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Then, he takes charge.
“Why don’t you go and get dressed, and I’ll go sit with Sarah and make sure she’s okay.”
“My dress is ruined, Gage, and I’m not sure I’m up to seducing you tonight.”
“Consider me seduced. A long fucking time ago. Put on whatever’s comfortable.”
I grip his suit jacket, needing to stay in this moment right here with him for longer than a second. “Thank you.” It’s a whisper, and only two words, but they carry the weight of an entire day, and the way he held it like it wasn’t too much.
A few minutes later, I’m in my bedroom finding something to wear when my elevator dings and I hear Tim talking with Gage. Leaving them to each other, I decide to follow Gage’s suggestion and opt for comfort. I put on my favorite soft black cashmere sweater and high-waisted jeans. No shapewear. No effort to smooth or sculpt. I towel-dry my hair one last time, then grab the blow dryer and run it through quickly. I pull my hair into a messy bun, and swipe on a little concealer and mascara. Just enough to say I showed up.
I’ve just finished applying the mascara when I receive a text from Tim. From my living room.
Tim:
I swear to God, if you don’t go on this date, I will ground you.
And for the first time today, I laugh.
19
Amelia
After I cleaned up the bedroom disaster scene and handed off my child to her uncle, Gage brought me to his place. He asked me what I wanted him to order in for dinner. All I could think was I needed carbs. Urgent carbs. Soul-repairing carbs. I may have said all those words to him. I may also have told him I needed to be emotionally held by parmesan. I didn’t even care about the way he looked at me at that point. Like he was thoroughly amused by me. I told him to please find me real carbonara. The good kind. No cream, no lies.
He ordered dinner, opened a bottle of pinot noir (which I’ve now decided is my preferred emotional support beverage until further notice), and pulled me down onto his couch like we do this every Monday.
Oh, and he may have discarded all those black items of clothing and changed into a slate-grey henley and dark jeans in the middle of all that. Don’t get me started on what that did to me.
Dinner was amazing. The absolute best carbonara in New York. Gage obviously knows people. Lucky for me he’s currently focused on dating me. I may insist on him arranging all my future meals. I’ll tip with emotional vulnerability and general cuteness.
We’ve talked our way through the evening like we’ve done this a hundred times before. Like this is just...what we do.
Wine. Pasta. Low lighting. My parmesan-providing god in a henley that could end civilizations.
And somewhere in between the pinot and the pasta, I’ve moved past my earlier spiral. Gage hasn’t pressed me to talk about it. He’s just let me come down slowly. Which, honestly, is sexy. I might be catching feelings for a man because he handed me cheese and didn’t ask follow-up questions.
After dinner, I’m basking in full post-pasta bliss when Gage sets his wine glass on the coffee table and reaches for me. He pulls me onto his lap, his hands sliding up my thighs around to my ass. One hand then comes up to my neck, and he brings my mouth down to his.
He kisses me like he’s been thinking about it every second since we had sex. It’s downright dirty the way he uses his tongue and the way his hand stays glued to my ass like he owns it. Like he’s not planning to let go anytime soon.
Breathing is now more of a suggestion than a reality.
“Fuck,” he growls when he finally breaks the kiss, his breath ragged like mine. “This mouth...” He drags his thumb across my lower lip, his eyes locked on it like he’s memorizing the shape. He doesn’t finish that thought. Just pulls my mouth back to his.
He’s rough.
All tension and zero patience.
His hands are under my sweater, leaving fire in their wake as they find my breasts. When he reaches them, he groans sodeeply into my mouth that I feel it in my core, in my toes, in parts of my body I’m not sure I even knew existed.
It drives me absolutely wild, to the point where everything is too much, and I need a minute.
Tearing my mouth from his, I put my hands to his chest and justbreathe.
Gage’s hands move to my waist, his eyes finding mine. He’s just as affected as me. “You okay?” God, hisvoice. The gravel. The need I hear.
I nod, still searching for breath. “Yes. I just... you can’t groan like that and expect a girl to be able to go on.”