only to lie to you and say yeah, I'm going to quit seeing him."
"So what happens now? How does this play out?"
"I don’t know."
"No shit," Isabel snaps, then checks herself. "Sorry. I'm glad you're telling me this, believe it or not. It's just a lot to take in."
I nod. I can't imagine being told something like this, if the situation was reversed.
"I just think you should maybe think a little more about this."
"You think I haven't? Seriously, Isabel, it's all I've been able to think about. I'm not off to a very good start in my classes, I'll say that."
"And that's one point I was about to bring up. What the hell is this going to mean for your grades? Your GPA? Your GMAT?"
Shit. I'm supposed to take that relatively soon, and take an extra prep course on that test even sooner.
"Not thinking about that lately, I see,” Isabel says, shaking her head.
"Mom?!"
"No. Keri, God." Isabel does that almost-laughing thing again, but I can tell she's still shell-shocked. "Not trying to sound like your mom, I'm really not."
My mom, of course, make
s me think about my dad, and that's another swell of agony that I don't need at the moment. I shove those thoughts away. One problem is enough for the current conversation. "My grades will be okay," I say. "I'll make them be okay. I'm still taking the GMAT. I'm still on track for graduation. In fact, that's the entire reason I stayed in Gage's class."
"It is?" Isabel looks skeptical.
"Would you believe I tried to get out of it? Tried to drop it, and switch some stuff around? Because I did. I went straight to the advisor's desk." The memory of craning to see her computer screen, to make sure she didn't miss a single opportunity for me to get out of Gage's Case Studies class, is still fresh in my mind. "And there was literally no other class I could take that wouldn't dick up my graduating on time. If I could have taken Business for Shady Assholes in the Cayman Islands, I would have taken it. Or Fashion Dos and Don'ts for Business, or History of the Fucking Power Suit." Isabel smiles, because she would have taken those last two herself. "I can promise you, I would have signed up for anything other than Gage's class, if it met the requirements. But nothing did. And I have to graduate, Iz."
"When was this? Going to the advisor."
"Like right after the first class of the first day ended, when I showed up late-- from hooking up with him the night before-- and walked into the classroom where he was already in there, standing at the front of the class, talking about what a great semester it was going to be."
I watch Isabel digest this. "You literally didn't find out who he was until you walked into his class."
"Exactly. We didn't exchange names or numbers. It was understood to be just a one-nighter."
"One-nighter with a beautiful stranger." I relax a little as Isabel's face shows signs of understanding. She's done that much herself. "Only your stranger ended up being your fucking instructor."
"Can you see how it happened?" I ask. "Because I still can't, even though I'm the one it happened to."
"I think so," she says quietly. She's still for another moment, absorbing it in her head. "You can see how that unfolded.” She sighs. "He should know better. He's an adult."
