Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
The moment I announced that Gage and I had already met, I wanted to snatch the words back.
But it was too late. The damage was done, and now I was sitting at a table with my father, picking at what would otherwise have been a very lovely meal were it not for my appetite deserting me, while trying desperately not to look at the man who’d turned my carefully ordered world upside down.
Of course, I failed miserably.
Every few seconds, my gaze drifted across the dining room to where Gage sat with his brother and Senator Rafferty, only to find those piercing amber eyes already locked on me.
Each time our eyes met, heat flashed through my body like lightning, followed immediately by a wave of panic that left me feeling dizzy.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight, sweetheart,” Dad said, cutting into his steak. “Everything all right?”
“Fine,” I managed, forcing myself to take a bite of my slow-roasted salmon. The fish was probably delicious, but it might as well have been cardboard for all I could taste it. “Just tired.”
It was a lie. I was many things right now—mortified, aroused, terrified—but tired wasn’t one of them. Every nerve in my body felt like it was humming with electricity, hyperaware of the man sitting twenty feet away who knew exactly how I sounded when I came.
“Those Mercer boys seem nice enough,” Dad continued conversationally, though I didn’t miss the speculative gleam in his eyes as he studied me over the rim of his wine glass. “Though it’s clear there’s some sort of tension between you and Gage.”
As if my eyes had a mind of their own, I chanced another glance across the room. And experienced another jolt of awareness when I found Gage’s attention fixed on me like a homing beacon. This time, he didn’t look away when our eyes met, and I could see the questions burning there.
Questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
“Siena.”
I jerked my attention back to my father. “I’m sorry, what?”
My father’s expression shifted from casual curiosity to something sharper. “I asked you what’s going on.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play coy with me, sweetheart. The way you two were looking at each other. The way you can’t stop looking at each other.” He set his glass down and rearranged his cutlery so that it was perfectly aligned with his plate. “Has that man been bothering you?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” I set my own glass down with trembling fingers. “It’s … well, just really complicated.”
“Most worthwhile things are.” He gave me a wistful smile, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about his relationship with my mother.
Unlike his first marriage, theirs had been a true love match, and when she passed five years ago, it had gutted him.
He was fond of telling me he hoped one day I’d let down my guard enough to find that kind of love.
“I know this is the part where a daughter wants her mother’s advice, but you can talk to me, too, you know. ”
Before I could figure out how to explain the unexplainable—how I could tell my father I’d had a one-night stand with a cowboy who’d rocked my world and then dismissed him because I was terrified of wanting something I couldn't have—movement from across the room caught my eye.
Gage was pushing back from his table.
My pulse spiked as he excused himself from his companions, his intention clear as his gaze found mine across the crowded restaurant. He was coming over here.
Oh god. No. Absolutely not.
“Excuse me,” I said quickly, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor as I stood. “I need to …” I didn’t finish my sentence before I gestured toward the hallway and pivoted on my heel, heading straight toward the coat check.
“Siena!” I heard my dad call out softly.
I hesitated for half a second, my steps faltering as I fought the urge to turn back and apologize, but the thought of Gage reaching our table … of having this conversation in front of my father?
No. That couldn’t happen.
I kept walking with my head down, my legs unsteady, hyperaware of every step, every breath, every beat of my racing heart.
The hallway leading to the coat room was dimly lit and thankfully empty, but I could hear footsteps behind me.
I stopped suddenly, turning and pressing my back against the wall and closing my eyes, bracing myself for the confrontation I’d been dreading since the moment I’d seen Gage sitting at that table looking like every fantasy I’d ever had about what my future husband should look like.
I listened to him approaching, the click of dress shoes on the hardwood floor so different from the thunk of cowboy boots I expected, until the sound stopped directly in front of me. He cleared his throat softly.
I opened my eyes and lifted my chin to find him scowling down at me.
“Bellrose?” he asked with a lift of his eyebrow. “Can’t say I saw that coming.”
I let out a shaky breath, my chest deflating as if I were a balloon someone had let the air out of. “Yeah, well. I knew you’d recognize the name immediately.”
His thick brows furrowed. “So you what? Figured you’d keep it a secret.”
“I planned on telling you,” I said, then caught myself with a sharp shake of my head. “Actually, no. That’s not true. I wasn’t going to tell you anything about me.”
He broke our stare, dragging a hand over the back of his neck like he needed to release the tension coiled there. When he brought his eyes back to mine, they weren’t blazing with fury anymore. His gaze was clouded with confusion, and that hit me harder than his temper ever could.
“Why?”
“I recognized your name the moment you said it. I’m sure you’re aware your family’s reputation precedes you.
Before I even got here, my team had given me a heads-up about a local family spearheading efforts to keep luxury developers at bay.
That line about cosplayers versus real cowboys when we first met? I stole it from you.”
“So you knew exactly who I was, but you let me think you were some …” He exhaled sharply through his nose and shook his head, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“You know what? I won’t pretend I had any fucking clue who you were, just that you stuck out like a fish out of water.
” His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the anger simmering beneath. “You played me.”
“I didn’t play you,” I shot back, my fingers pressing into the wall behind me. “I just …” My gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before I forced myself to meet his eyes again. “I knew if you found out who my family was—what we’re building here—you’d hate me before you even got to know me.”
“Except you won’t let me get to know you.
” He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something expensive and woodsy, so different from the scent of leather and hay I remembered from our night together.
When he braced his hands against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in, my breath caught.
“You let me know your body, sure,” he continued, his words low and deliberately provocative.
“Let me learn how to make you scream my name.” He leaned even closer with each sinful item he ticked off, until his breath ghosted over my lips.
“How to make you soak those thousand-thread-count sheets of yours.”
My heart hammered against my ribs as he hovered there, close enough to kiss, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Then, just as I found myself swaying toward him, he pulled back abruptly.
“But actually know you?” His amber eyes searched mine from an arm’s length away, the sudden distance feeling like a chasm I wasn’t brave enough to cross. “That was never really an option, was it?”
He’s doing it on purpose, I realized with a sharp intake of breath. Showing me precisely what it feels like to be drawn in and then shut out.
The recognition stung almost as much as his withdrawal.
I pushed off the wall and stepped forward, closing the distance he’d created.
Now I was the one invading his space, looking up at him with challenge in my eyes.
“Fine. You want honesty? Let’s be honest, Gage.
” My voice was steady despite my racing heart as I poked him in the chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his dress shirt.
“If you’d known who I was that night—if I’d walked into that bar as Siena Bellrose, the woman building a luxury resort in your precious valley—would you have approached me? Bought me a drink? Followed me home?”
I punctuated each question with a slight push against his chest, backing him up slightly as I advanced. “Would you have done all those things to me you just described?”
By now, we were standing toe to toe, my hand splayed against his chest, his amber eyes dark and unreadable as he stared down at me.
Desire pooled low in my belly despite my anger—or maybe because of it—and I could feel the dampness gathering between my thighs.
“Or would you have written me off as another spoiled rich girl intent on ruining your community before I even opened my mouth?”
His eyes dropped to the mouth in question. His jaw clenched as he stared down at me for a long moment.
I expected him to defend himself, to argue back, not for him to growl, “Goddamn you, woman,” as his strong, calloused hands tunneled through my hair, tugging just enough to make my breath catch as he tilted my head back and crashed his mouth onto mine.
The kiss was fierce and unrestrained, tasting of red wine and desire sharpened into frustration. His lips were warm and unyielding—demanding—moving against mine with a hunger that mirrored my own and left me trembling.
That heady cedar and smoke scent of his closed in around me, dragging me straight back to the night I swore I wouldn’t think about again.
His chest pressed hard into mine, muscle beneath crisp cotton, the warmth of his skin searing my hand through the fabric.
When he groaned again, the rumble vibrated through me, low and primal.
I fisted his shirt, the ache inside me building, and kissed him back with every ounce of the frantic desperation I’d been trying for weeks to deny.
He tore his mouth from mine, leaving me gasping, and in the next breath, he crowded me back into the wall I’d only just pushed away from.
My shoulders hit the paneled surface as he pinned me in place, his hips pressing forward until the hard, insistent length of him ground against me, the silk of my panties feeling strangely rough against my swollen flesh.
The friction made my breath stutter, my desire ratcheting up a notch.
His lips found my jaw, rough kisses dragging fire along my skin before trailing down my neck. Each press of his mouth was punctuated by words that seared into me.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he rasped against my throat, his teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Another kiss, harder, lower, right where my pulse thundered. “You scare the hell out of me, Siena. I swear I’ve never felt like this about anyone."
I clutched at his shoulders, my fingers digging into the muscle there as his hips rolled again, grinding harder, his need blatant, undeniable. My body arched helplessly into his, answering the demand in his.
“I don’t care who you are, Siena Bellrose,” he growled, his mouth hot against the sensitive curve of my neck. “As long as you let me fuck that beautiful cunt of yours again.”
The crudeness of his words should have made me recoil, but it only made me ache harder. My thighs clenched, dampness gathering as the hunger in his voice and the raw truth of his body against mine stripped me of every last pretense.
“Yes,” I cried, my throat constricting with how badly I wanted it.
Wanted him.
This wasn’t just about physical release either. I wanted this man to claim me, to make me his in every way that mattered.
“Please, Gage. Make me forget who we both are.” I reached out, my fingers fumbling with the cool metal of his belt buckle, urgency thrumming through me, when his much larger hand settled firmly over mine.
“Honey, no.” His voice was rough, ragged with need, but steady. “Not here.”
I froze, breath sawing in and out of my chest as reality came crashing back in. The dim hallway. The muted hum of conversation and clink of silverware filtered in from the dining room. My father. His brother. Senator Rafferty.
God, what had I been thinking?
Mortification burned through me, flooding my cheeks as I tore my gaze from the broad chest. I was so caught up in my want for him I’d forgotten—completely, stupidly forgotten—that we weren’t alone. We were in a restaurant, for fuck’s sake!
Gage’s grip on my fingers loosened, but he didn’t step away. His body still caged mine, his scent still wrapped around me, his eyes dark and hungry as they burned into mine. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “How quickly can you get away?”
I smoothed the front of his shirt with a trembling hand, then caught the edge of his collar between my fingers, giving it the faintest tug before releasing him. “If you’re not in my driveway in thirty minutes, I’m going to be very put out.”
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
I slipped out from under his arm, forcing my legs to carry me down the hall. By the time I reached the dining room, my pulse had slowed enough for me to paste on the cool, composed smile my father expected to see. He couldn’t ever know what had just happened … or what was about to happen next.