Chapter 33 #2
She had used his pin code. Chosen to be here. Finally.
The week had been hell. He’d been buried in work, chasing deadlines, his world compressed into problem after problem clawing for his attention. He’d been methodically digging his way out, counting the hours until Friday. Waiting to see her. To find some succor.
Then tonight.
Relief. Sharp. Grounding.
She’d come to him.
The moment he’d seen her, the noise had quieted. And she’d given him more.
I missed you.
Soft. Almost shy. Like she wasn’t even sure if she should say it, but said it anyway.
It landed deeper than he expected. In a place he didn’t even know was hollow until she filled it.
She’d touched him. Hands on his skin, light and tentative, seeking permission. He’d felt it long after she’d let go.
He wanted to feel it again.
His fingers curled around the edge of the countertop, knuckles white with the force of it.
Right now she was tucked under his sheets. Sunk into the warmth he’d built for her. The image sent heat rolling through his veins, impossible to ignore.
He should let her sleep. Give her space. But space was the last thing he wanted.
His eyes flicked to the clock. It had been thirty minutes exactly.
His phone vibrated.
BEA CRUZ: Thanks for the clothes. Goodnight.
That was all the invitation he needed.
He stood, and walked down the hall.
GAGE
His bedroom door was silent except for the slightest push of air as he stepped inside.
The room was dark, but she hadn’t flipped the switch that closed the blackout blinds. Silver light was streaming in. She probably didn’t even know that switch existed. Yet.
She wasn’t asleep. He could feel it. He waited for her to decide whether or not she was going to pretend to be.
Finally, she shifted. That was enough.
“You’re awake,” he said.
She peeked at him from under the covers. “You’re back.”
Gage leaned against the doorframe, taking her in. There was moonlight across her hair, glinting off the ebony strands. She was lying on the opposite side of the bed, not the middle. Like she’d left room for him on his side.
“I don’t sleep well in the spare room.”
“Oh.”
He walked closer. Slowly. Gauging her reaction. Wondering if she would still insist on being apart from him.
She didn’t tell him to leave. Didn’t shift away when he carefully lifted the blanket and slid in beside her.
Bea’s breathing was uneven. He could feel her body tense. He let her sit with it for a moment. Let her realize he wasn’t touching her. Let her remember that she was the one in his bed.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soothing. “Relax, sweetheart. I won’t do anything.”
Bea exhaled slowly. He could feel her calculating it, how close she could get without slipping. How much she trusted him. Or herself.
He waited.
Then, with a slowness that ached, she turned toward him. Satisfaction settled low in his chest. He reached for her. Brushed a thumb over her cheek. Lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was deep, unrushed. Her fingers curled on his chest, that soft sound she always made escaping the back of her throat. Gage forced himself to pull back.
“You said you wouldn’t do anything,” she whispered.
“That was just a goodnight kiss,” he assured her.
He watched her convince herself that was true. The way she was caught between what she wanted to do and what she felt capable of.
She gave a small nod. “Goodnight,” she murmured.
Gage exhaled slowly.
He made himself relax, one muscle at a time, forcing his body to obey as he would a machine. And it did. Because he always won. Even against himself.
And yet every part of him was acutely aware of how she’d settled against his—not quite touching, but close enough to fit.
Her breathing was steady against him. Warm, trusting. Foolish. But that trust was his now, and he’d make sure it stayed that way.
She was in his bed. Where she belonged.
He closed his eyes.
For tonight, that had to be enough.
GAGE
Bea stirred beside him, stretching lazily against the sheets, the slow arch of her back brushing his side. He watched her wake, lashes fluttering, sunlight slipping through the curtains and casting gold across her skin.
He stayed still, arm stretched above his head, watching as she turned to face him. Her hair was a little wild, eyes still heavy with sleep.
She blinked up at him. “How long have you been awake?”
His lips quirked. “Long enough.” Long enough to feel every second tick by with her body warm and soft against him. Long enough to know that sleep wasn’t coming.
Her brow creased. “Did you sleep at all?”
Gage dragged a hand down his face. “Not really.”
Her confusion was almost endearing. Almost. “Why not?”
He gave her a look. Saw the exact second she pieced it together. Her eyes widened a fraction. Yet, she pressed her lips together, trying to hide the hint of a smile. He watched her struggle with it, noted the way she couldn’t quite mask that bent of self-satisfaction.
Without a word, he pulled her toward him, her body half-draped over him.
“Hey—”
“You slept well, though.” His voice was a low rasp against her hair. He felt how careful she became, how aware of every point where her body touched his.
“I usually do,” she admitted.
He couldn’t believe it. That she had literally just…slept. He tilted his head back against the pillow, gaze still locked on her.
She glanced up. “You could’ve woken me.”
A huff of air. Not quite a laugh. “Yeah, sweetheart. That would’ve been a great idea.”
He shifted just enough for her to feel it. Maybe it was beneath him, but at that moment he didn’t care. Heat crept up her neck, painting her cheeks with unmistakable color.
Gage smirked. “Exactly.”
She groaned, squirming, but not really trying. Not hard enough to get away. His grip didn’t slacken. Because he didn’t want it to. And she didn’t really want it to, either.
“Stay.”
She stilled. She was thinking. He gave her time.
She finally relaxed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Should we do something today?”
“Let’s go out.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.” He didn’t care. The point wasn’t the destination. It was her, next to him, for as long as he wanted.
“Okay, but no where fancy. All I have are what I wore last night, or my cardigan in your closet.”
His lips curved.
This was new. Waking up together, tangled in his sheets, making plans. It felt right.
Gage pressed a kiss to her temple before sitting up. “Come on. Let’s eat.” He stood and stretched out the muscles in his back. Caught her staring. His smirk turned dangerous. “Careful, sweetheart. Keep looking at me like that and I’ll cancel our plans.”
Her reaction was perfect. The flush on her cheeks deepened. Unpracticed. Raw. He didn’t want her to hide it. He’d teach her that later.
“Breakfast,” she said, scrambling out of bed and brushing past him.
Gage watched, amused, as she disappeared into the ensuite. She moved fast when she was flustered.
His jaw tensed. Last night had been hell. A relentless test of control.
But Bea had come to him. Slept in his bed. Woken up against him.
Now he was going to spend the whole damn day making sure she wanted to do it again.