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But it’s not.
It’s personal.
Every detail tells me he’s been paying attention.
He didn’t just build a space to fuck me in.
He built a space forme to find out what I want.
To explore.
To experience.
To feel safe in.
To come undonewithhim, not justforhim.
“This is a love letter,” I whisper.
He moves into me, one hand sliding into my hair, the other skimming my jaw with a touch that says,I see you. I built this for you. I’d build more.
“This room’s yours,” he says, gravel-rough and tightly leashed. “Every chair, every inch of velvet, every goddamn camera. I’ll fuck you in it any way you want, but first, I want to watch you forget the world exists. Forget the rules you’ve been living by. And figure out whatyouwant, when the only thing that matters is what sets you on fire.”
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t crowd me.
Doesn’t push.
This isn’t the Gage who backs me into walls or kisses like he’s starving.
This is the Gage who builds temples and waits at the altar.
And god help me, I think this version might ruin me even faster.
His thumb grazes along my jaw. “There’s an app for your phone. It controls the cameras. It’s yours. You’re the only onewho sees what’s filmed in here unless you choose to share it. You decide when we hit record. You keep the key.” A beat. A breath. “You don’t have to set foot in the club unless you want to. The private entrance is yours now. I’ll add your hand to the scanner.” His eyes hold mine, fierce and steady as a vow. “I might take your body apart in this room, Amelia, but you own every second of it.”
My fingers fist into his shirt like it might tether me to reality, but nothing can ground me now. Not withthisman saying things likethatin a room he built to worship me in.
He’s cracked me wide open.
I am bare skin and heartbeat and surrender.
And I need his lips on mine right now more than I need oxygen.
My hand is around his neck before I’ve even taken another breath.
Our mouths collide, passion sparking so intensely my body is fire.
Gone is the Gage who was able to restrain himself. Now, he’s devouring me.
Hands gripping, tongues tangling, control unraveling with every breath.
His jacket hits the floor. Then his shirt.
Heat rolls off him like this isn’t just about sex. It’s about me. About us. About everything that hasn’t been said out loud yet.
His hands find the skin beneath the slit in my dress, possessive, and just shy of indecent. And then I’m in his arms, legs wrapping around him. I grab his mouth again like I’ll fall apart without it, my fingers gripping his face hard, claiming him as mine.