by Marina Adair
Because tonight wasn’t about closure, or atoning for the past. Tonight was about their time, finally taking hold of what was in front of them, and making it go the distance.
Only she moaned—into his mouth. This sweet mewling sound that was as needy as it was sexy, and Gage admitted right then, with Darcy’s heels biting into his ass, that if he didn’t get them to a flat surface soon, the table was as far as he’d make it.
As if reading his mind, she locked herself around his body and mumbled, “Bridal suite. Down the hall. Last door.”
Gage didn’t waste any time, hands on her incredible ass, mouth never leaving hers, he carried her across the kitchen. Darcy, determined to do her part, slid one of those hands, so soft and skilled, between them, giving him a massage that had him stumbling.
When he heard his zipper lower, and felt her warm skin slide beneath the waistband, his focus went hazy because all of the blood had rushed south.
Afraid they’d both wind up on the ground, he rested her on the kitchen table. “We aren’t going to make it if you keep that up.”
“I like keeping it up,” she said leaning back. “And I always liked the look of you at my kitchen table.” She pushed out a chair with the toe of her stiletto, then pushed him back into the seat. “Just like that.”
“And every time I sat at your kitchen table, just like this, while you were flirting around in your nonexistent sleeping shorts, I always imagined you straddling me.”
She reached out and loosened his tie. Taking both ends, she slowly tugged on it, pulling him upright in the chair. “I was not flirting around. I was cooking breakfast.”
“Ah huh, like you’re just helping me out of my tie.”
She gave a hard tug. “Oh no, right now, I’m flirting around.”
“Well, nothing says you’ve got your flirt on quite like straddling.” He patted his lap. “And if you wanted to make it crystal clear, it might help if you lost the dress first.”
Darcy turned around and coyly glanced over her shoulder.
Signal received, he ran his finger tip down her spine, stopping to watch her skin chill from the contact. When he reached the zipper, he gave one fluid tug, the teeth separated, and the dress parted in two, falling all the way to the floor—like he fucking knew it would—leaving Darcy in black panties.
No bra.
And Gage was a ninja master when it came to panties, because that scrap of black lace was nothing more than a freaking thong—and Gage’s life was complete.
“Jesus, had I known that was all you had on under there, I wouldn’t have waited for two hours.”
“Good things come to those who wait.” Darcy turned to face him, and even though she was having fun playing sex goddess, he could see the nerves in her eyes. Tell she was putting on that brave front for him.
He didn’t want her courage, he wanted to make her life easier. Brighter.
“They do.” This moment was all the proof he needed. “If you’re not ready, that’s okay.”
“It’s been a while,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself like a shield. “And I’m a little nervous.”
“Me too.”
Standing, he cupped her face, then kissed her nose, her cheeks, and finally her forehead. And when she’d relaxed, he pulled her into his arms.
“You deserve this moment to be as beautiful as you,” he whispered. “And that requires more than a table and words. I want to take you to a bed, where I can love your body, show you how special you are, and then in the morning wake up to your smile and start all over.” He tilted her face to meet his. “And if that isn’t tonight, then it isn’t tonight.”
Her eyes shimmered, emotion and desire turning them the warmest shade of whiskey.
“I’m done waiting, Gage. I’m ready to move forward. With you.” Silently she took his hand and together they walked down the hallway, to the last door, and once they were inside, Gage scooped her up and carried her to the bed.
Setting her down, he tossed a condom on the nightstand, his tie over the back of the footboard, and his shirt to the floor. His eyes never leaving hers, he slid over her body and gently kissed her lips.
“What about your pants?” she asked.
“This is all about you. We’re going to take it slow, wait until you are good and ready.”
A man of his word, Gage took his time, licking and kissing and memorizing every part of her body. Starting with her breasts, high and a perfect handful, before moving south, loving how her breath caught when he nipped her breast, licked her stomach, and finally kissed a whisper above her core.
His lips were careful to get close enough to tell her what was coming, but not giving in to the fire until he’d made his way down each one of those legs he loved, kissing her on the inside of her ankle as he slipped off her heels. He spent extra time working his way back up to her inner thigs, nipping the patch of bare skin right beside the lace edging of her panties. And when she was panting so hard he knew she was ready, he gave a lick right up the center.
“Oh…God,” she cried out, arching her back to increase the friction.
And since he loved the sound of her crying out, he did it again. On the third pass, he upped the ante, tugging her thong to the side and leaving nothing between them but hot, pulsing skin.
“I’m about ready to—”
She broke off as he gave a little bite, only to soothe it with his mouth. “We’ve had too many almosts, Pink. This time, I’m going for the sure thing.”
Even though she was about ready to combust, he worked her until her thighs tightened, closing in around him, straining for more. Gage, always the gentleman, gave her what she wanted, adding a finger to the mix.
Only when she made this sweet panting, almost gasping for breath, did he push her over the edge. Her climax was hard and sudden, and she pushed off the bed, her entire body coiling as Gage kept going. Relentless, he kept on, right through her release, and through her aftershocks, not giving in until she was limp on the bed, a satisfied smile on her face.
“That was amazing.”
“Better than cake?” he asked.
“Way better than cake,” she murmured, her eyes sliding closed.
While she caught her breath, Gage made short order of his pants and was back over her in a matter of seconds, sheathed and ready to go. But he paused, right at her core.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked, opening her eyes.
When he still didn’t move, her eyes opened and locked on his. Two big, beautiful pools of sunshine that were for him—and him alone—he let himself fall.
With the hope that she would catch him.
“That,” he said. “That was what I was waiting for.”
Unable to hold back any longer, he gave one long thrust and filled her completely, both of them gasping at the connection. Energy arched and flowed between them, and he realized he had a dopey smile on his face. Which wasn’t as embarrassing as he’d expected, because Darcy’s expression wasn’t that far off.
“I knew it would be great,” she said.
“But this is—”
“Yeah.”
Thanking God that he wasn’t alone in this insanity, Gage began to move. Slow withdrawals and even slower thrusts, building a rhythm together until it was as if they were back out on the dancefloor, moving to the sound of their hearts.
Darcy shifted her hips, ever so slowly, locking her legs around his back—those heels once again biting into his ass.
“Your shoes are killing me,” he moaned.
“Want me to take them off?”
“Fuck no.”
With a throaty laugh, she squeezed her legs even tighter, until there wasn’t any air left between them—and he was certain he’d have puncture wounds come tomorrow. And when the languid pace became too painful to sustain, Gage braced himself on an elbow, so he could stroke every inch of her, find every spot that made her gasp.
When he found the spot, she didn’t just gasp, she gripped his hair and
crushed her mouth to his. And damn, she could kiss. The mouth of an angel, the passion of a tornado.
Addicting combination.
“Now,” she said, biting his lower lip. “I wanted to be clear. I’m ready now.”
Perfect timing, since he was one stroke from losing it, and the little swivel action she did with her hips didn’t help his situation. Breathing became impossible. Holding back became impossible. His chest felt too big for his skin and his heart too full for his body.
He wanted to hold her to him and set her free all at the same time. So when she lifted her hips, he went in fast and deep. Sure, he wanted to make this last, wanted to blow away every “what-if” she’d had about them, but she was clenching again, thrusting those magnificent breasts out. And the pressure built. Hotter and higher.
He tried to keep himself in check, but her thighs tightened around his waist until he thought he’d pass out.
“Pink,” he said, the nickname only he’d ever used, and she opened her eyes and met his gaze straight on. She was looking at him as though he was her choice—and that was all it took.
She started to shake and she pushed down as he came up and then, holy fuck, then the sweetest sound ever came out of her mouth.
“Gage,” she cried. Not once, but several times. Each one gaining in volume and ferocity.
“I got you.” But do you have me?
He must have said it aloud, because she whispered, “I’ve always had you.”
With one final thrust, he pressed his face into the curve of her neck and let go. Loud and hard, his release shook him to the core, as if tearing him in two while putting him back together.
He rolled over, bringing Darcy with him as they both struggled to catch their breath.
When he was able to open his eyes, Darcy was resting on his chest, her smile tilted up at him.
“Hey there,” he said, picking up a strand of her hair and letting it slide through his fingers.
“You know what’s even better than day old cake?” She kissed his chest. “After-sex cake.”
“You know what follows after-sex cake?” He fisted his hand in her hair. “Eating the frosting. One. Lick. At. A. Time.”
Chapter 11
“It’s so sinful, I could lick every last drop.”
Stephanie Stone set her shot glass down and placed a dramatic hand to her flat stomach. She was dressed in a cropped pantsuit, strappy Jimmy Choos, and a handbag that cost more than Darcy’s mortgage. She was regal, refined, and so stunning Darcy had a hard time not staring.
Today was a perfect Portland afternoon for a tour and menu tasting. The roses were in full bloom, the sky was so clear they could see all the way to Mount Hood, and a cool breeze came off the Columbia River. Yet, Darcy was a nervous wreck.
Today wasn’t just any tasting, it was the Easton/Stone wedding menu tasting.
Outside of Gage, Rhett would be the first Easton she would reunite with. While things with Gage were going well, so incredibly well she couldn’t stop smiling whenever she thought about their night together—which was every day this week—she wasn’t sure how welcoming Rhett would be.
Gage assured her that everything would work out. That Rhett was beyond grateful for her willingness to work with them on the wedding, the rest of his brothers were coming around, and he’d handled his mother. But when Stephanie showed up with her publicist instead of her betrothed—a strange arrangement as far as Darcy was concerned—she began to wonder if Gage had been too optimistic.
If the chasm between her and Kyle’s family was too painful to overcome. And, if so, where would that leave Darcy and Kylie?
Gage was a man of his word, and she was secure in his promise that she wouldn’t get burned. But he was intensely loyal to his family. And in the end, Kylie might be family—but Darcy was an outsider.
Always would be.
“Rhett was all for the shooters,” Stephanie said, looking at the different types of shot glasses, picking up an elongated modern style.
“I think when you said shooters, he was imagining something a little more leaded than chilled artichoke and avocado soup,” her publicist Anna said. Taking a tentative sniff, she wrinkled her nose and put it back. “Plus, it’s green. Rhett specifically said nothing green.”
Darcy had to laugh, because Kyle also had an acute aversion to anything green. Actually, if it was labeled a vegetable, he’d claim he’d get hives just from looking at it. Kylie had the same reaction.
But since this wedding was a joining of two people, it was Darcy’s job to make sure both sides were represented.
Even if the groom was a no show.
“You could always go with this softened watermelon and mint sorbet if you like the idea of a chilled shooter.” Darcy placed a glass in front of each woman, since it was clear from Stephanie’s book that she wanted some variation of an elegant shooter passed around on trays. “Or, we could have the chef make up a refreshing shaved ice, such as key lime to freshen the mouth and cool the guests as they wait for dinner to begin.”
Stephanie took a dainty sip of the watermelon sorbet and her eyes went wide. “It’s light, refreshing, and delectable.” She downed the rest in a single swallow. “It’s like watermelon sangria.”
“There’s actually a little rum in there. I knew that you loved fruit inspired drinks, so we modeled this after a mojito,” Darcy explained. “There isn’t enough alcohol to be overpowering, and we’d of course have virgin ones for guests who don’t drink, but it’s different and would go well with the rest of the meal.”
“Anna, you should try this.” She slid the shooter Anna’s way, and her assistant took an obligatory sip, and gave a smile. Then she picked up her phone and started scrolling through emails.
The woman wasn’t there as a support for Stephanie. She was there because she was being paid. A bride should be surrounded by family, friends, and if not the fiancée, then at least someone who wanted to celebrate the moment.
Stephanie acted as if nothing was amiss, but the poise and posturing was a defensive tactic Darcy knew well.
“Didn’t I see a cantaloupe one on the list?” Stephanie picked up the menu book and flipped to the second page. She pointed to a cantaloupe and ginger sorbet. “Can we try that one? The color would look great against the bright orange poppies.”
And this was why it was important that both people be present.
The last thing Darcy wanted to do was overstep her bounds, and make the situation any more uncomfortable. But avoiding a possible allergic reaction was more important.
With a bright smile, Darcy said, “It would look amazing, great eye. Anna, could you go ask the chef if he could whip one up?”
If either woman was surprised that Darcy was asking Anna to do her job, neither of them showed it. When Anna disappeared into the house, Darcy gently asked, “I didn’t want to ask in front of Anna, but isn’t Rhett allergic to cantaloupe?”
Stephanie blanched. “He is? I didn’t know.” She gave an embarrassed smile and, not for the first time that day, looked as if she were trying to pass some test, rather than planning her own wedding. And wasn’t that a sad state of affairs. “That’s something I should know, right? I mean we’re getting married. In three weeks and I nearly ordered something that could send the groom to the hospital.”
Darcy put a hand on Stephanie’s arm. “If you wanted to reschedule when Rhett is back in town, I’d understand.” It would create a bigger time crunch on her end, but she was willing to work something out, if anything to save Stephanie from a disastrous wedding menu. “I know you two are both on crazy schedules, and the wedding is in just a few weeks, but I want to make sure both of you love the day.”
Stephanie shrugged. “He was called in last minute to be on the Tonight Show, which is huge for him. He offered to cancel, but I told him to go. Opportunities like that can change a career, especially when he is so close to that tipping point. He gets back tomorrow night and I leave Wednesday morning for LA. I know this probably so
unds like a mistake, but we really are good together.”
“I’ve seen a lot of weddings, and it isn’t about knowing someone’s favorite color or sports team that matters, it knowing what’s in their heart.” Something that Darcy had learned after Kyle. She’d known everything there was to know about Kyle, except what really made him tick.
“I thought that dating someone in the industry would be easier, because they’d understand the demands.” Stephanie sat back and she looked tired, more than just the stress of a wedding. No, her kind of tired came from feeling responsible for everyone around her. “But we’re both constantly feeding the demands, and sometimes it feels as if we’re being pulled in opposite directions. We’re rushing the wedding because it’s the only time we both have two weeks free for over a year.”
Darcy was never for rushing a marriage unless it was for love. And not just from her own experience, but from a decade in the industry. Yet, she was the last person to be giving marriage advice. But she was an expert in knowing when to run for the hills. “When you’re together, does it feel right?”
Toward the end, even when she and Kyle had been in the same room, Darcy felt like he was a million miles away. She’d known for months that it wasn’t going to work—it had just taken her heart longer to catch up. Darcy didn’t give up on people, she’d been given up on too many times to do that to anyone else. So acknowledging that her relationship was over was difficult.
Going through with the wedding would have been suffocating though.
“When I’m with Rhett, I feel like I can kick back and be myself. He’s sweet and caring. So easy to be around.” A light sparked in Stephanie’s eyes. “The man treats me like I’m something special, not for anything I’ve done, but just for being me, you know?”
“Yes.” Darcy did know. It was the same way she’d felt with Gage. Back in college and the past few weeks. He had a way of making her feel seen, as if who she was was enough.
