Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

“I assumeyou’ve been introduced to s’mores.”

And just when I thought this date couldn’t get any more perfect.

“No!” I beam at Gage. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never tried them.” I push myself upright from where I’ve been sprawled on the picnic blanket after our incredible supper.

Gage looks pleased with himself. “I was hoping they’d be new for you.” He pulls out a bag of marshmallows and skewers, and then he fiddles around with his camp stove again to turn it on.

“All of this is new for me,” I tell him softly, watching him open up the graham crackers and chocolate bars. “Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

It makes my throat go tight just to think about it.

Gage could have gotten down and dirty with me a dozen times, and he hasn’t. And not because the chemistry isn’t there. I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve made eye contact and then gotten lost in each other’s eyes.

But he’s been holding back, and now I know why. He wants me to know that he values me for more than my nonexistent gag reflex and freakishly flexible hips, or all the little tricks I learned so I could forget my loneliness with mediocre men.

Gage wants to romance me.

“I’m sorry they haven’t. But I’m really glad I get to,” Gage says softly. “Because nobody’s ever done what you’ve already done for me, either. Here. Take this.”

“Are you sure?” I giggle as I grab the skewer he’s offering up, handle-first.

“Don’t point it at me and we’ll be fine.” Gage winks. “Now, put a marshmallow—Kieran.”

“Whoops,” I cough sheepishly, lowering the point again. How long did that take, half a second? “Pointy end down.”

“Pretend it’s flaccid, if that’s easier.”

I burst out laughing so hard that I double over, and Gage has to grab my shoulder to keep me from burning my eyebrows off on the camp stove.

“You are a walking disaster,” he says, but I can’t miss the fondness in his voice. “Now, preferably you put the marshmallow in the camp stove and not your face.”

“I’ll do my best,” I promise him, scooting a little closer so our shoulders can brush as we sit here together.

It feels good to touch him.

I can hear his breath catch in his throat. His gaze flickers toward me, and then, suddenly, neither of us can look away again…

Until I’m holding a flaming torch, that is.

“Gage…!” I shriek.

He grabs it from me and leans in, blowing once on it—hard. “There,” he tells me as the flame goes out. “Now, hold that again…”

“The marshmallow. We’re gonna lose the marshmallow, Gage!” I raise the skewer—this time, pointing it away from us both—as if that will help keep the blackened marshmallow shell from slipping right off.

But Gage is there with a graham cracker, waiting to catch it. He even manages to nudge the rest of the marshmallow onto the cracker, and then adds a square of chocolate before dramatically laying one more graham cracker on top.

“Voila. Your first s’more!” he tells me, sounding so excited that I feel like a dick pointing out the obvious.

Has he forgotten the scorched, blackened shell of a marshmallow in that thing?

“Uh…” The inside of the marshmallow is leaking out now, turning into a delicious vanilla goo. I just gotta pray that that makes up for the extra carbon.

I take a deep breath, take a bite… and then I frown.

Whoa.

Okay. That’s actually really good.

But even better than my first bite of s’more is the sound of Gage’s laughter. “Told you so.”

I’d eat a piece of coal if it meant getting to enjoy the rich, warm roll of his laughter vibrating through his chest—and my arm, pressing against his shoulder.

The s’more disappears before I know it. Gage finishes his own s’more while I lick my fingers clean, and then I shake my head as I watch him eat it.

His lips are sticky, and so are his fingers. And I get to watch his tongue swiping across his lips over and over to gather every last bit of chocolate and sugar.

Oh, my god. I’m going to die of thirst.

“Well?” Gage asks me around a mouthful, and even that doesn’t turn me off, so I must be really into him.

“That was incredible,” I admit. “You can do more with a camp stove than I can do in my kitchen. Shit. And I’m the one working in a restaurant. Are we in the wrong jobs?”

He swallows the last bite and snorts. “Hell, no. Some faces were made to be the face of the company. Some were made to work in the orchard.”

“Hard disagree,” I tell him with a snort. “Don’t put yourself down, handsome. You could hold a spotlight.”

Gage sits up a little straighter at the compliment. “Thank you. But I’ve never wanted a spotlight. That’s why I went into marketing, before I came back here.”

“Mm?” I jam another marshmallow onto my skewer as we talk.

“I wanted to learn how to turn the spotlight on the people around me—the people who actually want to be in it. The guy behind the spotlight can’t get caught up in it, right?”

He couldn’t be more the opposite of me if he tried.

“That, and… it’s what my great-grandfather did for the last ten years of his career,” he adds, like it’s an afterthought, suddenly staring through the trees like he’s trying to glimpse the sunset over the harbour beyond. “Marketing for the breweries that beat him and closed us down.”

Well, now I want to cry.

I bring the marshmallow away from the flames—this time, managing to keep it golden but not blackened—and lean into Gage like I’m trying to prop him upright. “That’s so sad, Gage. I’m sorry.”

Gage just shrugs and clears his throat. “Beer was already winning over cider when they moved here. They knew the writing was on the wall. You can’t push a boulder uphill.”

I shake my head. “But you can wait until the customers get all the way over the mountain and pass you by, and then let go.”

“And kill them all?” Gage squints at me. “I’m worried about this business model.”

The corner of his lips twitches as I laugh. “The boulder is lightweight, like… a bubble. A rainbow, feel-good bubble.”

“I’m making cider, not unicorn farts.”

This time, I manage to lean backward so I don’t faceplant in the stove while I laugh my ass off.

He really deserves everything—and I wish I could give it to him. But all I can give him is… well, everything I have.

“Okay,” I tell him at last, now that I can breathe again. “Okay. I’ll work with you.”

Gage stops and stares at me, a slow grin forming on his face.

“Until the festival,” I add hastily. “I landed you in this mess. I’ll help you pull it off with more flying colours than a unicorn fart.”

But Gage doesn’t laugh. He just watches me with such an earnest expression that my chest aches all over again. “Really?”

“Really,” I promise, setting down my skewer to take one of his big hands in both of mine. “I’ve got you.”

Gage clears his throat. Then he does it again, and my throat goes tight as the world blurs a little around me. He sweeps me into a hug—so tight I almost can’t breathe.

And then he kisses me, soft and sweet and playful, until the tears are forgotten and we’re tumbling against each other, giggling like we’re on the inside of this perfect joke that nobody else will ever understand.

“You might be good at making messes, but I’m good at cleaning them up,” Gage tells me. “Besides, Mother Nature loves a mess.”

“I prefer to think of it as controlled chaos, thank you very much,” I tell him, raising my chin for a sassy little head tilt. “Not that I can be controlled.” I wink at him. “But I’ll let you boss me around sometimes, to balance things out.”

Nervous sparks of excitement rush through me as I wait for his reaction.

Gage’s eyes flash, dark and hungry. He lifts his chin and tilts his head to one side slightly, and then he reaches out to turn off the camp stove.

Then, Gage raises his last s’more to his lips and takes a slow, sensual bite. And I’m spellbound, my lips parted as I breathlessly watch gooey marshmallow and melted chocolate sliding down his fingertips.

He finishes his s’more, and without even saying a word, he raises his hand toward me. An invitation, but more than that… a command that I want to fall over myself to obey.

Holy fuck.

I sink back onto my heels and half-close my eyes, grabbing his wrist like he’s offering me the first drink of water after an endless desert.

And he might well be.

Finally, finally, finally…!

I’m dizzy with excitement, but I don’t want to rush. There’s too much on the line. Not just our present, but the past—and, more than that, the future.

So I slow myself down, slowly closing my lips around the tip of his index finger. I suck my cheeks in gently, swirling my tongue around his finger as I take it into my mouth a little at a time.

He twists his hand palm-up as I come back up and bob my head down again, and when I peek through my lashes, there’s the tiniest little smile on his lips.

I’m transfixed.

How is he so bloody hot?

I want him to take charge of this moment, so I let go of his wrist and rest my palms on my thighs instead, staying obediently still.

He pulls one finger out, already pushing the next between my lips. I’m eagerly sucking and licking him clean, preparing for the next and the next…

When I’ve finally licked all his fingers clean, I pause to wait. I’m half-expecting him to shove two or three fingers back in my mouth and tell me that I’m going to be a good little slut for him…

But he’s not saying anything yet.

God, I hope he liked that as much as I did, or this is gonna be awkward.

I peek through my lashes, opening my eyes slowly to look up at him, my hands still on my thighs.

Oh, fuck. Gage’s cheeks are flushed ruddy red. There’s a rough catch in the back of his throat with every heavy breath, and his eyes are even more intensely focused than they were a minute ago.

I flick my eyes down his body, right to the bulge that’s newly formed in his jeans, and then back up to his face.

He did like it, then.

“Come here,” Gage tells me.

Fuck. That voice. I’ve been dreaming of him talking to me like that, in a soft, possessive growl…

I moan, practically flinging myself onto Gage as he shifts his weight to lie back on the picnic blanket. He catches me by the hips, holding me upright as I sway, straddling his muscled thighs.

“Good. Now, stay right here.”

I start to nod, but then there’s a broad, warm palm running up each of my sides, and I can’t help myself.

“Ah…!” I whimper, digging my knees into the ground and grabbing the picnic blanket on either side of his head.

It’s almost too much, having so much new touch all at once.

Gage slowly grins. “You like that, hm?” he purrs gently.

I swallow hard and nod jerkily, focused on his touch more than anything else.

His hands reach my shoulders and run back down my front. Over my chest and belly to my waistband. Back up to caress my collarbone with his thumb… around to touch my back at the same time, exploring my shoulder blades and running his other thumb down my spine…

I’m losing track of where exactly he’s touching me. Everywhere he’s touched me is burning up with need. I’m alight and alive like never before, lost in the swell of this incredible, unstoppable wave.

I’m squirming, moaning, desperate… and hard as hell.

My cock is straining against the tight confines of my shorts. I know he sees it, like everything. That’s why he’s taking his time, to make sure he does.

“You’re so sensitive,” Gage whispers over the breeze through the trees and the throbbing surges of waves against the beach.

I swallow hard and close my eyes as I shiver under his hands.

Somehow, it feels like he’s talking more than just my body. I can’t disappear into my pleasure… or hide behind it. Instead, it’s forcing me—the deepest parts of me—front and centre.

As Gage unbuttons my silky pink shirt, my heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest and fall right into his hands.

“Yeah,” I whisper at last. And when I’m already trembling, it’s somehow a little easier to push myself a little further. “I talk a big game, but yes.”

Gage pauses for a second, and then he resumes sliding free one button at a time. “It’s okay,” he whispers as I raise my arms to let him pull my shirt off. “I see you. The real you behind the sunshine. And I love it.”

My eyes fly open as I replay that last word in my head. He might as well be saying he loves me, but surely that’s ridiculous. I’ve only just begun showing him the real me.

I think he sees more than I know. A lot more than I know.

Fuck.

My stomach lurches like I’m falling in slow motion over a cliff edge I’ve never even let myself approach. Yet I can feel my wings spreading, too, to meet the breeze.

I lick my lips and clear my throat. “Y-You do?” I murmur back to him. “And you want the sunshine, too?” God, I hope it doesn’t annoy him.

Gage’s earnest gaze is fixed on me like I’m the only thing in the world. “Give me all of it, Kieran. I like your sunshine and rainbows.” he tells me. “But I also want your rain.”

He breathes out that last sentence like the filthiest thing I’ve heard in my whole bloody life. And, at the same time, he runs one fingertip down the outline of my hard dick.

Sparks explode under my skin. My belly is suddenly full of fire, and my hips arch forward eagerly into his touch, and I’m trembling again.

“Holy fuck…!” I choke back my cry as I squeeze my trembling thighs around his hips.

He repeats the touch, running his knuckles firmly along the shaft, and then rubs the heel of his hand back up to the tip and around the head, through my jeans.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I’m pretty sure I’m already leaking precum. My head is spinning dizzily. I let go of the blankets with one hand and try to reach for myself, but Gage just gently guides my hand right back where it was.

“I’ve got you,” Gage whispers. And, for the first time in my life, I believe it. I sag with relief—and that knot in my chest is about the only part of me that’s getting softer rather than harder.

He’s in charge. I can let go now.

If only he could fix everything this easily.

No. I’m not going to let myself ruin this moment. I’m going to be here with him right now. I’m going to give him what I can, for as long as I can.

And right now, I want to give him everything.