Chapter 18
Skye
He wastes no time taking my hand and pulling me along the path to the guest house. Once inside, he closes and locks the door behind us, our safe bubble back again.
The moment the door is closed, he's backing me up against it. His mouth finds mine, hot and demanding, while his hands slide up my arms and pin my wrists above my head. I arch against him, desperate for more contact. The mask still covers half his face, making him mysterious even now, even here.
"I've wanted you from the moment I saw you tonight," he breathes against my neck, releasing one of my wrists to trace down my arm and my side, finding the curve of my hip. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"
“I can feel exactly what I do to you.” My free hand reaches for his mask, but he catches it.
"Not yet," he says, voice husky. "Let's stay someone else a little longer."
There's something freeing about the anonymity, about being hidden even as we're exposed.
I get it. It's the last shield. With the masks on, we can pretend we don't have to face this huge moment that shouldn't be happening.
He's still the stranger from the party, but the moment the masks come off, it's real.
I nod, and he rewards me with another searing kiss that leaves me dizzy. His hands explore, pulling moans from deep within my chest.
His hands find the zipper at the back of my dress, fingers trailing down my spine as he slowly drags it down. The fabric pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but the matching red lace lingerie set he chose. His sharp intake of breath makes heat bloom across my skin.
"Perfect," he murmurs, hands skimming over the delicate lace. "I knew you'd be exquisite."
I reach for his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. He lets me this time, helping me with the buttons of his shirt until his chest is bare beneath my palms. Even with the mask, I memorize every line of muscle, every place that makes him groan when I touch it.
He lifts me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me toward the bedroom.
My back hits the mattress, his weight settling over me like a promise.
The mask hides most of his face, but his eyes, God, his eyes, burn through me, making my breath catch.
His hands slide up my sides, fingertips tracing the edge of my bra.
"I want to taste every inch of you," he whispers, voice rough with need. "Tell me I can."
"Please," I breathe, arching into his touch.
He dips his head, pressing hot kisses along my collarbone, down to the swell of my breasts. His tongue traces the lace edge of my bra before he reaches behind me, unfastening it with practiced ease. The cool air hits my skin as he draws the fabric away, his gaze devouring me.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, cupping one breast, thumb circling my nipple until it peaks. "So fucking beautiful."
His mouth follows the path his hands have traced, tongue flicking over my nipple before he takes it between his lips. I gasp, my back arching off the bed as pleasure shoots straight to my core. His free hand slides down my stomach, fingers dancing along the waistband of my panties.
"These need to go," he growls against my skin, hooking his fingers in the lace and pulling them down my legs with deliberate slowness. His eyes never leave mine, even behind the mask, watching every reaction as he bares me completely.
Now I'm completely naked beneath him while he's still wearing his dress pants. The contrast makes me feel exposed and wanted all at once. He sits back on his heels, drinking me in with his gaze.
"Spread your legs for me," he commands, voice deep with desire.
I obey, heart hammering as I expose myself completely to him. Though his mask is on, I can see his eyes darken, his chest rising and falling faster.
"I've dreamed about this," he says, running his hands up my inner thighs. "Seeing you like this again. Open and waiting for me."
The first touch of his tongue against my center has me gasping, fingers clutching at the sheets. He groans against me. The vibration sends shockwaves through my body. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he explores with deliberate, torturous precision.
"Oh God," I moan, my head falling back against the pillows. The mask makes every sensation more intense, like I can focus on nothing but the feel of his mouth on me. He alternates between gentle licks and firm pressure, reading my body like he's studied it for years.
When he slides one finger inside me, I cry out, my hips bucking against his mouth. He adds another, curling them just right while his tongue works my clit. The dual sensation has me spiraling, every nerve ending on fire.
"That's it," he murmurs against me. "Let me hear you."
I'm trembling, so close to the edge I can barely breathe. His fingers pump in and out while his tongue circles relentlessly. I'm so close, teetering on the edge, when he suddenly stops and pulls away.
"Not yet," he says, ignoring my whimper of protest. "I want to feel you come around me."
He stands to remove his remaining clothes, and even in the dim light, I can see how much he wants me. When he settles between my thighs again, and the weight of him presses against my entrance, we both freeze for a moment.
Over the summer, after we were both tested, we stopped using condoms. I'd been on the pill for years, but it still felt like a big step. Now, in this moment, I'm so glad we made that decision because I want to feel him in me with nothing between us.
"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.
I nod, reaching up to cup his face through the mask. "I've never been more sure of anything."
He pushes into me slowly, both of us groaning at the sensation. He's bigger than I remembered, stretching me perfectly as he fills me completely. For a moment we stay still, foreheads touching, breathing each other's air.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, his forehead resting against mine. "Better than I remember."
Then he moves, and I'm lost in sensation. Each thrust is deliberate, controlled, like he's memorizing every reaction, every gasp that falls from my lips. His hips roll against mine in a rhythm that has me clinging to his shoulders, nails digging into skin.
"Look at me," he commands, voice strained with restraint.
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze through our masks. There's something unbearably intimate about it, more vulnerable than our naked bodies joined together. His rhythm falters for just a moment, as if he's as affected by the connection as I am.
"Gage," I moan, breathless.
He lowers his head to my neck, teeth grazing my skin. "Say it again." At the club, it was always Sir, now with his name? It's so much more personal.
"Gage," I breathe again, his name a prayer on my lips.
His hips snap forward, pace quickening, as he groans against my neck. "I love how you say my name."
The confession makes something bloom in my chest, warm and aching. I wrap my legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.
"I want to see your face when you come," he says, shifting and lightly running his fingers down my mask.
Reaching up, my hands tremble slightly as I trace the edges of his mask. "Together," I whisper.
He nods, his rhythm never faltering as our fingers work in tandem, lifting the barriers between us. The masks fall away, and suddenly it's just us, Gage and Skye, naked in every sense. His eyes, no longer shadowed, burn into mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
"There you are," he whispers, cupping my face with one hand. "Beautiful."
His expression is raw, vulnerable in a way I've never seen before. His hips still as he stares down at me, something shifting in his gaze.
"I've missed your face," he murmurs, tracing my cheek with his thumb.
The words hit me like a physical blow, tender and devastating. I reach up to touch his face, my fingers mapping the sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners when he looks at me like this.
"I've missed you too," I whisper back, the admission cracking something open inside my chest.
He moves again, slower now, deeper, his gaze never leaving mine. Without the masks, every expression is laid bare, the way his breath catches when I arch beneath him, the way his eyes flutter closed when I clench around him, and the way he bites his lip to keep from making sound.
"I can't get enough of you," he says, roughly. "I've tried to stay away, tried to be responsible, but…"
"Don't," I interrupt, pulling him down for a kiss. "Don't think about that. Not tonight."
He groans into my mouth, the kiss desperate and consuming. His pace quickens again, each thrust hitting exactly where I need him.
"You're so perfect," he breathes as he breaks the kiss, his thumb still stroking my cheek. "So fucking perfect for me."
The familiar tension builds low in my belly, every nerve ending sparking.
"I'm close," I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
His hand slides between us, thumb finding my clit and circling with just the right pressure. "Come for me, Skye. I want to feel you."
The combination of his thumb and the way he's hitting that perfect spot inside me sends me over the edge. I cry out his name, my back arching as waves of pleasure crash through me. He doesn't stop, working me through every pulse and tremor until I'm shaking beneath him.
"That's it," he growls, his own control fraying as I clench around him. "God, you're so beautiful when you come."
His rhythm becomes erratic, desperate. I can see he's close in the way his jaw tightens, the way his breathing becomes ragged. I pull him down for another kiss, pouring everything I can't say into it.
"Come for me," I whisper against his lips, echoing his words back to him.
With a low groan, he buries himself deep and falls apart, his whole body tensing as he finds his release.
I hold him through it, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist, keeping him close as he pulses inside me.
For several long moments, we stay like that, his forehead pressed against mine, our breathing gradually slowing.
"Fuck," he whispers, voice raw. His weight settles fully against me, a delicious pressure that grounds me in this moment.
When he finally rolls to his side, he takes me with him, keeping us connected. His fingers trace idle patterns on my back as we face each other, masks discarded, nothing left to hide behind.
"That was..." he trails off, searching for words.
"I know," I say, because I do. It was more than just sex. It was acknowledgment, surrender, maybe even a beginning.
His eyes search mine, vulnerability flickering across his face.
"Stay," I whisper before I can stop myself.
His eyes search mine, something soft and surprised flickering across his face. "Are you sure?"
I nod, running my fingers through his hair. "Please."
He tucks me against his chest, our legs tangled together. His heartbeat pounds steadily under my ear, gradually slowing as we lie in comfortable silence. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare back, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.
For the first time in months, I let myself relax completely. His arms around me feel like home and danger all at once. I trace small circles on his chest, marveling at how natural this feels despite everything that makes it impossible.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks, voice drowsy.
"How this feels too good to be temporary," I admit before I can stop myself.
His hand stills on my back. I tense, waiting for him to pull away, to remind me of all the reasons this can't work. Instead, his arms tighten around me.
"I know," he says quietly. "I've been trying to convince myself this is just physical, but..."
"But?"
He's quiet for so long I think he won't answer. "But I think about you when I'm grading papers. I think about you when I'm making coffee in the morning. I think about you when I hear a song that reminds me of our nights at Club Red. It's not just physical, Skye. It hasn't been for a long time."
My heart hammers against my ribs. I prop myself up on my elbow to look at him, searching his face for any sign he's just saying what I want to hear. His eyes are clear, unguarded in a way I've never seen before.
"I know it's complicated," he continues, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I know there are a million reasons why we shouldn't do this. But when I'm with you, those reasons don't seem to matter as much. I don't want to stop."
"I don't want to stop either," I whisper, the confession both terrifying and freeing.
"But I'm scared, Gage. Of what happens if we're caught.
Of what happens when the semester ends and I'm not your student anymore.
What if this is just forbidden fruit syndrome and once it's allowed, it loses its appeal? "
He cups my face, thumb brushing my lower lip. "Do you really believe that? That I only want you because I shouldn't?"
I hesitate, searching his eyes. "I don't know because I've never had someone like you want me before."
"Someone like me?"
"Someone who could have anyone. Someone successful and brilliant and experienced."
His laugh is soft, almost sad. "You think I'm some kind of prize?
Skye, I'm a thirty-four-year-old professor who lives for his work and hasn't had a relationship last longer than six months since high school.
You're the prize. You're brilliant and beautiful, and when you're in a room, I can't look anywhere else. "
I lean down to kiss him soft and lingering. When I pull back, his eyes are dark, intense.
"I want this," I admit. "I want you. Not just tonight, not just until the semester ends. I want to see where this goes."
He sits up, bringing me with him until I'm straddling his lap, our faces level. His hands cup my waist, warm and steady.
"Then let's figure it out," he says. "Together."
"What happens tomorrow?" I ask, voice barely audible.
He sighs, pulling me closer. "Tomorrow, we go back to being careful. We pretend in public. We keep our distance in class." His fingers trace the curve of my spine. "But after hours? We find ways to be together. Quietly. Carefully. Until the semester ends and we don't have to hide anymore."
"And if we get caught?"
His jaw tightens. "We won't. I won't let anything happen to you, Skye. Your future is too important."
The weight of what we're risking settles between us. My academic career, his job, both our reputations. But looking into his eyes, feeling his hands on my skin, I can't bring myself to care about the consequences.
"I trust you," I whisper.
I don't know what happens next.
But I know I trust him.
And right now, that's enough.