28. Gage
Gage
T he cottage was quiet when I got home from my evening walk with Billie, but my mind was anything but peaceful.
We'd been official for a week now. A week of stolen kisses and held hands and the kind of domestic intimacy that made my chest tight with happiness.
But underneath it all was a growing tension, a need that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.
I wanted her. Not just the sweet kisses goodnight or the careful embraces when we thought no one was looking. I wanted all of her. Her body, her heart, her trust, her future. I wanted to wake up next to her and fall asleep holding her and spend lazy Sunday mornings learning every inch of her skin.
But we'd agreed to take things slowly, and I was determined to honor that even if it killed me. And right now, it was definitely killing me.
My phone buzzed with a text: Can't sleep. Are you awake? - B
I smiled despite my restless mood. Wide awake. What's wrong?
My phone buzzed with a text: Outside in my car. Can you come out? - B
I looked out the cottage window and saw her Honda parked by the gate, headlights still on in the darkness. My heart started racing as I grabbed a jacket and headed outside.
She rolled down her window as I approached, and I could see she was still wearing the dress from dinner, her hair slightly mussed like she'd been running her hands through it.
"Hey," I said, leaning down to the window. "Everything okay?"
"I've been sitting in my aunt's driveway for twenty minutes," she said, her voice quiet but determined. "Thinking about tonight, about what you said earlier."
"About being yours?"
"About not pretending anymore." She looked up at me, and there was something different in her eyes. A decision, maybe, or a kind of surrender. "I don't want to go home and lie in bed thinking about what-ifs. I don't want to wake up tomorrow wondering if I was brave enough."
"Brave enough for what?"
"To tell you that I don't want to take things slowly anymore." She took a shaky breath. "I want to stop protecting myself from something I actually want. I want you, Gage. All of you. Tonight."
My chest went tight with emotion and desire and disbelief all tangled together. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." She opened the car door. "Your place or mine?"
"Mine," I said immediately. The cottage might be small and temporary, but at least we'd have privacy without worrying about waking her aunt.
"Good," she said, getting out of the car. "Because I've been thinking about this for weeks, and I don't want to wait anymore."
When she kissed me there in the moonlight beside her car, it wasn't with the careful sweetness we'd been sharing. This was hungry and desperate and full of weeks of suppressed longing. I groaned against her mouth and pulled her closer, my hands tangling in her hair as I deepened the kiss.
She tasted like wine from dinner and promises, and when she pressed her body against mine, I felt something fundamental shift in my chest. This wasn't just desire, though there was plenty of that. This was recognition. This was coming home.
"Are you absolutely sure?" I asked when we broke apart, both of us breathing hard. "Because once we do this..."
"Once we do this, we'll finally stop torturing ourselves with what-ifs," she finished. "Yes, I'm sure. Are you?"
Instead of answering with words, I swept her up in my arms, making her laugh with surprise and delight as I carried her toward the cottage. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder, and I could feel her smile against my skin.
Inside the cottage, everything felt different.
The small space that had become my sanctuary suddenly thrummed with possibility, with the weight of what we were finally allowing ourselves to have.
I set Billie down gently beside my bed, my hands settling on her waist as I searched her face for any sign of doubt.
"Are you absolutely sure?" I asked, my voice rougher than I'd intended. "Because once we cross this line..."
"We can't go back," she finished, her voice steady. "I know. And I don't want to go back, Gage. I want to go forward. With you."
I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones, marveling at how soft her skin was. "I love you so much it terrifies me."
"Then be terrified with me," she whispered, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss me.
This kiss shattered every careful restraint I'd been holding onto. I tangled my hands in her hair, pulling her closer as she pressed against me, all softness and warmth and perfect curves that fit against my body like they'd been designed for me.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, I rested my forehead against hers, trying to catch my breath and my sanity.
"I want to do this right," I said quietly. "I want to take my time with you, show you how much you mean to me."
"We have all night," she said, her fingers finding the buttons of my shirt. "All the time in the world."
Her hands were gentle as she undressed me, mapping the changes the years had brought to my body.
I'd been self-conscious about the scars, the way my shoulders had broadened with construction work, the fact that I wasn't the skinny teenager she'd once known.
But the way she looked at me, like I was something beautiful and precious, made all those insecurities disappear.
When her fingers traced the faded scar on my ribs from the accident, I caught her hand.
"Not exactly the body you remember," I said, uncertainty creeping into my voice despite her obvious acceptance.
"No," she agreed, and my heart stuttered until she pressed a soft kiss to the mark. "It's better. It's real. It's survived."
Her words broke something loose in my chest, and I had to close my eyes for a moment against the overwhelming emotion. When I opened them again, she was watching me with such love and understanding that I thought I might come undone before we'd even really started.
I returned the favor, taking my time removing each piece of her clothing, my hands learning the curve of her waist, the soft skin of her shoulders, the way she shivered when I kissed that sensitive spot where her neck met her collarbone.
She was more beautiful than I'd dreamed during all those lonely nights over the past eleven years.
"You're perfect," I murmured against her throat, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my lips.
When we finally came together on my narrow bed, skin against skin, I had to pause just to breathe.
The sensation was overwhelming—not just the physical perfection of her body against mine, but the emotional weight of it.
This was Billie. My Billie. The woman I'd loved since I was twelve and never stopped loving, even when I'd convinced myself I had to.
"Look at me," I said as I settled between her thighs, bracing my weight on my forearms so I could see her face. "I want to see your eyes when we do this."
Her blue eyes were dark with desire and something that looked like wonder as she looked up at me. "I'm here," she said softly. "I'm with you."
When I entered her slowly, carefully, watching her face for any sign of discomfort, we both went perfectly still. The sensation was incredible. Heat and pressure and a rightness that made my chest tight with emotion. She felt like home, like everything I'd been searching for without knowing it.
"God, Billie," I breathed, fighting the urge to move, to take what I wanted. "You feel like heaven."
"So do you," she whispered, wrapping her legs around my waist to pull me deeper.
I started moving slowly, savoring every sensation, every soft sound she made, every way her body responded to mine. Her hands traced patterns on my back, her nails digging in when I found an angle that made her breath catch and her back arch beneath me.
"More," she whispered against my ear, her voice breathless and needy. "I need more."
I shifted my position, driving deeper, and the sound she made, half moan, half prayer, nearly shattered my control completely.
"Like that?" I asked, doing it again, watching her face as pleasure washed over her features.
"Yes," she gasped, her head falling back against the pillow, exposing the long line of her throat. "Just like that."
I could feel her getting closer, could see it in the flush that spread across her chest, in the way her breathing became ragged and desperate.
I wanted to watch her fall apart in my arms, wanted to be the one to give her that kind of pleasure, to make her forget everything except my name and the way I was making her feel.
"Let go," I murmured, pressing kisses along her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. "I've got you. I'll always have you."
When she came, it was with my name on her lips and her body arching beneath mine, her inner muscles tightening around me in waves that threatened to pull me over the edge with her. The sight of her lost in pleasure, the feel of her responding to me so completely, sent my own control spiraling away.
I buried my face in her neck as my release crashed through me, her name a broken prayer against her skin as I poured everything I had into her—eleven years of longing, of regret, of love I'd never been able to forget.
Afterward, we lay tangled together in the moonlit darkness, both of us breathing hard and slightly stunned by the intensity of what we'd shared. I could feel her heart beating against my chest, could smell her perfume mixed with the musky scent of our lovemaking.
"That was..." I started, then trailed off, not sure any words could capture what I was feeling.
"Perfect," she finished, her voice soft and satisfied as she traced lazy circles on my chest. "That was perfect."
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. "No regrets?"
She lifted her head to look at me, and the smile on her face was radiant, transforming her entire expression. "Not a single one. You?"
"Only that we waited this long," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
I tightened my arms around her, still hardly believing this was real. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and find out this was all a dream."
"Not a dream," she said, pressing a kiss to my chest. "Very real. And I've been dreaming about our future, Gage. Actually dreaming about it."
"Tell me," I said, my voice rough with emotion.
"Lazy Sunday mornings in bed. Coffee on the porch of that house you're fixing up. Maybe a dog. A big, slobbery one who thinks he's a lapdog." She paused, her voice growing softer. "Eventually, maybe babies. Someday, when we're ready."
The mention of children made my chest go tight with emotion. The idea of Billie carrying my child, of building a family together, was almost too wonderful to contemplate.
"You want that? Kids, I mean?"
"With you? Yes." She looked up at me, her eyes serious. "But not yet. Not until we've had time to just be us for a while."
"How long?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
"Ask me again next summer," she said softly. "When we've had time to prove to ourselves that this is real, that it's lasting."
Next summer felt like both forever and no time at all. But I understood what she was asking for. Proof that this time was different, that I was different, that we could build something solid and lasting together.
"Next summer," I agreed, already planning how I was going to spend every day between now and then showing her that she could trust me with her heart. "But Billie?"
"Yeah?"
"I already know what my answer's going to be."
She smiled and kissed my chest, right over my heart. "We'll see."