Page 29

I settle into the seat while he rounds the car, and it takes exactly three seconds for my brain to glitch out.
The leather is warm against my body. Soft, expensive, and entirely too intimate.
It’s his scent too. That lethal mix of something spicy and male and wholly unfair. It’s all through the car.
I remind myself that my olfactory response is primal. That pheromones are real. That this is just biology misfiring, not actual attraction.
And yet.
The thrum in my veins says otherwise.
So does the fact I just pressed my knees together.
This is fine.
Everything’s fine.
A moment later, Gage is in the car with me and we’re on our way.
We fill the time talking about my family. How long my parents have been married, my siblings, the fact that my parents requested no children at the party tonight. Gage appears surprised that not even Sarah is allowed, a sentiment I share.
And even though I’m still recovering from the full sensory experience he is tonight, I like talking with him. It’s easy. Gage’s calm energy grounds me.
And the way he handles traffic, completely unbothered? I like it a lot. He doesn’t fidget. Doesn’t check the time. Doesn’t sigh or tap the wheel like he’s too important to be stuck here. He just sits with one hand on the wheel, like he’s got all the time in the world to be with me.
When we arrive at my parents’ building, Gage pulls into the private drive. We leave the car with the valet and take the elevator up to their residence. The doors open into the foyer, and a few moments later, we step into the great room. Tonight, it’s been transformed into something closer to a ballroom. Toweringflorals, polished floors, a string quartet in the corner, and enough couture to rival fashion week.
I’m suddenly reminded of what I hate about these things.
The people.
Gage must sense my hesitation. His hand comes to the small of my back and he bends his mouth to my ear. “Everything okay?”
Yes.
No.
I stop and turn into him, and because he didn’t see that coming, he collides with me. His hands come to my hips to steady me, and honestly, this man should be banned from being in my presence.
It’s complete hormonal chaos inside me.
“Fuck,” he curses softly, caught off guard. “Sorry.”
“No, that’s on me,” I say as my brain malfunctions at the question of where to put my hands. They went straight to his abs when we crashed into each other.
I try to step back but there must be someone behind me because Gage’s hands tighten on my hips, keeping me right where I am, which is approximately way too close to him.
He nods to the person, waits until they pass, then lets me go. His gaze returns to mine, curious.Why did I suddenly turn around?
“I don’t do well at parties,” I confess. “It’s too many people, and too many”—I gesture with one hand while trying to find the right word—“expectations.”
I don’t think he’s surprised by my admission. “Okay, so we’re not staying too long.”
He says that like it’s simply a fact he’s updating in his mind. He’s not taking it as a decision to be argued over or a choice of mine that needs to be changed.
I’m not used to that. To someone hearing me and not trying to talk me out of what I need.
“That’s my preference.”