Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
I paced the length of the living room for the third time, my high heels clicking against the hardwood floor, the voice in my head growing louder with each pass.
What the hell am I doing? I don’t bring strangers home.
And I certainly don’t let handsome men with lazy smiles and whiskey-warm voices completely unravel my composure.
And yet, here I was in the farmhouse I’d rented for the next six months, my heart pounding like I was nineteen again and sneaking a boy into my dorm room at Cornell.
But Gage was no boy; that sexy cowboy was all man.
“Gage,” I said his name out loud, testing how it felt in my mouth … how it rolled off my tongue.
I stopped pacing, catching my reflection in the tall mirror on the wall between the living room and dining room. My fire engine red lipstick had faded slightly, my cheeks were flushed, and my eyes were a little too wide. I looked wild. Undone. And for once, I didn’t care.
A quick rap on the door snapped me out of my head. I crossed the room slowly, not wanting to appear too eager, and opened it to find Gage standing there, his hat in hand, his dark eyes seeming to twinkle in the lamplight as he drank me in.
“Hey, darlin’.”
“Hey, Cowboy.”
We stared at each other for a second until I stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. “Come on in.”
He moved past me slowly, the scent of leather and spice trailing in his wake. I closed the door, the latch catching with a soft click that seemed to echo in the room.
When I turned around, he was watching me. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low purr.
“Yes,” I said, lifting my chin in what I hoped came across as a defiant, confident gesture. “In case I wasn’t clear before, I want you.”
“Well, all right then.” Gage closed the space between us in three quick strides and cupped the side of my neck, his hand warm and solid against my skin.
Then his mouth came down on mine—hot, deep, and oh-so-hungry.
His lips were firm, commanding, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a boldness that made my knees tremble.
It wasn’t a coax or a tease. It was a man staking a claim on a woman.
I felt it in the way he tilted my head, in the way his hand slid around to cradle the base of my skull.
He kissed like he wanted to taste every inch of me, like he’d been waiting his whole damn life to have me.
Heat bloomed in my chest, fire curling low in my belly. My fingers fisted in Gage’s shirt as I leaned into him, feeling the hard muscle beneath it, the way his body fit against mine like I’d been made for him. He tasted like beer and sin and something that felt incredibly dangerous to my peace.
He growled low in his throat and lifted me like I weighed nothing. My arms wrapped around his shoulders as my legs slid up around his waist—thank god for the high slit at the back of my dress.
His mouth moved to the curve of my throat, finding the spot just under my jaw that made butterflies take flight in the pit of my stomach.
“You have no idea,” he said, his deep voice sounding ragged, “how long it’s been since I wanted someone the way I want you.”
I tangled my hands in his hair and let out a low moan. “Then stop talking, and take me to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am. Where are we heading?”
“Second door on the left,” I directed as he squeezed my ass in his palms.
Gage carried me down the hall, every step a confident swagger.
The second we hit the bedroom, he set me on my feet—but only long enough to back me against the wall and kiss me senseless. Again. His hands roamed over my hips, along my waist, and up the curve of my spine … like he couldn’t decide which part of me to touch first.
When he pulled back slightly, his eyes searched mine. “Tell me to stop,” he said. “If you even think it, I need to hear it.”
“I won’t,” I whispered, already reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest as he kissed me again. His hands slid under the hem of my dress, the calluses on his palms rough against my thighs as he dragged the fabric up.
“This dress,” he muttered against my mouth. “I’ve been thinking about getting you out of it since the moment I saw you sitting alone at the bar.”
“Less talking, more sex,” I teased, running my hands up his chest and reveling in the hard muscle beneath my palms.
That earned me a slow, sinful grin. “Yes, ma’am,” he said again, dropping to his knees in front of me.
He guided my dress up over my hips with deliberate slowness, his fingers dragging along my thighs. When he came face-to-face with the thin scrap of lace covering me, he let out a rough, hungry sound and leaned in, nuzzling against me.
“Fuck,” he growled, the sound pure, filthy approval. “You smell like sex and sin and everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.”
Then he buried his face between my thighs to inhale deeply, like he was trying to drag the scent of my arousal all the way into his lungs. “I can smell how bad you want me, Siena,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin through the gossamer fabric. “And it’s driving me fucking wild.”
My whole body tensed with shock. No one had ever spoken to me like that before. No one had ever wanted me like this.
For me, sex had always been somewhat predictable. Not unfulfilling exactly … just a bit more … lower stakes. Less primal. And maybe that had been fine before, but it wasn’t any longer. Because now I knew what it sounded like when a man wasn’t holding anything back.
Gage wasn’t pretending this was anything less than raw, carnal need, and the fact that my scent turned him on? That he craved it? It blew my mind … and lit me up from the inside out.
I was still reeling when his mouth came down on the inside of my thigh and coasted higher, kissing me with slow, deliberate pressure.
Then, with a low groan, he curled his fingers around the outer edges of the fabric and dragged it down agonizingly slow, exposing me inch by inch to his heated amber gaze.
He let my panties fall to the floor, but didn’t move to touch me just yet. Instead, he paused, pulling back enough to look … to take in every glistening inch of me.
“Fuck, look at you.” He reached out and ran the pad of his thumb through my center, gathering the slickness there before lifting it to catch the reflection in low light. “So wet for me already,” he rasped, bringing his thumb to his mouth and sucking it clean. He let out a low hum of approval.
Then—finally—he ducked forward and devoured me.
His tongue swept through my folds—circling, teasing, flicking over my clit before plunging deep inside me. Hot and filthy. Obsessive.
He hooked one of my legs over his shoulder and groaned against me like I was the best goddamn thing he’d ever tasted. And maybe to him, I was.
He learned my body fast—where I needed it soft, where I wanted more pressure, where to suck until I was falling apart.
I slapped my palm against the wall, my head falling back and my eyes dropping closed.
“Eyes on me, sweet thing,” he murmured between licks.
I dragged my eyes open and looked down to find him staring up at me, his mouth glistening with my arousal.
“Good girl. Now fuck my face like you mean it.”
He dove back in, his tongue relentless, as if he were a dying man, I was his last meal, and he planned to savor every bite.
He licked and sucked with obsessive focus, like making me fall apart was his sole mission in life.
Each drag of his tongue was ruthless, his mouth working me with a precision that bordered on punishing.
My whole body tightened as pleasure coiled hot and deep in my belly. My thighs trembled and my hips twitched uncontrollably. “Gage—fuck! I’m gonna—”
“Give it to me, Siena,” he growled against my swollen flesh. “Let me taste how good I make you feel.”
And I did. Freely. Wildly. For the first time in my life, I stopped performing and simply let go. And when he groaned like my pleasure was a gift meant solely for him, I realized he wanted it—me—like this.
My orgasm tore through me like lightning—sudden, overwhelming, and blinding. My hips bucked, a raw cry escaping my throat as pleasure sparked every nerve ending in my body.
It was almost too much.
It was absolutely perfect.
I was shaking, gasping, whimpering as Gage rode it out with me, his tongue never letting up, coaxing every last aftershock from my spent body.
When he finally did pull back, he pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh and rose slowly to his feet, licking his lips like he wanted to savor the taste of my pleasure.
His eyes were blown wide and dark, nearly black in the low light.
Wild. Starving. But when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “You all right?”
I let out a breathless laugh that tumbled into a high-pitched giggle I didn’t recognize as my own as my body buzzed with aftershocks. “I think I blacked out there for a second,” I whispered, dazed. “Are you trying to kill me?”
He chuckled, brushing his fingers softly over my collarbone, almost like he couldn’t resist touching me even now. He was quiet for a long moment, but then he answered by way of a slow grin that was full of mischief and sin. “If I were, darlin’, you’d be dying a very happy woman.”
“Cocky bastard,” I muttered, but the words lacked any real heat. I was too wrecked, too far gone to do anything but let him gloat.
“You’re not wrong there.” He kissed me again, slow and deep, forcing me to taste myself on his tongue.
I reached for his belt buckle, but his hand caught mine mid-motion, stopping me with gentle but firm pressure. “We don’t have to,” he said, voice tight with restraint. “You say the word, and I’ll hold you all night—no expectations.”
I shook my head, already tugging him closer. “Oh, we definitely have to. Was I not clear earlier when I said I wanted you?”