Gage Hunter updated his status:
Congrats to my pal Ember. Four exams down, one to go. Way to go, baby girl!
Ember clicked on the notification box, not surprised to see a handful of likes from total strangers by the time her Facebook page refreshed. Gage had groupies. How weird was that? He didn’t even have an album out, but social media was changing how celebrities and fans connected.
She knew better than anyone that Gage was something else up close and personal. Even through the anonymity of the internet, he probably made each of his fans feel the same way she did. Special. Like she had his undivided attention. Even beautiful, although Gage had never shown any interest in her beyond friendship. His still referring to her as baby girl underscored that fact in a big way.
They were the same age. She was actually two months older than him, although by the time they met in grade nine, he was already taller, and by the time they graduated high school, he was a good deal bigger too, at least through the upper body. There’d been one mortifying afternoon where he’d pulled on her jeans after swimming, and they were too big in the hips. He’d laughed hysterically. She hadn’t spoken to him for a week.
She moused over the status update again, wondering if she should reply, when an instant message popped up in the corner. A wicked thrill dashed from her heart to her girly bits at the sight of his bad-ass rocker avatar.
Gage: Are you studying?
Ember: Nope. Last exam is Modern Canadian Literature, and it’s an open book essay. I’ve got my notes ready to go.
Gage: You know we’ve got a show in the city tomorrow night?
Ember: Uh, yes! I already have my tickets. I’m bringing a girlfriend. Try not to hit on her.
Gage: Ouch, you wound me.
Ember: If the shoe fits…
Gage: Got any plans tomorrow during the day?
Ember: Only if you’ve made them for me—I assumed we might catch up. But it’s okay if you’ve got other stuff to do, too.
He didn’t respond right away, so Ember clicked on his name and flipped through some of the most recent pictures. Gage on the main stage at a folk festival, mid-afternoon. He’d been so proud of that gig. Gage and three blond fans. Ha. Gage and more fans. Gage and—she paused that thought when a knock sounded at the door. Her celebratory pizza was a bit early. She clicked back to the chat window.
Ember: brb, my pizza’s arrived.
Gage: Pizza!
She shook her head and giggled as she jogged to the door. The delivery person knocked again, this time in a sustained pattern. She yelled for them to hang on a second, and grabbed her purse.
A third round of knocking began just as she swung the door open, and her bitchy snapback died on her tongue as six feet of wicked awesomeness loomed over her, waving a bottle of pink champagne in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.
“Gage!” She dropped her purse and threw herself against his body. She breathed in his spicy cologne and underlying Gage-ness. His chest was warm and hard under her cheek. “You’re here! I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”
“Surprise, baby girl.” He gave her a quick squeeze with his forearms before she stepped back. Then he waggled the bottles at her. “I should have waited until all of your exams were done, but we’ll be in Kingston and then Ottawa after that, and you were crowing on Facebook earlier so I thought it was safe tonight.”
She hopped up and down on the spot, clapping her hands. “Oh my god, this is the best surprise. And I’ve got pizza on the way!”
He chuckled. “I know, you said. Let me guess, vegetar—“
“Shut up, it’s good for you. And if you’d told me you were coming, I’d have ordered something else for you too.”
“And miss a full-on Ember-being-surprised body hug?” His slow, sexy smile covered his whole face, crinkling his eyes and sharpening his jaw. “That was totally worth a few mushrooms and peppers on my cheese wheel.”
She stepped back. She might do something stupid if she stayed too close. Like let herself think his smile was intentionally sexy, and not just an innate part of Gage. Unfortunately, stepping back just meant she could see the whole package. Heavy-sole Doc Martens, faded black jeans anchored by a heavy leather belt, and a soft grey t-shirt that pulled up just enough to show off his slightly fuzzy abs when he lofted the bottles above his head again.
It would be totally possible to lose herself in the fantasy of that strip of skin, soft over hard, but Ember knew better. She’d spent most of high school longing for Gage. The distance and limited friendship of the last four years had been a good thing. She’d dated, and honestly enjoyed herself. But with the intensity of the last term of her last year of university, it had been a while since she’d gotten laid. As Gage pushed past her, she took a deep breath of his scent and blamed her hibernating sex drive for choosing this moment to wake up.
She glanced down at her sweat pants and oversized t-shirt, both emblazoned with the University of Toronto logo. Well, there wasn’t any risk of Gage being unexpectedly drawn to her tonight, so their relationship was safe. She shook her head, and half of her ponytail fell out. You’re a classy girl, Ember. She yanked at the elastic and followed him down the hall, head down, arms in the air, as she tried to rectify the mess on top of her head.
So it was a total surprise when she ran head first into his six-pack.
Or what she presumed was still a well-defined set of abdominal muscles. It had been a while since she’d seen him without his shirt on.
“You okay there, baby—”
“Don’t call me that.” She hated that nickname. A flush of embarrassment rose up her neck and warmed her cheeks. “I’m going to go get changed.”
“Hey, Ember. I’m sorry. Look, I know I’ve crashed into your place on your night off. Please, don’t get changed. In fact, if you’ve got a pair of sweats for me, I’ll put them on and we can eat pizza and be gross together.”
It was the right thing to say at the wrong moment. Or the wrong thing to say at the right moment, maybe. The reminder that her best friend was now so far out of her league it wasn’t funny still hurt. She winced. “No, really, let me get dressed. I’m not drinking champagne like this.” She waved a hand down her body, then tapped it lightly on Gage’s chest to indicate he should move out of her way. Her fingers wanted to linger, but she spurred herself on to her room anyway. Stupid fingers. Stupid hard chest and nice soft t-shirt. Stupid, awesome Gage with his stupid, wonderful surprise visits.
By the time she was through her little mental rant, she was undressed and smiling in front of her closet. A bottle of champagne and a bottle of tequila. This was probably going to be a lot of fun, once she got out of her head. She dug through her underwear drawer, looking for the stretchy lace boy shorts that her sister had convinced her she should have for when she wanted to feel sexy. That was exactly what she wanted tonight.
Not that Gage thought she was actually gross, of course. But after that comment, she needed a little pick-me-up, and hidden sexy underpants would do the trick.
She slid the hot pink lace up her legs and twirled around. She needed to do something nice for her sister, the smarty-pants. She didn’t have a matching bra, but a basic black one would do. Black went with everything.
Ripped blue jeans and a v-neck black tee completed the outfit, and she was brushing her hair when she faintly heard a knock at the front door.
Gage beat her to it, handing cash over in exchange for the pizza, and he waved off her protests. “Let me treat you. I haven’t explained the tequila yet.”
She raised an eyebrow in question.
“The champagne is to celebrate you finishing your degree. An accomplishment, I should tell you, that seriously humbles me. You are the smartest person I know.” She opened her mouth to chide him, but he reached out with his free hand and placed his finger over her lips. The touch was functional, but it still sparked her libido again, and she leaned back, pressing her lips together in an effort to rid herself of that damn tingling sensation.
He shot her a short quizzical look before continuing. “The tequila, though, is to celebrate some good news that I just got.”
She stared at him, waiting for the rest of the sentence, but he just grinned. “What? Gage, don’t just stand there, what’s your good news?”
“Well, after we do our road trip out east, we’re coming back to Toronto and recording a single. In a studio, with a producer. Which we’re going to release. Soon.”
She didn’t need to let the words sink in. This was what Gage had been working toward for so long, as soon as the word “single” hit her ears, she was bouncing up and down and making happy noises. When he finished, she squealed and as he put the pizza down on the counter, she threw herself onto him again, this time getting some air.
Gage seemed better prepared for her as well this time, and he easily picked her up and held her tight to his body as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She pulled his head into her neck, loving the way his normally shaved pate was a bit stubbly against her hands. “Congratulations,” she whispered, her mouth just above his ear. Happy tears rolled down her face and splashed onto his skin, and he laughed silently against her.
“Are you crying?”
“In a good way, I promise.”
He squeezed her tighter still. “Funny timing, eh?”
“That we both have something to celebrate?”
“And that I’m going to be in the city for a while, and you won’t need to be studying all the time…maybe we can get some quality Gage and Ember time in, what do you say?”
Gage, in the city. Gage and his groupies, right in front of her. Some of her euphoria slipped away. “Yes, of course. I’m so happy for you.”
She pushed on his shoulders, and he relaxed his arms, letting her slide down his body. As soon as her foot hit the ground, she turned in the circle of his arms and reached for the pizza. Without looking at his face, she asked him to grab glasses for the champagne, and she opened the box.
He paused for a moment behind her, as if he sensed the shift in her mood, but then he stepped away and a cupboard door opened and glasses clinked together.
They settled in front of the TV, side by side but not touching. Two oversized servings of champagne later, the bottle was empty and Ember was happy.
“You know what we should do?” She leaned toward Gage with exaggerated motion. He raised his eyebrows, both of them, which she thought was strange, but she took that as an unspoken response and plowed ahead anyway. “We should go clubbing.”
She put an extra flourish on the last word, and his eyes got really wide. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, baby girl.”
“Not tonight, Gage. And I told you not to call me that. I mean, when you’re here for a while.”
“Sure.”
She scowled at him, but somewhere midway through the expression her lips curled into a smile and she started laughing. “Are you humouring me?”
“No, of course not.”
“Why don’t you want to go clubbing with me, Goran Gage Hunter Matlovich?”
“Oooh, full naming me, I’m scared.” He reached out and steadied her shoulder. His hand was warm and big, covering most of the space between her shoulder and her neck. She wanted to tilt her head to the side and pin it in place, but she had an answer to demand first.
“Don’t avoid the question. Clubbing. You. Me. Is that going to happen?”
“Sure.”
She reared up on unsteady knees and waved a finger in his general direction. “I don’t think that means what you want me to think it means.”
He laughed hard at that, and reached with his other hand to link his fingers around her accusing one. “I don’t even know what that means. I do know, though, that you are the cheapest drunk I’ve ever met.”
She pouted. “And we didn’t even crack the tequila.”
“I’m not drunk yet. We still could.” She was still on her knees, facing his side, but he’d twisted toward her, holding her upright, and all of a sudden, she didn’t want either of them to move. Didn’t want to get the tequila. Didn’t want to sober up. Didn’t want anything other than this moment to last forever, his hands on her body, his gaze pinned on her face. Looking at her like he’d give her the moon if she asked.
“Gage,” she whispered.
He blinked, and the look was gone. “Yep?”
She pulled back. This was probably a really bad idea. “Go get the tequila. I’ve got a lime in the fridge.”
Gage pressed gently on Ember’s shoulder, easing her back to the floor. The tips of his fingers were touching soft, bare skin where her shirt dipped down, and it took all of his self-control to stand up once she was settled.
Adding shots to the wine already coursing through her system was a terrible idea. Just one or two. He probably didn’t need to be muddled any further, either. The fact that he almost pulled her into his lap just then was proof of that.
But he wanted to celebrate. When Jay got the call from the producer that afternoon, they’d each let out an expletive-laden howl, then exchanged a fist pump and a bro hug before agreeing that they needed to head to the city a day early. The city where their dreams were going to come true.
Jay talked about hitting a couple of clubs, but as they headed down the southbound freeway, Gage knew he wanted a more private celebration. Jay’s brother lived downtown, so he didn’t feel guilty tapping out at the subway line. He told his drummer they’d catch up the next day for sound check, and grabbed the next westbound car toward Ember.
His best friend. His first crush. There was no one else he wanted to share his news with.
“Gage? Do you need a hand?” She was steadier on her feet than she’d been on her knees. Maybe the wine had just gone to her head for a minute.
“I got it.”
She leaned across the peninsula that separated the small kitchen from the living room of her equally small apartment. He ducked his head into the fridge, ostensibly searching for a lime that was right in front of him. He actually needed a minute to talk himself out of proposing body shots. Fuck, he’d been spending too much time with musicians lately. One glimpse of her cleavage and his mind was in the gutter.
Liar. He didn’t need a revealing t-shirt to think of Ember and sex. When she’d answered the door, all soft and comfy in sweats, that did it for him too. When she’d hugged him, her soft breasts pressed up against him without any stiff barriers, he’d wanted to slide his hands up her bare back, then curve around and cup—
“Are you sure?” All of a sudden, she was right there beside him, her soft, small hand on his arm, and he jerked his head up, smashing the top of his skull against the freezer door handle.
“Motherfucker!” He stumbled back, bumping into the fridge door with a loud clatter, and clamped a hand to what felt like a suspiciously wet spot on his head.
“Oh my god, your head.” Ember followed him the short two feet across her galley kitchen, pressing up against his side to look at the wound. “Shit. Double sh—you need a bandage. At the very least.” She winced. “I’m so sorry.”
Not her fault he’d wandered into a distracting fantasy moment. Maybe her fault for being so completely uninterested in him that all he had was said fantasy, but it’s not like he’d ever tested that question. He wasn’t willing to risk their friendship. “It’s okay, baby girl.”
She bit her lip.
“Okay, no nicknames, got it.”
“It’s not any nickname. Just that one. I’m not that tiny girl in grade nine anymore.” She turned and disappeared into the hallway for a second before reappearing with a first aid kit. “I’m a grown up. With skills and everything.” She shrugged. “I don’t like that you still see me as a kid.”
Wow. She had that all wrong, but he couldn’t very well correct her without opening a can of worms. Instead, he quietly braced himself on his forearms and ducked his head so she could use those skills to quickly and efficiently nurse him back to health. He hissed when she swiped an antiseptic pad over the cut, but quieted immediately when she pressed her fingers on either side of the stinging spot. He loved her hands on his head. There was something just right about her touch, an innocent intimacy that promised she’d always be there for him.
He didn’t have that from anyone else. His mom had been the only other person in his life to love him without reservation, and she was gone.
“All better. It’s actually just a little scrap, but it bled like a…well, that’s better left unsaid.” She took a deep breath. “How about that drink now?”
“We don’t have to.”
“Are you kidding me? Yes, we totally do! The pizza’s absorbed the wine, I’m feeling good, and the night is still young. Let’s do this.” She reached into the fridge and grabbed the lime from the top shelf. “I was going to make Mexican tomorrow night, but drinking Mexican tonight sounds like a way better plan.”
She moved around the kitchen with remarkable agility for someone who had been quite tipsy just a few minutes earlier, taking a knife from a drawer and a cutting board from beside the microwave. A few chops later, she proudly presented 8 thin lime wedges on a plate in her right hand, and in her left, she brandished a salt shaker. Above them both, her smile glittered like a thousand fairy lights on a midsummer night.
“You’re on.” He added the silent baby girl in his head. “Grab some shot glasses.”
Her smile wavered for a second. “Uhm. I don’t think I have any.”
That shot glasses made up most of the glassware in his cupboard, in the basement apartment he occupied in his grandmother’s house…that was reason enough that he shouldn’t be thinking about messing around with Ember.
It wouldn’t be messing around. The thought thundered through his head before he could re-focus on the task at hand. There wasn’t much of Gage that was angelic, but that sliver of his personality managed to rear up to push back against the rest of his being. Yes it would, dipshit. And it wouldn’t get that far anyway, because you’d just freak her out.
Which is what he was already doing, by the look on her face. Her brow pulled together, and up as well, as her lips parted as if to ask—
“What the fuck, eh?” He laughed, pushing as much carefree distraction into his voice as possible. “We don’t need shot glasses.”
“No, it’s okay, I think I have one somewhere.” Ember shot him one last confused glance before turning to rummage in a different cupboard. “Ah ha!” She held up a garish souvenir from Niagara Falls. “We can share, right?”
“Sure, why not.” He willed his dick to pay attention to the teensy tiny angel on his right shoulder.
“You want to go first?”
He nodded, and reached for the glass. His fingers drifted around hers, and she took a deep breath at the same moment. He squeezed her hand before lifting the glass out of her grip. “You don’t need to do a shot, you know.”
This time her look was more startled than confused. “That wasn’t—okay. Come on, let’s do this.”
He sprinkled salt on the beefy part of his hand between his thumb and forefinger, and poured himself a shot. Up and over and back it went, and he neatly reached for a lime wedge as he tapped the glass back to the counter.
Excitement spread across Ember’s face as she reached for the glass. “Nicely done, hot shot.” She prepped her own hand, then paused with the glass halfway to her wide, happy mouth. “Here’s to this guy I went to high school with, who’s going to be a rock star.”
He watched as she licked, then swallowed, her shoulders squaring against the bite of the alcohol as it burned a path to her bloodstream. Fearless girl. Woman. Damn, he needed to stop doing that. He watched as she licked lime juice from her lips, inhaled a happy breath, and reached for the bottle again.
“Whoa there, Em—”
She winked. “Who says this is for me?” The tip of her tongue darted between her teeth as she carefully measured an ounce of the clear liquid. Her gaze flicked up to meet his and white hot want flooded his chest at her expression. Like she was offering him so much more than a drink. She swallowed hard and reached for the salt shaker, blindly laying out a line on her skin. Without breaking eye contact, she lifted her hand.
“Ember…”
“Take the shot, Gage.”
He cleared his throat and leaned forward, bowing his head over her hand. His nose grazed the skin on her hand before his tongue reached her, and she sucked in a breath. They’d hugged, snuggled and even slept in the same bed together, but never had he been so aware of her bare skin. Because he was about to lick it. Because he wanted to lick a hell of a lot more than just her hand.
He wished he could smell her, instead of the overwhelming combination of alcohol and citrus. He let his tongue go soft and wide as he took his time laving her flesh through the salt, regretfully pulling up at her knuckle. If only he could do that again and again, without the drink.
But that was the point, and if they weren’t both intoxicated, it wouldn’t have happened at all. He accepted the rim of the glass against his mouth. In the background, a fuzzy Ember licked her lips and concentrated hard on the angle of the glass. Too hard, and not quick enough. He reached up to help her tip it back faster. The shot burned, but it wasn’t his first time drinking tequila. He didn’t need the lime. Wouldn’t have taken it if it wasn’t right there, balanced on her fingertips.
This was a dangerous game. He shook his head, knowing he needed to stop, but then her touch was on his mouth, and all thoughts ceased.
“Open up,” she breathed, and he did. She pinched the citrus wedge, spritzing a bit of juice on his face, and her giggle made him laugh. “Sorry.”
“It’s oka—” The words caught in his throat as she leaned forward and swiped at the drop of lime juice on his cheek with the tip of her tongue.
“Yummy.” She pulled back just enough to look at him. Breath puffed over her swollen pink lips, and he had to agree, that was probably the right word. But he couldn’t be sure…
“What does it taste like?” A stupid line. Surely she’d laugh.
But she didn’t.
“You tell me,” she whispered, closing the gap again, this time settling her lips on his. With cute hesitation, she paused there for a moment, then edged her tongue out to share the lime juice.
With a groan, he flexed his hands in the air behind her back. He wanted to haul her hard against his body and claim her mouth, but she was drunk. This was a terrible idea.
“Gage?” His name on a reedy, uncertain breath, and he was done. He hoped she just didn’t hate him in the morning.
He threaded one hand into her hair and stroked the other across the small of her back, seeking out the patch of bare skin that had tantalized him for far too long. He pulled her close, making his interest obvious, and pressed his mouth hard against hers.
He savoured the taste of her lower lip for a moment before pulling back just enough to mutter a question he needed answered. “Are you sure?”
She nodded and opened for him, wordlessly begging for his tongue. She got that and more as he swept into her mouth, kissing her with the fervour of the high school boy that never got to taste his best friend, mixed with the grown up knowledge of how to make a kiss into a promise of more to come.
His back rocked against the edge the counter as he curled himself around her small body. She arched into him, meeting him stroke for stroke, with her tongue and her hands and her raw desire. It wasn’t until her knuckles grazed his abs and her fingers dipped below his belt that he managed to stop himself. With a growl, all of him protesting except the angel on his shoulder who was half wasted on tequila himself, Gage released his hungry hold on Ember and wrapped his hands around her wrists instead. “No.”
“What?” Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused, and he wanted to believe it was lust, but he knew better.
“Come on, baby girl. Let’s get you to bed.”
“No.” The word ripped out of her like a sob. “Gage, it’s okay. I want to.”
“Oh, believe me, I do too. But not like this.” He took a deep breath and lifted her hands, kissing first one palm and then the other. “Come on.”
Before he lost his resolve, he marched her into her room, then turned back to the hall closet in search of a spare pillow and blanket. If he was lucky, it would be the last night he’d sleep on her couch.
“You don’t need those,” she whispered behind him, her soft hands pressing against his back. “Come sleep with me.”
They’d done that before, during house parties, when the couches were otherwise occupied, but never like this. “We shouldn’t.”
She shook her head. “We won’t do anything. Just…come and hold me, okay? Promise me that nothing’s going to change because of this.”
He jerked his head back. “Nothing…what? You know, never mind. We’ll talk in the morning.”
She winced, but nodded and spun around, dodging into the door frame. Definitely drunk. He told his dick to pay attention and stay down until dawn. An instruction which was promptly ignored as she pulled off her t-shirt and sauntered over to her dresser. All he could see was her bare back, bisected by a thin black line of spandex and clips. Clips that would free her breasts, for him to cup in his hands, and love with his mouth. He sucked in a breath and watched as she tugged on a new, bigger t-shirt, then wiggled her arms in and out of the shirt until she accomplished what he wanted to do more than anything else in the world—her bra was off and dangling from the tip of her finger.
“Can I take my pants off?” She glanced back at him over her shoulder and giggled. She was flipping from nervous to flirty and back again, fueled by half a bottle of champagne and a single tequila shot, which made her a pretty cheap drunk. And since she was drunk, he would be noble even if killed him. But he wasn’t dead, and she wasn’t so drunk he couldn’t have a little fun.
“Be my guest. Can I join you?” He wrenched his belt open and flicked the top button on his jeans with his thumb.
“No fair, you wouldn’t let me do that.” She pushed her jeans to the floor, and turned around. Her oversized shirt drifted around the top third of her thighs, high enough to tease but not show him anything good. Well, except the soft expanse of creamy thighs pressed together. That was pretty awesome.
“If you still want to in the morning, baby girl, it would be my pleasure.”
“Really?” Her voice lifted half a register, and he grinned.
“Yes, really.” He crossed her bedroom in two large strides and paused in front of her. “I just want this to be…well, not a drunken mistake.”
She reached for his belt, but he tapped her hands. “Get into bed and turn off the lights.”
“Wait, I need to brush my teeth!” Good to the bone, even when drunk.
She trotted past him out the door and into the bathroom. As she rinsed and spit, leaning over the sink, her shirt pulled up in the back.
“Pink,” he muttered.
“What?” She glanced at him in the mirror.
“Your toothbrush.” He cleared his throat. Lame cover, but whatever. “It’s pink.”
“My favourite colour.” She pulled another one out from the drawer, still in its package. “You want?”
He chuckled and accepted it, a random thought crossing his mind that in the morning, they’d be hard pressed to know which was which. Hopefully by then, it wouldn’t matter if they shared a toothbrush.
They drifted back to the bed, holding hands this time, and she flipped out the lights after they were both tucked in. In the dark, he reached across and pulled her against him. “My favourite too, you know.”
“What?” Her question was mumbled into his shirt, soft and slow. At least one of them would sleep tonight.
“Pink.” His dick flexed. “It’s my favourite colour, too.”
Awareness dribbled slowly into Ember’s mind. A heavy warmth surrounded her, and she didn’t want to open her eyes. This muzzy satisfaction felt way too good to wake up. Her eyelids lifted ever so slightly, letting in thin shafts of light between her lashes. The warmth shifted, and with a start she realized someone was spooning her. A male someone, who was sporting an erection.
Gage.
She blinked one eye open, all the way this time. His arm was tossed over her body and under her arm, his hand resting on the sheet in front of her face. His breath was steady and slow against her back.
She’d slept with Gage.
Holy crap, she’d kissed him. A swarm of butterflies awoke in her stomach. And he’d kissed her back.
And when he woke up…
She needed to go brush her teeth. And maybe throw up. She hadn’t drunk that much, but her nerves were rioting. What if he regretted it? She shut her eyes, willing herself not to panic.
Behind her, he shifted, and she froze, which was entirely the wrong thing to do, because he pulled his arm tight around her. “You’re awake, baby girl.”
“I am.”
“How d’you feel?” His voice, warm and sleepy, wove its way into her heart.
“Okay.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Uhm…” She considered the thought of adding food to her stomach. “Yes?”
He chuckled against her hair. “We’ll go out, so you can get whatever you want.”
“Kay.”
His hand was pressed against her stomach, through her shirt, and she was painfully aware that his thumb was mere centimeters away from the bottom of her breast. As he had been speaking, he’d shifted his hips away from her, and she wanted to follow him, to maintain that proof that, at least in his sleep, he’d wanted her.
“Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“What?” She blushed, grateful he couldn’t see her face.
“What my grandmother called morning ablutions.”
“Maybe. Yes. I’ll be right back.” Without looking at him, she slid out of bed and scurried away. She peed, then washed her hands and picked up the toothbrush on the left. Rather foolish, only buying one colour. Not that she’d ever needed to give one to a guest before.
After brushing her teeth, she washed her face and took her time smoothing moisturizer over her skin. She didn’t feel too hungover, but decided to take a Tylenol anyway. She was about to reorganize her medicine cabinet when Gage knocked on the bathroom door. She couldn’t hide forever.
“Your turn,” she whispered as she moved to slip by him, but his hand snaked out and gently gripped her wrist. Not unlike how he stopped her from getting into his pants the night before, and she flushed as the highlights flashed through her mind. His tongue. His touch at the small of her back.
“Hang on.” He tugged her back into the bathroom, and shifted his hand to lace their fingers together. They stood there, shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions, as he picked up the pink toothbrush on the right hand side of the sink, slid it between their entwined hands, and laid out a thin line of toothpaste. She turned her head, not wanting to watch him lest they accidentally make eye contact. If that happened, she might just die of embarrassment. What had she been thinking?
Champagne and tequila were evil. If Gage hadn’t been thinking clearly, they might have done a lot more than kiss.
Beside her, Gage leaned over the sink and rinsed. Why was he still holding her hand? Her pulse fluttered in the hollow at the base of her throat, and all of a sudden it was hard to breathe. This was too weird. They’d wrecked it. She’d wrecked it. Why did he have to look so yummy? Why did he have to bring alcohol and his big, stupid, yummy body and be right there, in front of her, so completely touchable and hot and unattainable?
And now he was holding her hand while he brushed his teeth. He was torturing her, and she’d had enough. She tugged her hand, trying to wiggle free, but he held on tight and lifted their hands instead, spinning her in front of him as he propelled them into the hallway.
“Where should we…” He trailed off and stopped in his tracks, and she glanced over her shoulder. He looked first at the kitchen, then back to her bedroom, determination warring with something else on his face. What was he thinking about?
“Gage, what are you doing?”
He released her hand long enough to turn her around so they were facing each other. “Trying to figure out where we should pick up where we paused last night.”
Oh. Oh!
“The kitchen is the more romantic choice. Now that we’re not drunk, I could give you a chance to kiss me again, in the same spot.” He loomed over her, and a wave of need rolled from her chest down to her toes. “I’ll be honest, I’d prefer the bedroom, because…well, because I’m a guy, and I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
“You have?” Her voice was foreign to her own ears. Everything was not quite right all of a sudden, as if she’d shifted to an alternate dimension where Gage wanted her, without the help of booze.
“Oh, you have no idea.” She actually did, but that would have to wait until she caught her breath. “I’ve been waiting for you to see me as something more than a friend.” He reached out and cupped her face with one hand, his thumb stroking the soft spot beneath her cheekbone. “Do you want me, Ember?”
She nodded, too stunned to answer out loud.
“Then right here is good enough.” He slid both hands down her waist, over her hips and around the back of her thighs, leaning over a bit to gain some leverage before hoisting her up and pressing her against the wall. “Ember Whitney Mulligan, will you be my girlfriend?”
“What?” She reached out and steadied her hands against the back of his head.
He groaned and buried his face in her neck. “I fucking love it when you touch my head. It makes me harder than a box of nails.” He rocked his erection into her core, his jeans rubbing right through the scant scrap of lace between her legs. “I said, will you be my girlfriend. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it.”
Her sex clenched at his unintended double entendre. “We’re going to do it?”
Another groan. “No. I mean, yes, I hope so. But first, we’re going to make out. Then we’re going to get breakfast. Then you’ll wear my jacket and watch me do a sound check this afternoon. We’ll call those dates one and two. The concert tonight can be the third date, and if you still want me then…”
A panicky laugh ripped out of her chest and she pulled his face to hers. “I’m still going to want you then. I want you now. I’ve wanted you forever and a day, and that will never change.”
He pressed a kiss on either side of her mouth, then brushed his lips against hers with feather-light delicacy. “We’re only going to have one first time. I want it to be outstanding.”
“Okay.” She breathed in, as if trying to suck him closer. An ache was pulsing in the back of her neck, and if he didn’t kiss her soon, really kiss her, like he did last night, she just might— “Mmmphf.”
He swallowed her noises, which went from surprised to delighted and then hungry, and she squeezed hard around his upper body, wanting to touch him everywhere. Wanting to consume, and be consumed.
And as he lifted her off the wall and walked slowly to her bedroom, she didn’t have any doubt that they’d do that, and it, over and over again in good time.
Gage Hunter updated his status:
Breakfast with my girl Ember. Up next: sound check. Stoked about the show tonight, see y’all there!