17. Lily #2
Visible colorful tattoos also peek from the folded cuffs, flashing the brand’s trademark nova check fabric.
Gage was hiding a badass secret.
He’s so out of my league.
My father doesn’t rub shoulders with men who sport tattoos— I guess I can’t say that. A suit and buttoned up shirt do a smashing job at hiding a man’s edgier side.
My father turns his nose up at the entertainment industry and people who choose to sully their skin by marking it with vulgar ink.
My closed off bodyguard is becoming an even bigger enigma.
I wonder if the tattoos only run along his arms, or does he also have them on his back and chest.
I continue my inspection.
The shirt is snug around his wide chest and huge arms.
Gage completes the casual-but-oh-so-hot look with black jeans and kickass black shoes.
He’s gorgeous. And he exudes such raw masculinity, it’s bewildering.
It’s unfair how beautiful this man is to me.
He might not have Beckett’s or Phoenix’s perfect features, but that’s what makes him so hot.
“Hey,” he says.
A blush creeps from the tip of my toes to the top of my head.
I’m so glad to see him––more than I should be considering he’s been ignoring me––but I’m determined not to show it .
You’re not a prepubescent teenage girl, so play it cool. “Hey.” Okay not exactly cool, but at least I didn’t come across like an overexcited puppy.
My heart thuds in erratic beats making it impossible to string a sentence together.
He takes me in, his gaze traveling down to my feet, up my legs, hips, brushing up my body to my breasts, before returning to my face, which I’m sure is a violent shade of crimson.
“May I cut in?” The question should be addressed to Cesar, but Gage’s green eyes are still fixed on me.
I answer with a shy nod.
“Of course,” Cesar says, before breaking out of our dance position and taking a step back. “It was a pleasure.”
“Thank you for being so courageous.” I grimace.
“You’re selling yourself short, Lily.”
“I doubt it.” I scoff.
Cesar’s eyes shift to Gage’s. “A few more lessons, and this one”––he points at me––“will dance like a pro.”
“I got it from here.”
The two men exchange a silent conversation I’m not privy to.
“I’m sure you do,” Cesar says. “I’ll go give my sexy Dominican wife some salsa lessons.” He laughs his head off. “Catch you kids later.” He pats the tall mountain of a man standing in front of me on the shoulder.
For a beat, we stare at each other.
Even in my skyscraper heels, our height difference is laughable.
He takes me in his arms.
Wild flutters go off in my belly at the contact.
I hitch a breath, as my mind goes a bit hazy.
He takes a sharp one, and lets it out in a swift exhale .
I’m not sure if my inexperience is causing me to see things that are only a mirage, but I swear, there’s something between us.
I felt safe in Cesar’s arms––like you would in your older brother’s embrace. Gage’s proximity is dizzying. And intoxicating. And all-encompassing.
Our bodies move to the rhythm of the beat.
Needing to dump a bucket of cold water over my body to ebb the burning flames of desire, I speak, “Cesar is building me up. I can dance to pop music, but no one will confuse me for a ballroom dancer.”
“That makes two of us,” he says.
“You don’t salsa?”
“I get by, but you won’t catch me doing any crazy moves.” He jerks his chin in Arianne and Beckett’s direction. Other than those two, there are a few couples showing off their best salsa moves on the dance floor.
Gage gives me a twirl. Nothing crazy.
When he catches me in his arms, I lose my breath.
My happy martini induced buzz from earlier is nothing compared to how lightheaded I am right now.
“So, I don’t have to worry I’ll break an ankle?” My tone is teasing.
He pulls away from me, his gaze traveling down the length of my body. “Your outfit…” His nostrils flare. “Hmph…”
Not that again.
I’m wearing a pair of gold designer embroidered shorts with a sleeveless blouse in pale pink. The high neck hides my necklace. Lucky for me, Dom’s outfit matches my designer peep-toe ankle strap heels in a metallic gold sheen animal pattern.
Dom let me borrow her Chanel gold crocodile embossed calfskin clutch. My jaw dropped when she offered. My half-brothers would never allow me to borrow a cup of sugar, let alone something they cherish.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
His mouth is pinched as he gives me another onceover. “It’s a good thing I’m here to act as a buffer between you and all the single guys here tonight.” He meets my gaze. “Especially, Collin Dennison.”
How did he know?
And why does he care?
Something snaps inside me.
I halt my step, and twist out of his grasp. “That’s it? You’re here because you think I need a babysitter?”
Gage’s expression is tight and intense, his ice-green eyes almost mystical under the low lights. He crosses his muscular arms over his wide chest. The authoritative stance makes me swoon in sheer lust.
“You’re showing a mile long of legs.” His tone is accusatory.
My head jerks back as if he slapped me across the face.
This is where I’d swallow my response, bite my tongue, suppress the need to retort to avoid causing waves.
Not going to happen.
“Yesterday, you had a problem with my dress. Today, you have a problem with my shorts. I don’t need another man disapproving of me.
” I’m on a roll. “As per your message to Mikki—a message you conveniently forgot to include me on—you weren’t going to show up.
You should’ve stayed away. I don’t need you on babysitting duty. ”
With that, I’m ready to distance myself from him, but I don’t go far.
A large hand clamps around my wrist. “You’re not going anywhere.”
His commanding voice suggests I have no choice in the matter, but fuck if that doesn’t stop me from putting my foot down. “Let go.” I try to free my arm from his vicelike grip.
It’s in vain.
The man is too strong.
“Sounds like you have a lot to get off your chest, princess.”
“I said, let go, you brute.”
“Let’s get it all out in the open.” He pulls me off the dance floor.
“Gage, where are we going?”
He ignores me, and keeps eating the floor with his long strides, forcing my step to speed up to a stomping-jog to keep up without tripping in my sky-high heels. Each rapid step matches the pounding of my heart.
As if we’re now the entertainment, the DJ lowers the music to background levels.
The sisterhood and the inner circle stare, but no one attempts to stop this beast.
Thanks for the support, guys.
My humiliation clutching for something to grab onto, I snap at him. “You’re walking too fast.”
Gage stops.
Unprepared, I practically bump into him.
He turns around, his eyes dropping to my strappy high heels.
Narrowed green eyes meet mine.
A foreign surge of fear, anticipation, and excitement swirl within me.
With a growl, he sweeps me off my feet, throws me over his shoulder, firefighter-style, and Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle, kidnaps me.
I screech.
Is someone going to stop this madman ?
To my shock, the inner circle wolf whistles and catcalls, fists pumping in encouragement.
Ugh.
Struggling with the beast is pointless. I stand zero chance against this gladiator.
With my head dangling near Gage’s fine ass, he resumes his mission.
I lift my head long enough to scour the room.
Judging by Mikki’s stunned expression and that of many members of the sisterhood, Gage is stealing the show. And I am an unwilling participant. The men on the other end, are pumping their fists in the air.
Figures.
Given the difference in size, I can’t fight him off. I’m pretty sure drumming my fists against his back in outrage would only tickle him.
I only have one recourse.
“You better?—”
My protest fades on my lips when his hand tightens around my calves, while the other rests around my thigh, right below my ass. The intimate touch sends a ripple of sensation coursing through my body.
Good God.
I don’t have time to linger in that blissful state for too long.
Gage walks us out of the private room and down a corridor.
In this position, I can’t tell where we’re going.
Another turn, and he comes to a stop.
He slides me down his body until my feet touch the ground.
I hook my fist at my waist. “What’s your problem?”
His eyes roam over my face before his gaze lingers on my mouth. His nostrils flare like a bull ready to charge and the wide expanse of his chest hitches.
“Your heels aren’t made for walking,” he says.
He’s so distracting that for a moment, I forgot my question.
My jaw drops, but fury prompts me to recover. “That’s your lame explanation?”
He grunts.
“Let me get this straight,” I say. “You operate on two settings––you either grunt like Mr. Grumpy Pants or revert to this… this…”––I wave a frantic finger up and down the length of his body––“primal, feral caveman? Can’t you talk like a normal human being?”
He opens a door behind him. “Get in.”
“Stop bossing me around.”
He works his jaw. “You want to talk? Get inside, Lily.”
Not bothering to wait, he pulls me by the hand, hauling me inside a dark room.
Cardboard boxes, wood crates, extra chairs and tables, a high-back office chair, and a desk, line the walls of the neat storage space.
I turn around to face him.
I cross my arms over my chest, steadfast in my stubbornness.
I expect him to turn on the lights, but he doesn’t.
“Are we supposed to talk in the dark?”
The space basks under city lights coming through the large windows, but I’d welcome a more brilliant light so I can better keep my eyes on the beast.
He takes a step closer.
I unfold my arms and take one back.
We do this dance a few times as he backs me further into the room, his wide shoulders blocking the view to the door—the exit to safety.
A stuttering breath leaves me.
This close, under the faint luminosity pouring into the space, his wintergreen eyes shine like pale gemstones, the fierceness unmistakable on his handsome face. The scent of his cologne wafting around me, is intoxicating. No doubt it’s called Eau de Scorching Hot .