VIP (Rock & Release, Act I) (15 page)

I sigh. "I know. But I want to leave and you still have an hour of your shift left."

"I can take her home." Jared's smiling, but almost kindly. It looks strange on his face. And his eyes…are kind of intense, though I can't read whatever message he's trying to send. A second later he focuses them on Vera. "In fact, Ver, you should just crash at my house tonight."

I'm not sure I want to have the place to myself tonight, but the pleasure sweeping across Vera's face is enough to have me biting my tongue, and nodding when she asks if I'll be okay.
 

I walk out of the pavilion without a backward glance. Gage and I had plans to follow each other back to my house, but forget that crap. Forget him altogether.

I grab another beer as soon as I'm home and bring it in with me to the shower. Drinking long swallows between washing my hair and my body. I'm not going to think about him. I'm definitely not going to think about the last time we were in here together.
I'm not
.
 

I slip into PJs and brush my hair. There is no Gage. I drop onto the couch and turn on the TV and flip aimlessly through channels. I don't care what I watch. I don't care about anything. I swear. I don't. Especially about Zoey or Gage. Nope. Not at all.

Except there's a knock at the door and I know it's Gage and my stupid, traitorous heart does little flips.
 

I open the door and he's standing there looking all gorgeous and furrow-browed. Not happy with me. As if
he
has a reason to be mad. As freaking if. I raise my own brows, keeping the rest of my face emotionless. "What?"

"Hello to you, too." He comes in, walking past me and grabbing my hand, like he just
expects
me to follow him.
 

I tug my fingers out of his grasp. "Sure. Come on in."

He ignores my sarcasm and turns, leaning against the wall to study me. "Didn't we have plans to leave together?"

"Things changed."

"You left without saying anything."

"Guess we aren't the kind of people who say things to each other."

"You're mad about Zoey." It's not a question, and he still has the nerve to look annoyed.

"Uh, you think?" I didn't mean to admit it, but the words flow from my mouth and I don't do anything to stop them. "I mean, are you kidding me? Your ex works with us and you didn't think you should mention her to me?"

Now he has the decency to drop his eyes.

But he looks up a second later, and instead of looking sorry, he looks even more pissed. "You never want to talk about anything personal, Cassidy. You've never even wanted to come to my place." He lets out a frustrated sigh. "And you definitely don't ever ask anything about me—so why would I force anything on you? Including Zoey?"

"You didn't have to tell me every little detail about your relationship with her," I say, stung by his words. It's not like we're strangers. Hell, he even knows about Jason.
You only told him because you were drunk
. I ignore the hiss of my conscience. "But don't you think it's kind of fucked up not to mention that you have a thing for sleeping with every girl at BackBar? It's something I might have taken into consideration before becoming one of your tally."

"My tally?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "First of all, there is no tally. Second…tell me, Cassidy. What's my last name?"

I know this.
 

Don't I know this?
 

How
can I not know this?

"Logan." He wants to say more, I can tell by his intake of breath, but he stops himself instead and closes his mouth.

"I
knew
that." Okay, I totally hadn't known that. But still, "What were you about to say?" I push him, my irritation growing disproportionately to the way I can see him trying to calm himself. "Don't back down now."

"
You don't even know my last name
."

"Oh, what, and that makes me some slut because I jumped into bed with you?"
 

"No! God, Cassidy." He shakes his head. "But how am I supposed to know what's important to you?"

Guilt flickers through everything else I'm feeling, but I'm riding this rush of anger too fast to let it faze me. "Try some
common sense
, maybe. God. Do you have any idea how embarrassed I am? I have to work with her."

"You're right." He sighs again, the tension draining from his stance. "I should've told you. I was going to, but I didn't know when she was coming back and until then I didn't want to rock what you and I had going on."

"You didn't want to rock it? Like what? We're on a boat? Well now I'm fucking overboard. So congratulations on that." I'm not finished being mad even if he is.
 

"What does that mean, you're overboard?"
 

"It means you should leave." I hate the way my throat tightens, but I'm proud of the way I don't let my eyes drop from his.
 

"Are you serious?" He stares at me, a muscle working in his jaw.

"I…"
Tell him your serious, Cassidy
.
 

"Say it. Tell me to leave again and I will."

"I…" I can't make myself say the words. Because they're not true. "How could you not tell me about her?"

"I already told you."

"I don't care if you thought I didn't want to know anything personal about you!" I'm yelling now. Just because I don't want him to leave doesn't mean he's off the freaking hook. "You're wrong. And even if you weren't? If you were in any way decent, you would've warned me. Two girls you sleep with working together? Come on." Great. I'm pretty much talking in circles at this point, but I can't stop.

"I don't still sleep with her." Why is he so calm? How can he stand there, so
mildly,
while my blood's roaring like it is?

"You
did
." I cringe at the image that comes to mind. And at the jealousy weaving itself through my anger. "God, Gage. I can't do this."

"Yes. You can. This isn't over and we both know it." His expression sharpens. It shouldn't make my breath catch. It shouldn't make me want him.
 

But it does.
 

"There is no
this
. There never was. It's been fun. See ya around." Somehow my anger is twisting into something else. My nerves are sparking and I clench my fingers into fists to keep from reaching out and yanking him against me.
 

"Bullshit." He takes a step closer and, not to be outdone, I do, too. His mouth quirks. I want to lick it. It's like he can tell what I feel because he takes another step. "
This
is a thing."

"No. It's. Not." I grit my teeth and wish my body wouldn't make my words so visibly false. Longing bursts into flames under my skin and I'm certain my cheeks are reddening to give me away.
 

"Bullshit." His tongue darts out, moistening his mouth, and I nearly lose it. It's uncomfortable, almost, finding myself so turned on in the middle of a fight.

"Stop saying that." I'm still mad, but I'm also just completely burning alive with how much I need to feel his hands against my skin.
 

"Bullshit." And then his mouth is on mine and he's kissing me so hard I'm walking backwards and he's guiding me and somehow we're in my room and the door is slamming shut behind us and his lips are hard and soft at the same time and his tongue is demanding and twisting around mine.

"This?" he says, his mouth still against my skin. I breathe in his breath, let it sweep down into my lungs.
 

"Done," I lie. Lie. Lie. "Finished."
 

I kiss him with all that I have.

My knees are jellying. My stomach is hopping. I press harder against him, needing to feel him everywhere,
everywhere
. We're both primed to explode. I claw at his shirt and shove it over his head—and he's yanks my jeans down past my knees. I step out of them and turn, reaching behind me to wrap a hand around his head when he brings his mouth to the nape of my neck.
 

His hands are all over me.
 

Dragging across my breasts, making my nipples harden.
 

Sweeping down my stomach, pressing against my skin with such force my breath catches in my throat.
 

Sliding into my panties, slipping through the wetness pooling there. Teasing me, twisting me, parting me.
 

Heat pulses through me. In my belly. Down my arms. So, so deep between my legs. Building and building and—

Suddenly his hand is gone and I'm moaning, desperate to feel him again. His belt buckle scrapes my skin as he yanks it apart behind me, and his jeans drag along the backs of my knees when he lowers them. The rip of a condom being opened and that yawning pause as he slides it on. Then my underwear is being dragged down, down, down, landing around my ankles and he's pushing against my lower back until I'm leaning with my hands against my bed.
 

"This," he says, ferociously leaning over me, "is not over." The edges of his teeth pull at the skin behind my shoulder, sending little shivers of excited pain shooting down my back, and again I almost lose it.
 

And then he slams into me. No gentle nudging this time—not that it was needed, I'm so ready.
 

He's fierce and demanding, pounding so deeply into me with each thrust I can't help crying out. There's no time for thought, only sensation after sensation. The sounds of skin clapping against skin and the small moans that slip out each time I gasp for air. The tight grip of his hands at my hips, pulling me toward him, growing each time in speed and force. The twist of covers between my fingers as our bodies meet at the sweetest of spots, again and again and again.
 

Hard. Fast. Furious.
 

I buck against him and with him and under him, meeting him, each thrust with enough force to make my arms shake. And soon they aren't the only parts of me shaking.
 

My knees.
 

My ass.
 

My stomach.
 

My breath.
 

One of his hands slips around to touch me…to tease me, pull at me, spread me with his fingers, all while he's ramming into me, harder harder harder until I'm rocking my body back against him and I'm quivering all over and the explosion that comes starts not with a spark but with a
blast
. I think I say his name and I think I might hear him say mine. But I don't know. I don't know. My mind is blank and I am lost once more in the fire of sensations sweeping through me, burning everything in their path with flames that grow hotter and hotter until they consume me completely.
 

Hard. Fast. Furious.
 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Gage and I lie on our backs in my bed, breathing heavily. I'm trembling all over, leftover pulses of pleasure still not completely disappeared. I'm not entirely sure how we got here. I vaguely remember my arms buckling and then tumbling onto my chest, Gage falling on top of me. A twist and a turn and maybe some crawling and here we are. Sweaty and spent.
 

"I told you there was a this," he says, reaching out a hand until I grab it with my own. His fingers tighten around mine.
 

"Fine." I give in, stroking the side of his hand with my thumb. "There's a this."

"Give me a this or give me death… Buddha said it once, a long time ago."
 

I can't help but crack half a smile. I don't know where my anger went. Maybe he pounded it right out of me. I pause to consider my next words. The moment feels like a turning point of sorts, and I don't know how to steer us. "This can't get serious, between us. I don't want it to be complicated."
 

"You made that clear the first night I met you."

I search for an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone but don't find one. Still, I wonder if that's why he's in this…thing or whatever it is with me. Because he knows I don't want a relationship? Because it's easy? Because
I'm
easy?

But I quickly erase that last thought from my mind. Never once have I felt cheap around Gage. He's been all fire and sex and respect. A weird combination, but one I can't get enough of.

 
"Do you still care for Zoey?" I have to ask; the question's been slamming into my chest all night.

He hesitates and I know what his answer will be before he opens his mouth. My heart gives a tug and I have to swallow past a sudden lump in my throat.

"Yes." He turns toward me, waiting until I (with much, much difficultly) meet his gaze. Even though the room is darkened by the night, and even though I'm literally naked before him, I feel more exposed than ever. Surely, there's something on my face, some clue I don't want to give away. Still, he keeps his eyes on mine and his voice steady. "But I don't
want
to care for her. And every day I spend with you takes me farther away from my history with her."

"I get it." I do everything I can to keep my tone light and casual. "You can't help who you have feelings for." I ignore the last part of what he said. The words confuse me too much to sort through right now. He's quiet, so I repeat myself. "I get it. Really."

I'm telling the truth. I do understand, even though his honesty hurts me more than I want it to.
 

Zoey's face pops into my thoughts. Her wide, kind smile, her perfect dimples. I suppose the thing to do here would be to hate her—isn't that how you're supposed to feel about people who've once slept with the person you're currently sleeping with?—but I don't. She still loves Gage. He still cares for her. And he cares for me, too, but I'm determined to steer clear of anything serious, while I don't think she is. Maybe the right thing for me to do here is step back and let them be together.

But I'm not that big of a person.
 

I'm drawn to Gage in ways I barely understood were possible before I met him. I don't want to let him go.