Who He Is (FireNine, book 1) (26 page)

My fingers
got tangled in his hair, my breath continuously catching. I was trying to keep up with myself, but his tongue worked miracles against me. I finally decided I’d had enough. I pushed him back by the shoulders and pulled his shirt over his head. The palms of my hands pressed against his firm, inked chest and slid down until I was at the button of his jeans.

I looked into his eyes quickly and he was staring at me, his eyes glazed over and longing but slightly worried. I ignored the worry and ran with the longing. I unbuttoned his jeans and then hopped from the washing machine to pull his pants down. He sucked in a breath
through clenched teeth as I lowered his jeans and then stuck my hands beneath his boxers. His flesh was soft and at my first touch, his whole body tensed. I started pulling back, but he shook his head. “Don’t,” he murmured, pulling me against him, his breath running across my lips. “Don’t stop. It feels good.” His forehead touched mine and I nodded, continuing the strokes again.

He tilted my chin up with his forefinger, his lips only a sl
iver away from mine. He panted as he stared into my eyes while I continuously stroked him. I’d never done this before so I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but he was getting pleasure out of it so I kept it going. Some mild profanity slipped between his teeth, his lips extremely close. He cursed again and I couldn’t take it anymore. I crushed his lips with my own, but I didn’t stop stroking the length of him.

He was thicker than I imagined. He was long as well, and I knew with what was in my hands, he could provide nothing but satisfaction
to a woman’s body.

I moaned into his mouth and he cupped my face, deepening the kiss. His panting increased and a heavier, tighter ache built between my legs. I wanted him there. I wanted what was in my hands
inside
me
already.

“Gage,” I whispered.

“Eliza, please don’t stop. I’m so close,” he breathed against me, making my stomach spiral. I swallowed. I didn’t want to stop and, in a freaky perspective, I liked seeing him this way. I liked how I provided his pleasure—how I had control over whether he was satisfied or not.

Gage turned
and my back hit the wall. His chest pressed firmly on mine and he kissed me again as I slid my hand up and down his smooth hardness. He throbbed against my palms and groaned, deeply lodging his tongue into my mouth. His pleasure was burning and radiating into me. He growled against my lips before snatching his mouth away and lowering his head to kiss my neck. He hissed my name, tensing even more, and I knew it was coming.

I pumped harder, faster, and he gripped the back of my neck,
digging his fingers into my skin. He cursed again, getting harder and harder until finally he growled loudly and sucked on my neck so hard I thought he’d bitten me. It was definitely going to leave a hickey. After a while, his sucking turned pleasurable and something hot and wet oozed down my hand. Knowing exactly what it was, I shook my head over his shoulder, my smile apprehensive.

Gage pulled back slowly, smirking down at me with lazy, infatuated eyes. “That was
fucking great,” he murmured. “My turn now.” My eyes expanded, but I was left with no time to protest (I really didn’t want to) because he kissed me fiercely and my knees quaked as he placed me on top of the washing machine again. He’d changed the roles in a heartbeat and by the end of our eagerness—after a few heavenly minutes of Gage’s warm lips and tongue diving and licking the delicate, sweet nub between my legs—I was left completely satisfied.

Things moved
at a faster pace after Gage and I established that maybe we did care for each other more than we were supposed to. A month and three weeks had passed since our bonfire bonding, but it didn’t feel like it’d been that long. The days and nights turned into weeks and it all started to become a messy blur. I knew it was because I didn’t have to worry over Gage or be a witness to his mindlessness. We were on better, sexier terms, and I was enjoying myself.

The cities passed by effortlessly and with each night there was fun with the addition of kissing, hugging, dancing, and laughing. On a few nights it would catch up to me and
in the mornings my head would be killing me, but as Gage always said, “Suck it up. At least you’re still alive.”

From state to state
, I learned something new about Gage. I found out his favorite song he’d ever written was the song the band hated. He admitted it was juvenile and that he was never going to sing it publicly, but after begging him for fifteen minutes straight, he finally sang it to me and I fell in love with the lyrics. How could I not? They were adorable and with his voice, I melted with each word.

“You hate it, don’t you?” he asked,
unstrapping his guitar and placing it down.

I shook my head and climbed on his lap. Our touc
hing was another thing that shocked a few, more so Ben, but he didn’t question it. In fact, he would smile at us from a distance. He used to wonder why I never went out, why I never talked to any boys, so seeing me flirting and going out with Gage, he didn’t complain much. I still couldn’t get over what he’d said to me a few weeks ago about keeping my heart away from Gage. My mind was still boggled over it, but it was something I never wanted to talk about again.

“I don’t hate it. I love it,” I said. His lips curled into a smirk and then he kissed my cheek.

A few more things I learned about Gage (that I never would have expected) were, one: he loved to cuddle, and two: he loved to touch. Any time we were together, his hands had to be on me unless they were occupied. Whether it was the small of my back, around my waist, around my shoulders, or even holding my hand, he was touching me somehow. I didn’t mind it. It was comforting and something I enjoyed because I’d never shared that with anyone before.

As for the cuddling part, whenever we were on the road and heading for another state, he would beg me to ride on the FireNine bus with him. I’d sleep in his bed after a night of laughing, giggling, flirting, play wrestling, and a few drinks in between. Roy and Deed tried their best to stay clear of us (which annoyed me) but Montana had become my best fr
iend. I loved Montana’s personality, his meekness. Although he was a party animal and a massive flirt, he was still a sweet guy and knew exactly how to have fun.

During one of the bus rides, we decided to play a small game of beer pong. Since the boys hardly ever ate or drank on the bus, we had to use coffee mugs because they didn’t own any plastic cups. Montana filled each one with beer and pulled a white ball out of his suitcase.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never played beer pong before either, Miss Eliza,” Montana said, smirking at me over the bottle of beer in his hand.

“Nope, never.” I shrugged.

Gage stepped to my side and laughed. “She’s new to a lot of stuff.”

“I can see that.” Montana rolled the ball in his hand. “I guess to make it easier on her, you can be on her team. Don’t need her crying on us
or anything,” he teased.

I laughed. “Oh, whatever. Explain to me how to play.”

Montana explained and every so often Gage would say something in my ear about when to drink and how to throw. Once we’d started, I was a complete klutz. I threw the ball over the table quite a few times and Gage and Montana would laugh so hard at me while handing me a mug of beer to drink. Due to my suckiness, I drank most of the beers and became lightheaded.

“Oh, shit.” Montana chuckled. “She’s stumbling. Should we stop?”

I shook my head and Gage stepped to my side to hook his arm around my waist and keep me steady. Laughing at me, he said, “I think we should, Ellie.”

My gaze swung up to his quickly. His eyes locked with mine and a warm smile curled his lips. I turned in his arms to lace mine around his neck. He wasn’t surprised by the gesture. In fact, he pulled me in even tighter, his fingers curling around the belt loo
ps of my shorts.

“All right.” Montana laughed, grabbing one of the coffee mugs. “I’m off to my room. Night, freaks.”

Gage and I ignored him. Montana’s footsteps trailed off and his door clicked shut behind him, but my eyes remained focused on Gage’s. I couldn’t force myself to look away. One thing about being drunk was it made me vulnerable, and every time I was with Gage, I wanted to hook my legs around him and make out until I was out of breath.

He slowly licked his lips, his breathing even as he moved in closer. “I’ve got to stop getting you drunk,” he murmured teasingly.

I smiled up at him, moving in closer. Heat radiated from his body to mine, and soon I pressed my cheek against his chest. Oh boy, my head was swimming badly. With the bus moving, it wasn’t helping my stomach, either.

“Are you okay?” he asked into my hair.

“I should have told you I didn’t eat much earlier.”

Gage stiffened and pulled back a little. Tilting my chin with his finger, he gazed into my eyes, his head cocked. “Do you feel sick?”

“A little,” I admitted.

He sighed, lifting me into his arms. I laid the side of my head against his chest and his heartbeat soothed me a little. He hurried to his room and placed me on the bed. He then bent down to take off my shoes.

“Don’t stare at my feet.” I giggled.

He laughed, removing my socks as well. He took a good look at my toes that were painted a metallic blue and then looked up at me. “They’re cute.” I rolled my eyes and he stood up straight. “
Do you wanna take a quick shower? I can go find something for you eat while you’re in there.”

The shower sounded nice so I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I didn’t know why I felt so weak. My knees were wobbly and as we stepped into the bathroom and the light turned on, I winced. Gage noticed me stiffen at his side and looked down at me, his eyes clouded with worry.

He lifted me up, placing me on the counter and stepping between my legs. I shut my eyes, craving to just lie against his chest. That’s all I wanted. The warmth of his body. His small forehead kisses. “Eliza,” he called. My eyelids fluttered open, and he lowered a bit, ducking his head to try and catch my droopy eyes. “You’re really out of it,” he laughed. “We’re gonna have to cut back on some of the drinking. I always forget you’re a lightweight.”

I bit on a smile
and then reached for the hem of my shirt. Not thinking, I pulled it over my head, the cotton blocking my view of him. As soon as I tossed my shirt on the floor, he was staring at me and had taken a step back. His eyes that were once smiling were now hard and his lips were pressed together into a thin line.

“I’ll start the shower,” he murmured. He stole a glance of my purple bra before turning and sliding open the shower door. I shut my eyes again and pressed my back against the mirror. It was cold against my back but felt good considering how flushed and heated I was becoming. My stomach
was boiling over and I knew it was the beers, but I kept absolutely still. I refused to vomit in front of Gage. It would have been too unladylike of me.

The water from the shower spluttered an
d I heard Gage sigh. “Come on, Sweet Ellie.” He grunted, helping me get down from the counter. I opened my eyes and looked at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was too busy trying to unbutton my pants. A line drew between his eyebrows, showing how focused and determined he was to get them undone. Little did he know he had three more buttons to undo before I could slip out of them. I laughed at the thought and he looked up at me. “What?” he said, laughing back.

“Nothing,” I murmured.

He shook his head with a small smile, lowering himself into a squat. He saw the three buttons and looked up at me, smiling even harder. “Sneaky girl.”

I smirked as he finally undid the first button. Steam
filled the bathroom, making me even more flushed. I could have helped him, but I liked that he had his hands on me. I liked seeing him concentrate. It was cute.

Finally undoing the last button, he slid my shorts down to my ankles. I was glad I had on a cute pair of lacey pink panties. Wearing granny panties in front of Gage wouldn’t have been so
appealing. But during my thought of granny panties, the bathroom had become completely silent. Outside of the running shower water, we were still, unmoving.

He took a look up at me beneath his long, thick eyelashes, sliding his hands up my thighs. His fingers slid around to the back of my legs and his breathing picked up. He was
panting, and so was I. He slowly licked his lips, his eyes moving from mine to my bra and then down to my panties. The look in his eyes was driving me insane. I wanted to know so badly what he was thinking, but instead, I remained quiet.

Each
passing second felt like an hour… and then he finally made a move, lowering his head, his gaze drifting from my body. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

He shook his head and slowly stood up straight. There were a few things behind his eyes I could make out as he stared into mine. Pleasure. Longing. Annoyance. Guilt. Why did I spot annoyance and guilt? I was about to question it until he took a step back to get to the door. “Shower up, Ellie. I’ll bring you a towel.”

I zipped my lips, watching as the door shut behind him. Sighing, I slipped out of my bra and panties and stepped into the warm steam of the shower. As it ran over me, I exhaled, but out of nowhere, tightness crept up my throat. I turned quickly to find the drain, allowing vomit to splurge. Fire burned my stomach and throat. It hurt so badly. I’d never vomited from drinking before, but it was the worst feeling. At least I had the warm water to soothe me and at least the vomit wasn’t thick and clumpy. It easily went down the drain and once my stomach was clear, I stood up straight and felt ten times better. I was still drunk without a doubt, but knowing my stomach was free of that mess made me a bit of a happy camper.

Grabbing the bar soap, I lathered it over me, my head tilted back in the running water until the bathroom door creaked open. My eyes widened, seeing Gage through the opaque glass door of the shower. His figure was solid, sexy. His strides toward the shower were cautious as he placed the towel on the rod.

He was about to turn around, but, surprisingly, I called his name and he stopped, taking a glance over his shoulder. A million thoughts were running through my drunken head. One of them was to tell him thanks… just because. Another was to ask for a kiss. It was odd, but I just wanted to feel him. The last was to tell him to come into the shower with me.

“Yeah?” Gage called, turning around.

I chewed on my bottom lip, the silence ringing between us. Finally, I asked, “Can you come in with me?”

He remained quiet for a few seconds. Through the opaque glass, he was perfectly still. Unmoving. Then, slowly and still quiet, he pulled his shirt over his head. He unbuttoned his jeans, kicked off his shoes, slid out of his boxers and jeans, and then walked toward the shower. My heart raced with each step closer. It raced even more as he grabbed the ha
ndle of the shower door and slid it open.

He stepped in without looking at me and I stepped beneath the water, as if it were going to hide my naked body. I held the bar of soap against my chest and as soon as Gage slid the shower door shut behind him, his heavy hazel eyes met mine.

For the most part, we were quiet. It wasn’t awkward to stare because he had more than enough to stare at and keep me quiet. Although the features of his face were hard, his eyes were tranquil, admiring the naked aspects of my body. My eyes traveled from his face to his broad chest. There was a tattoo of a woman’s name right below his left collarbone, almost where his heart would be. The name was
Chloe
and was in a flowing script.

The dragon on his ribs was defined;
the blue and black stood out most. A splash of orange came out of its mouth and its head was tilted up, as if it were burning his armpit. My eyes continued traveling southward until they got to the main attraction. He wasn’t soft. He was hard, probably harder than a rock. I had the urge to grab him, stroke him… maybe even get a taste of him, but I held off, suddenly realizing I was the reason he was getting turned on.