Dawson's Stand (Welcome to Covendale Book 4) (12 page)

BOOK: Dawson's Stand (Welcome to Covendale Book 4)
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“Yes.” He shuddered once. “Christ, what you do to me,” he whispered. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel this much.”

“Funny,” she whispered back. “That’s what I was thinking.”

He groaned and bent to her, claiming her mouth with fiery passion. She reached for him, stroked his skin, feeling every rigid line of him. Then he was tugging at her shirt, and she lifted to let him pull it over her head. He slid an arm around her, keeping her semi-upright as he kissed the hollow of her throat, the top of her breast.

His lips grazed her nipple through her bra, and she arched up in surprise as a bolt of heat moved through her. Then he kissed the other one, a hard nub pressed against the material. She couldn’t help gasping.

Without a word, he urged her to take her pants off. She slid them down and kicked free, eager to move forward. A distant part of her realized it had never been like this with Mike—they’d rarely had sex, and when they did it was perfunctory. Tab A, slot B, removing as little clothing as possible.

She stomped the memories ruthlessly, and returned her attention to Gage.

“Perfect,” he rasped. “Everything about you is perfect.” He unhooked her bra deftly and slid the straps down her arms—and then froze, drawing a shaking breath as the material came away. Faint horror washed through his features. “Oh, God,” he said. “What did he do to you?”

For a split second she was dizzy with confusion. Then she remembered the scar. She hadn’t looked at it in so long, she’d almost forgotten it was there—curving from the center of her chest beneath one breast, and trailing off around the side. Mike had a real thing for knives. Wearing a bra mostly hid the scar, but now it was in full, hideous view.

She grabbed reflexively for a blanket. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “I just—”

“No.” He took her wrist gently, before she could cover herself. “
I’m
sorry. I gave you the wrong idea.” He touched the start of the scar with his free hand, and said, “The man who did this to you is a monster. Just the thought that someone hurt you—well, it makes me sick.” His expression grew somber. “Did he…”

Somehow she understood what he was asking. “No,” she said. “He never abused me sexually. He wasn’t very interested in that.”

“In that case, he’s a monster
and
a fool.” The warmth of his smile filled her to the core. “Let me show you how it’s supposed to be.”

“I’d like that,” she whispered.

He kissed the wrist he still held, then brought her arm gradually behind her head. Her breath caught as he cupped her breast, stroking a rough thumb across her nipple. And when he bent to suckle her, she cried out in pleasure. She ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair as his tongue teased her, caressed her.

It wasn’t long until she was damp and throbbing with need.

He touched her everywhere, his expression a mixture of awe and desire. She’d never felt so wanted. Every stroke of his hand, every heated kiss, and the hard silk of his tongue on her skin awakened new sensations, until she was near to bursting with them. From the haze of breathless delight, she reached for him and tugged at his waistband.

He unfastened his jeans and pushed everything off with an impatient sound, gasping as the length of his cock sprang free.

She shivered and reached out, wrapping a hand around his thick cock just to feel it. His skin was so hot, and he was hard as marble. She stroked him slowly, thrilling to the liquid sounds he made.

He kissed her again and eased her panties down. As he lowered himself between her legs, she quivered with anticipation. The heat of him pressed against her slick opening, and he groaned softly as he eased inside her, inch by inch.

She opened for him, urging him deeper. When he was completely buried, he went still and met her gaze with glittering eyes. “My God,” he said hoarsely. “You’re amazing.”

“You, too.” The feeling of his thick cock inside her made her inner thighs flutter and twitch. She pressed harder against him, watched his eyes darken with pleasure. “Don’t make me wait. Please.”

Shuddering all over, he pulled back slowly and entered her again. He was so gentle, so tender—giving her every ounce of pleasure, and taking his own in watching her receive it. He kept up a languid, rocking pace for what seemed an eternity, until her breath came in ragged snatches and she clung to him in desperation, convinced she would run out of air.

At last, he began to pump faster. Her sudden, bright climax shocked a cry from her, and she arched against him in abandon. But almost instantly, the shattered tension started to rebuild—and she urged him faster, instinctively knowing she could feel that incredible explosion again. Hungry for it.

His jaw clenched, and his entire body stiffened as he drove his cock into her. She matched him thrust for thrust. As he began to shake, she tightened around his length and felt a second orgasm tear through her, stronger than the first. He let out a groan that spiraled into a harsh shout, and shuddered breathlessly through his own climax.

She expected to fall back to normal quickly, but the fog of bliss lingered for long moments as she lay wrapped up in him, limbs tangled and skin flushed. In fact, she wouldn’t mind never moving again. This was the true meaning of sated.

This was how it felt to be desired.

Gage shifted slightly and cradled her closer, as though he needed to touch all of her at once. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay awhile,” he murmured. “Because I can’t move.”

“Stay,” she whispered. “As long as you want.”

He smiled with his eyes closed. “How about forever?”

That should’ve scared the hell out of her, but it didn’t. Except for the part of her that desperately wished he meant it. She was no longer falling for him—she’d already fallen. Completely and profoundly.

She could only hope she wouldn’t end up burned this time.

 

 

Chapter 12

 

Sunlight turned the curtains into a blazing square of light. Gage threw an arm up and squinted as the world slowly swam into focus.

He was well acquainted with the morning-after. But for the first time, his mind skipped the series of urgent questions that usually came with it—
where am I, who’s with me, what happened last night, who’s going to be pissed at me.
He knew exactly where he was, with who, and why.

And there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

He shifted carefully, trying not to disturb the sleeping figure beside him. For a moment he just stared at her. He’d meant what he said last night. He really didn’t deserve a woman like Kyla. But for as long as she let him, he’d try to be the kind of man she deserved—one who knew just how lucky he was to have her.

She sighed softly and stirred, and he gave her some room. Her eyes fluttered open. When they focused on him, she offered a slow smile. “You’re still here.”

“Of course. You said I could stay.” He kissed her lightly and threaded his fingers through hers. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Mmph.” She blinked at him. “Is this the part where you make coffee for me?”

“It could be.”

“Great. Machine’s in the kitchen. Stuff’s on the counter.” With a tiny smirk, she grabbed the edge of the covers and pulled them over her head. “Tell me when it’s done.”

He laughed. “I don’t know where the kitchen is, remember?”

“You’ll find it.” Her voice was muffled by the blanket. “I have faith in you.”

“You’re not a morning person, are you?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Okay, then. I guess we’d better get you caffeinated.”

Still smiling, he extricated himself from the blankets and sat on the edge of the bed. It took a minute to spot his jeans—even though they were right next to him. He yawned, ran a hand through his hair and tugged them on. Then he headed out in search of a bathroom.

He soon discovered it wasn’t hard to find anything here. The house was small and simple. Living room, two bedrooms, one bath, and an eat-in kitchen. The coffee and filters were right next to the machine, just as Kyla said. He started a pot, and considered whether she’d mind if he made them breakfast. He could always ask her. But then it wouldn’t be a surprise.

Before he could decide, his phone buzzed.

He sighed, pulled it from his pocket, and answered reluctantly when he saw the display. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Gage, where are you?”

“Not home, obviously.” He really didn’t want to tell Luka where he was. She’d get the wrong idea. Well…right idea, wrong intentions. “What’s up?”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Yes, I did. I’m not home.”

She made a frustrated sound. “Don’t be a jerk. You have my car, and I need it.”

Damn. He’d completely forgotten about that—he probably should’ve found out when she needed it last night. “I don’t suppose you could borrow Mark’s or Jonah’s,” he said.

“No. Everybody’s busy.”

“Of course they are.” He heaved a breath. “All right. When do you need it?”

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

“Now who’s being a jerk?”

“Look, just get back here,” she said. “I have to go out to Greenway. The gallery’s putting a showing together, and Jo wants me to help curate and arrange.”

“Oh.” Great, now he felt bad. Luka didn’t just work at Mags’ place—she was a talented artist, and Reese had hooked her up with a pretty important gallery out in the city just a few weeks ago. Jo was the gallery owner. He couldn’t screw up his sister’s dream. “I’ll be right there,” he said. “You know, you could’ve mentioned this last night.”

“I didn’t know last night. Jo’s kind of impulsive sometimes.” At least she sounded a little less tense now. “I’m sorry, Gage. But thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. Be there soon.”

He frowned and ended the call—then did a double-take when he noticed Kyla standing in the kitchen doorway. “Hey,” he said, braving a smile. “I thought you weren’t moving until the coffee was done.”

“I heard talking. I’m not used to that.” She wandered into the room, scrubbing a hand down her face. She’d put on a t-shirt and sweats, and somehow managed to look more adorable than ever. “Did you say you’d be somewhere soon?”

“Unfortunately,” he admitted. “That was Luka. She needs her car.”

“Oh…right. I forgot you had it.”

“Yeah, so did I.”

“Maybe I should pick you up next time,” she said.

He grinned. “So that means there’s going to be a next time, right?”

She hesitated just long enough to make him worry. Then she smiled, and he could breathe again. “I’d like there to be,” she said.

“I’d like that, too.” He moved toward her, circled her waist and leaned his forehead against hers. “I am so sorry I have to leave like this,” he said. “Let me make it up to you.”

“How?”

“Breakfast. I was going to make it for you, so I’ll bring you some instead. Whatever day I can convince Mark to let me come in late.” He smiled. “It’ll be a surprise.”

“Well…all right.” She slipped her arms around him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Wanting me,” she whispered.

The pain behind her words went straight to his heart. He held her tighter, wishing he could erase all that hurt—preferably by erasing the man who’d given it to her. “I’ll always want you,” he said roughly. “And I will never, ever hurt you.”

She shivered and met his eyes. “I know.”

He knew he had to leave, but he took his time saying goodbye. Luka was going to be pissed, but he figured she’d forgive him eventually. If she were in his shoes, she would’ve done the same.

* * * *

The whole world seemed different after Saturday night, as if a switch had been flipped. Even Gage leaving so soon hadn’t bothered her much. She’d been a little disappointed, sure. But he’d called her as soon as he got home, and they’d talked for an hour about nothing and everything.

She’d never talked to another person for that long in her life.

Beyond that, she actually felt lighter. More awake. She noticed things she’d never paid attention to before—like the tiny blue and white flowers growing under the hedge in front of her cottage, and how she could hear the ghostly call of a distant train at night when the town was still. Everything was vibrant and bright, more
there.
Including herself.

On Monday she went to work, and found Luka had the day off—for “wedding stuff,” as Mags put it. That concerned her a little. She suspected Luka would have something to say about her and Gage, especially since he’d been late bringing her car back. But she had plenty to keep her busy, not the least was Gage texting her every so often with little notes that made her laugh. A few times she was sure she’d get fired. She told him so, and he said,
Good. I’m jealous of Luka. She’ll see you more than me.

She had to excuse herself to the bathroom for a few minutes with that one.

That night she slept better than she had in a long time. When she went into Mags’ the next day, Luka was already there.

And she didn’t look happy.

“Um. Hi.” Kyla closed the door carefully, took a few steps, and stopped. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know.” Luka leaned on the counter with a slight frown. “You look…different.”

“I do?”

“Maybe not. I might just be imagining things.” She sighed and lowered her head. “Look, this isn’t easy for me, but I need to talk to you.”

“About Gage?”

Luka grimaced. “Yeah. About him.”

“I thought so.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry about your car,” she said. “If I’d known you needed it, I would’ve made sure it got back to you.”

“Damn it. So he was with you.”

That was not even close to what she expected to hear. She was so shocked, for a moment she couldn’t speak. “Yes,” she said at last. “Is that a problem?”

“Oh, no.” Luka straightened slowly and came around the counter with a sympathetic expression. “I told him not to do this.”

“Do what, exactly?”

Apparently she wasn’t very good at sarcasm, because Luka didn’t notice. “Lead you on,” she said. “I love my brother, but he’s just not very responsible. Or serious. He has a bad habit of—”

“Getting used by women?”

BOOK: Dawson's Stand (Welcome to Covendale Book 4)
7.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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