Chapter 22

22

Gage

I can’t believe I invited her into my penthouse, much less my bedroom.

What am I doing?

I will regret this, yet there are no other options. Leah is hurting. She’s scared. She’s uncertain about her life, her safety, her place in the world.

I want to be her safe harbor.

“Are you sure?” Her voice trembles.

“Absolutely.” I stand up and walk to her, slowly so as not to startle her. “Come over here. Just to sleep, I promise.”

She allows me to lead her to the bed. I pull the covers back on her side, and she climbs in. I pull the sheet up to her shoulders and bend forward, kissing her cheek.

What the hell has gotten into me?

I get in bed on the other side. When I move to turn off the lamp, she says, “Can we leave it on?”

“Of course,” I say lightly, but inwardly I am grimacing.

She must fall asleep, because her eyes close and her breathing becomes deep and even.

Several long hours later, I know it’s morning because of the light coming from the open bedroom door. The lamp is no longer necessary, but I leave it on for Leah’s sake. My windows are dark, of course, because my black-out blinds are the best money can buy.

An incredibly beautiful girl is curled up next to me.

This hasn’t happened in fifteen years.

Her hand is on my chest. My bare chest. It feels nice, but I don’t want it to feel nice.

However, I’m already here. Fighting the situation is pointless.

She begins to wake up. I get to watch as she slowly realizes she’s with another person. Her fingers flex and she moves her hand around. Her eyes pop open and she flicks her gaze to my face.

“Sorry, sorry.” She starts to scramble away.

It is pointless to fight our closeness. Perhaps I should embrace it.

Embrace her .

Because it isn’t that any random woman has somehow eased her way into my sanctuary. It’s that this is Leah. I brought her here. Which means on some subconscious level, I trust her.

“No, stay put,” I say. “This is comfortable. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“It does, but I feel bad. You invited me to your apartment, then I crash in your bed, and we don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“We should,” I say.

Like it’s that easy.

“Yeah. Maybe we should.” Her voice is breathy. She slides against my body, her legs smooth where they hike up my pajama pants.

My protective instincts morph into something new.

Something dark and delicious.

I want to please her, I want to watch her come on my cock. Or, at the very least, my fingers. Also my tongue. That taste I stole at Low Vice has imprinted itself into my senses.

I bend my head forward, kissing over her cheeks and down to her neck. It’s so intimate, so loving. It makes no sense to me but it’s the only thing I can do in this moment.

She gasps, arching her neck to allow me more access.

I tug at her T-shirt, pulling it up. She raises her arms and helps remove it.

It’s too bright in here—too much can be seen. But I can’t help myself. I get up on my knees so I can use both my hands, cupping her breasts, tugging lightly on her nipples in a way that has her moaning beneath me.

“Can I…?” She reaches for my waistband.

I capture her hands before she can pull at the fabric. “No.”

“Okay.” Her voice telegraphs confusion, but she doesn’t press the issue. She starts to pull back from me, but I take her hands and raise them, anchoring them to the pillow behind her head.

“Hold still.” I test her by letting go of her hands.

She leaves them where I placed them.

I lower my face to her breasts, kissing my way down her stomach. I linger at her belly button, nipping and licking the soft, sensitive skin. She starts to move her arms, but I stop what I’m doing and give her a stern look.

“Sorry.” She laughs.

I smile against her belly and move down. I ease off her panties, marveling at how lovely her skin is, how delectable her curves. I swipe my tongue against her clit before kissing away from it.

She gasps. “Oh—oh, fuck .”

“Your cunt tastes so good, baby girl.” I lick my way down and up again to emphasize the statement.

Her body arches and she wraps her legs around me, trying to tug me closer. This girl is a banquet. So eager. So obedient. She wants to take control—that much is evident from the way she uses her legs to press at my shoulders and back.

“Let me,” I say in a low, warning voice. “Be still, Miss L.”

She relinquishes the death grip on my shoulders. I spread her legs open, giving me a better view.

Salty-sweet licks, teases against her clit. I press a finger inside her, looking up to see her reaction. Her eyes are the deepest blue I’ve ever seen as she watches me.

With my free hand, I put a finger against her lips. She licks the tip, her eyes on me. Wordlessly, she’s telling me what she would do if she had her mouth on my cock.

I want to come so badly. My cock aches. Every time I brush against the sheets or Leah’s legs, the pressure builds. If I’m not careful, I’ll come in my pants.

Perhaps that wouldn’t be so terrible.

No. I can’t. I won’t. It’s bad enough I’ve brought Leah here, bad enough I let her into my bedroom, my safe retreat from the world’s eyes. I cannot keep pushing past my own limits and boundaries.

Idea abandoned, I push more effort into Leah’s pleasure. Wet, wicked swipes of my tongue, curling my fingers inside of her just so.

“I want—oh my god, Gage?—”

“You want to come,” I say, infusing the words with my own desperation.

“Yes. Please .”

“Do it, baby girl. I’m going to put my mouth on you again and you’re going to come all over my fingers and face.”

I make good on my promise, licking and sucking at her clit rhythmically, in time with my fingers’ movements within her.

She cries out, but I don’t stop what I’m doing. I keep going, enjoying the way she ripples around my fingers, the way her thighs have clamped around my ears, the way she shouts with fierce sounds of joy.

When I feel I’ve carried her all the way to the end, I look up the length of her body. Her eyes are closed, her face a picture of contented bliss.

I crawl up to lie next to her. There, I tug her against me, petting her hair while she comes down from her orgasm high. She flings one of her legs over mine. It weighs against my painfully-hard shaft. I have to hold back my groan.

She obviously feels my erection against her leg because she says, “Gage, are you sure—I mean, I could reciprocate. I want to.”

“I appreciate the offer, but no, thank you.”

I can tell she wants to ask why, but thankfully, she doesn’t. I don’t want to make excuses or lie to her.

And I can’t tell her the truth.

Leah

Gage holds me for several minutes, insisting it’s necessary. Aftercare , he called it that first time. He seems to be really into it. I certainly don’t mind the closeness, but I’m not used to it. Mick never held me after sex. Neither did my other previous partners. I always thought it was something for the movies, or a very privileged subset of the human race.

Sort of like deep, all-consuming love. I’m glad people experience it—or think they do—but I’ve never believed it would be in the cards for me. Sure, I’ve loved a couple of my past boyfriends. I even thought I loved Mick. But it wasn’t soul-deep.

“You’re quiet,” Gage says. “Are you feeling okay after what we did?”

“Yeah. I feel great.” I wouldn’t mind doing more. I want to slide over and lie on top of him. But it seems too bold, especially after he stopped me from touching his cock and turned down my offer to go down on him.

Gage finally relinquishes his hold on me. He picks up his phone and frowns.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yes. It’s good news. They have Detective Wentz in custody.” He continues reading the message on his phone. “As well as the men who took you. None of them are making bail.”

“So I’m safe now,” I say, although it’s hard to believe. My brain knows I’m safe, logically, but my body keeps tensing up. “I don’t have my car here, but if you can’t give me a ride back to the hotel, I can call for one.”

“A ride back to the hotel? What are you talking about?” His voice is stern and deep.

I’ve figured out why that tone does things to my insides, especially between my legs. It’s his Dominant voice.

“I’m talking about…finding somewhere to sleep tonight? I don’t have an apartment, Gage.”

“You need a place to stay until you find an apartment?”

“Yeah.”

He gestures around his room. “Well, I can provide it. Please let me.”

We stare at each other. He looks surprised by his offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

“Are you sure about that? It’s a big offer. It also…complicated things with Dmitri when I stayed with him.”

“He’ll come around,” Gage says with a kind of certainty that surprises me.

“Did you mean what you said, about a relationship? At least the kind where I can stay here at your place?” I can’t keep the suspicion from my tone.

“I absolutely meant it. I would like to…date you. If you’re amenable. And without any pressure for sex, or power exchange.” He finds his glasses on the nightstand, puts them on.

“Okay.” I grab my shirt and tug it over my head. My face is still bruised, ouch. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and sit on the edge. “It would probably be best if we slept in separate bedrooms.”

His eyebrows rise on his forehead. “Really.”

“Really. You know. If that’s okay. I mean, it’s your house?—”

“I agree. Separate bedrooms is best.” He turns to his dresser and starts pulling out clothes. I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his left shoulder that I hadn’t seen before.

My mind swirls with everything being decided right now, everything spoken and unspoken. “What about Dmitri?”

“What about him?” Gage turns. His expression is inscrutable.

“You said he’ll come around. But you want to pursue a relationship with me…”

“He’s welcome to do the same. As you’ve seen firsthand, I have no trouble sharing you with him.”

Something dark and hot moves through my heart.

My feelings must show on my face, because Gage says, “What is that expression?”

“ I’m not comfortable sharing.”

He tilts his head. “What? Oh—oh, baby girl. You’re jealous.”

“No.”

His steps are slow and even as he approaches my side of the bed. He stops when he’s standing between my knees. He’s breathtakingly beautiful and seems completely unaware of that fact.

“You are jealous.” His tone is matter-of-fact, nonjudgmental. “But you have nothing to worry about. I would share you with Dmitri, no others. And I have no interest in being shared. It’s you I want to pursue.”

“You seem awfully invested in Dmitri. Do you want to pursue him, too?”

He seems to consider my question, but he doesn’t seem offended by it. “No. I’m more interested in watching him pursue you.”

Watching seems to be a theme with this guy. Which works, I suppose, with my newly-awakened exhibitionism.

“I have to be at the club soon, and then later tonight.” He gazes down at me. I have to fight the urge to wrap my legs around his and keep him here. “We could have dinner in between, though.”

“I would, but I promised Danica a movie night.”

“What will you be watching?” He trails a finger over my shirt, between my breasts.

“I’m not sure,” I lie, because no way am I admitting to this polished, professional Dom that I’m going to watch something as juvenile as Academy of Ghosts . He would never look at me the same.

“Very well.” He presses a kiss to my temple and straightens up. “I’ll text you the key code to enter the apartment. I’m eager to see where this arrangement takes us.”

Eager? I’m eager, sure, but also nervous and anxious and excited and terrified. Gage is different from anyone I’ve ever dated, and something tells me he’s hiding some big fucking secrets.