Chapter 34
Gage
She hasn't said a word.
Not in the lobby, not when we stepped outside into the night air, not even when I opened the car door for her and she slid into the passenger seat with a small, polite smile that didn't reach her eyes.
And now we're driving through the city, and my hands are sweating on the steering wheel.
What if I pushed too hard?
What if I misread the moment, the way her eyes lit up when Stephen offered her the spa? The way she took the contract as if she was ready to conquer the world?
But maybe she wasn't ready. Maybe I put her on the spot. Maybe this was too much.
The lights from the city dance across her face as we stop at a red light. Her profile is calm, composed, almost too still. Like she's bracing herself.
I clear my throat, fingers flexing against the leather grip of the steering wheel.
She still doesn't look at me.
I glance over again, trying to read her expression. Her hands are in her lap, and she’s still holding the contract. She's not fidgeting or tense.
But she's not relaxed either.
And fuck, I hate this. I hate not knowing what's going through her head.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but the words get stuck behind the growing lump in my throat.
The light turns green, so I just drive.
By the time we turn onto the main road toward the restaurant, I'm chewing the inside of my cheek. The confidence I felt back in that office is gone, replaced by a slow-creeping dread.
"Take me home," she says quietly.
My stomach drops.
I flick my eyes to her again, heart slamming in my chest. "Skye…"
She reaches out, her hand soft on my forearm. “Let's go to your place and order in."
Relief hits me so hard I nearly miss the turn.
"Yeah," I say, adjusting the wheel. "Of course."
I keep my eyes on the road, trying not to let the surge of emotion show too much. Still, part of me stays on edge. She hasn't explained what she's thinking, and I know better than to assume. When she goes quiet like this, it's never nothing.
Not to mention, she hasn't been to my place outside of checking on me the day I resigned. We've always stayed at her place. I want to hope it's a good thing, a step in the right direction. But Skye can always surprise me, so I don't know.
We pull into our neighborhood, and I park the car, heart still beating like I've run five miles. She doesn't wait for me to open her door. She steps out, heels clicking softly on the cement driveway, and goes toward the front door. I follow, keys still in hand, completely unsure what to expect.
The moment the door shuts behind us, she turns.
Before I can say anything, she grabs my hand and pulls me to the living room. I stumble slightly, startled.
"Skye…"
She doesn't let me finish.
She pushes me down onto the couch with both hands, firm and determined, and then climbs into my lap like she owns the space.
And maybe she does.
Her legs straddle me, dress riding high, her hands coming up to cup my face.
"That," she says, her eyes blazing now, all fire and emotion and everything I couldn't read in the car, "was the most incredible thing anyone has ever done for me."
My mouth parts, but she leans in before I can speak, kissing me like she's been holding it in for hours.
I groan into her mouth, arms wrapping around her automatically, anchoring her to me. She tastes like heat and sweetness, setting my blood on fire from the inside out.
She pulls back just enough to look at me.
"You scared me," I say, throat thick.
"I didn't know what to say," she admits, voice softer now. "I was overwhelmed. Still am. But not in a bad way."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "You had me sweating bullets, you know that?"
She smiles, fingers brushing through the hair at the back of my head. "Good. You deserve to sweat a little."
I laugh, the tension finally breaking.
Her smile widens, but there's vulnerability in her eyes as she shifts in my lap. "You really think I can do this? Run an entire spa?"
"I know you can," I say without hesitation, hands settling on her hips. "You've been running the place you work at in all but name."
She bites her lower lip, gaze dropping to the space between us. The contract sits on the coffee table, where she must have set it when we came in. I watch her stare at it, her fingers playing absently with the collar of my shirt.
"It's just..." she starts, then pauses. "What if I fail?"
"Then you fail," I say, and her eyes snap up to mine. "And I'll be right here. But I know you won't."
She studies my face as if she's looking for something specific.
"How can you be so sure?" she whispers, and there's a tremble in her voice I rarely hear.
I cup her face in my hands, making sure she can't look away. "Because I've watched you for months, Skye. I've seen how you handle clients, how you manage the staff, and how you solve problems no one else can touch. You were born for this."
She exhales slowly, her shoulders dropping a fraction. "I can't believe Stephen just... handed me a business. Who does that?"
"Someone who recognizes talent when he sees it." I brush my thumb across her cheekbone. "Someone who knows a good investment when it's right in front of him."
Her lips quirk up at the corners. "Is that what I am? An investment?"
"To him? Yes." I pull her closer until our foreheads touch. "To me? You're everything."
Her breath catches, and I feel the shift in her body, the way she melts into me at those words.
"Gage," she whispers, and then she's kissing me again, deeper this time, with a hunger that makes my head spin. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling slightly, and I groan against her mouth.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard. She rests her forehead against mine, eyes closed.
My hands slide up her back, fingers finding the zipper of her dress. Her hips shift, rolling against me, and every coherent thought I had vanishes.
"Wait," I breathe, hands stilling on her zipper. "Are you sure? Tonight's been intense, and I don't want you to think…"
She silences me with a finger pressed to my lips, her eyes opening to meet mine. "I'm sure. I need this. I need you."
The raw honesty in her voice undoes me completely. I search her face one more time, finding nothing but desire and trust staring back at me.
"Skye," I murmur, but it comes out like a prayer. A plea. A promise.
She kisses along my jaw, her breath hot against my skin. "I don't want dinner."
"No?"
She shakes her head. "I want you."
The confession hangs between us, soft but charged, until I reach for her dress. Then, I pull the zipper down slowly, my fingers trailing along her spine as the fabric parts. She shivers at my touch, her back arching slightly as the dress loosens around her shoulders.
"Stand up," I say softly, my voice rougher than I intended.
She slides off my lap, standing between my knees. The dress pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but black lace that makes my mouth go dry. She's stunning, all curves and soft skin that I want to map with my hands, my mouth.
"You're staring," she says, but there's no self-consciousness in her voice. Just heat.
"Can't help it." I reach for her, hands settling on her hips, thumbs tracing the edge of her underwear. "You're perfect."
She steps closer, her fingers working at the buttons of my shirt. "Your turn."
I let her undress me, watching her face as she concentrates on each button. There's something intensely intimate about it, more so than what's about to happen. The care she takes, the small furrow between her brows, the way her fingertips brush against my chest as she works her way down.
When she pushes the shirt off my shoulders, her hands linger, tracing the lines of my collarbones, my shoulders, and down to my biceps. I stay still, letting her explore, even though every touch is like a match to gasoline.
"I wasn't just overwhelmed about the spa," she confesses quietly, eyes following her fingers as they trail down to my chest. "I was overwhelmed by you. What you did for me."
I catch her wrist, bringing her palm to rest over my heart. "I'd do anything for you, Skye. Anything."
Her eyes meet mine, dark and vulnerable in a way I've never seen before. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising with it, and I feel something shift between us, and it’s fundamental and irreversible.
"I know," she whispers.
That's all it takes. My hands are skimming up her thighs, memorizing every inch.
Her skin is warm silk under my palms, and when I hook my fingers in the lace at her hips, she doesn't hesitate. She lets me pull them down, stepping out of them gracefully.
"Come here," I murmur, guiding her back to straddle me as I sit back on the couch. She settles over me, her hands braced on my shoulders, and I can feel her trembling slightly. Not from nerves, but from want.
"Tell me what you need," I say against her throat, pressing soft kisses there.
"Just you," she breathes, her hips rolling against mine in a way that makes me see stars. "Always just you."
I lift her slightly, positioning myself, and when she sinks down onto me, we both go perfectly still. The sensation is overwhelming. She's so tight, so perfect around me that I have to close my eyes for a moment to regain control.
"Open your eyes," she whispers, cupping my face. "Look at me."
I do, and what I see nearly stops my heart. There's no shield, no wall, nothing but raw emotion in her gaze as she moves. Slow, deliberate rise and fall that has my fingers digging into her hips.
"Fuck," I breathe, watching where our bodies join. "You're incredible."
She smiles, that rare, unguarded smile that transforms her face, and picks up the pace. Her hands move to my shoulders for leverage, nails digging in just enough to send sparks down my spine.
I slide one hand between us, finding the spot where she needs me most, and her rhythm falters.
Her head drops back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, and I can't resist leaning forward to taste her skin. She tastes like salt and a flavor that’s uniquely her.
When I find the sensitive spot at the base of her neck, she gasps my name.
"Gage," she moans, and the sound goes straight through me. Her movements become more urgent, more desperate, and I match her rhythm with my fingers, circling and pressing until she's trembling against me.
"That's it," I murmur against her collarbone. "Let go for me."
She shakes her head, stubborn even now. "Not without you."
I love how she fights for control, even when she's falling apart. I shift my hips, angling deeper, and her breath catches. Her eyes flutter shut, but she forces them open again, holding my gaze as she moves.
"Together," she whispers.
The word undoes me completely. I surge up to meet her, my hands gripping her hips as I drive deeper. Her mouth falls open on a silent cry, and I feel her tighten around me, her whole body going taut.
"Now," I growl, my thumb pressing harder against her clit. "Come for me now."
She breaks with a sharp cry, her body convulsing around me as waves of pleasure crash over her. The sight of her falling apart, the way she says my name like a prayer, sends me over the edge with her. I bury my face in her neck, holding her tight as I empty myself inside her.
For a long moment, we stay like that, breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other. She's limp in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder, and I stroke her hair gently as we both come down.
"Jesus," she whispers. "I think you broke me."
I laugh softly, my hands still moving in lazy patterns across her back. "Pretty sure you broke me first."
She hums, a satisfied sound that vibrates through both our bodies. We stay connected, neither of us willing to move yet, our breathing gradually syncing up in the quiet of my living room.
Her head rests on my shoulder, and I run my fingers through her hair, breathing her in.
And I know, without a doubt, that this? This is exactly where we're meant to be.