WET DENIM CONSTRICTED painfully against his straining cock. Taking them two at a time, Gage bounded up the stairs. If he didn’t find a bed in the next thirty seconds he was going to take her right in the middle of the hallway.
And while that might have been one of the fantasies his teenage mind had played out all those years ago, he thought he’d gained some control since then. Apparently not. Not where Hope was concerned.
At the top of the stairs four doors lined the hallway. Bedrooms? Bathrooms? An office? She saved him by saying, “Last door on the right.”
He strode across her bedroom, a red haze of need clouding everything but his focus on her.
Her hair was damp against his arm. His own skin felt clammy and tight, as if the rain had pounded straight into his pores. He wanted a shower, but he wanted her more.
His knees hit the bed and he dropped her onto the soft surface. But before he could follow her down Hope had already popped back up, her hands grappling with his fly.
Her fingers brushed the throbbing ridge of his erection. She tugged at the tab of his zipper. It went down a centimeter and then stopped. She jerked at it, up and down, metal grinding against metal, but it didn’t budge.
Round, disbelieving eyes collided with his. “It’s stuck.”
Of course it was. The universe was conspiring against him, that was all there was to it.
He laughed. What else could he do? Gage grabbed her hands and fell to the bed with her lush body sprawled across him.
“This isn’t funny,” she exclaimed, staring down at him as if he was on the verge of losing his mind. Maybe he was.
“Yes...yes, it is. I finally get you naked and I can’t get my damn pants off.” He devolved into laughter again. It was either that or scream in frustration. Laughter was the saner response...but only just.
Hope didn’t join him. Apparently she didn’t see the humor. Instead, the sharp heels of her palms dug into his chest as she levered herself off of him so that she could study him with narrowed eyes. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth. He wanted to do that, but considering his dick was currently being held hostage, that probably wasn’t a good idea.
“How much do you like them?”
“Right now? Not at all.”
“Good.”
She crawled up his body and across the bed. He nearly groaned when her sex, still wet and swollen from the release he’d given her downstairs, hovered right above his face.
Dammit! Now this was torture. If the insurgents had dangled a willing and aroused Hope just out of his reach he might have told them whatever they wanted.
With a moan of surrender, even as he realized this agony would be self-inflicted, Gage surged up to taste her. A tremor rocked through her body and her hips bucked against his mouth.
“Gage,” she cautioned, breathlessly, as something metallic clattered above his head. He was too preoccupied to puzzle out the source of the sound.
To his amusement, and disappointment, after several moments, Hope physically launched herself backward out of his hold. She knelt between his open knees, her breasts bobbing up and down with each labored breath and a gleaming pair of scissors clutched triumphantly in one hand and a condom in the other.
“Have I mentioned that you’re amazing?” he asked. Folding his arms beneath his head, Gage held still and waited for her to start cutting.
“You might want to wait until they’re off,” she suggested, opening and closing the scissors with a metallic snick.
She wrapped a hand in his waistband again and pointed the scissors straight for his groin. “Uh,” he started to protest, but thought better of whatever he was going to say. Better not to distract a woman with a sharp object that close to his cock.
In one clean snip a jagged line appeared beside his fly.
Finally. The relief—figuratively and literally—was unbelievable. There was nothing left to prevent him from having Hope.
The scissors clattered to the floor, probably the safest place for them right now. Her hand plunged into the opening she’d created and wrapped around his aching sex. He gasped and nearly jackknifed off the bed. A purr of satisfaction rolled through her chest and echoed deep inside him.
She worked him, squeezing, stroking, driving him crazy. Her fingers slipped over the sensitive head of his cock, making his hips thrust and beg for more. Hell, if she kept doing that his pants wouldn’t make it off before he exploded.
And that was not how this night was going to go. He’d waited too long for this for it to be over that quickly.
Grasping her wrist, he pulled her hand away. Her lips drew down into a deliciously tempting pout. He’d never been the kind of guy to like that sort of thing, but on Hope everything looked good.
Lifting his hips, he pushed the ruined jeans down his body. Hope realized what he wanted and helped.
He saw the gleam in her eyes. The way she stared at him and licked her lips. His cock jerked, wanting closer to that mouth. Oh, yeah, he was in trouble.
Executing preemptive maneuvers, Gage pulled her back to the bed and flattened her onto her stomach. He rose above her, his hand pressing gently into her spine to keep her exactly where he wanted...while he regained some equilibrium and much-needed control.
His mouth touched down onto the center of her back and she shivered. He trailed his tongue up the sensitive knots of her spine, relishing the taste and feel of her skin. Sweet. Hot. Perfect. Better than anything he’d ever imagined.
“Didn’t you get enough of this downstairs?” Hope craned her neck around so that she could look at him.
He smiled wickedly against her skin, latching onto the nape of her neck and relishing the broken sound when she sucked in a breath. “Never.”
He worked his way down again, nipping at the pale, round globes of her ass. She writhed beneath him. Her thighs fell open and he could smell the heady scent of her arousal. For him.
His hands followed the same path, urging her wider so that he could see all of her.
Downstairs he’d been hell-bent on making her scream as fast and hard as possible. He wasn’t taking the chance that she would come to her senses and change her mind. Not without a taste of her.
Now that he knew she wasn’t going to tell him to leave...he could take his time. And that’s exactly what he intended to do.
His fingers slipped down the dent of her rear, following the path until he reached the slippery entrance to her sex. He hadn’t taken the time to touch and explore. Now he did, learning all he could about her.
The way her body clenched when he pushed into her channel the slightest bit, trying to beckon him farther. The broken sound she made when his thumb pressed against her clit. The shiver of her body. The unconscious grind of her hips.
She buried her forehead against the bed when he plunged a finger deep inside her and strained back against the invasion, asking for more. Kneeling between her open thighs, he bent over and sucked gently on the tender bundle of nerves at the base of her spine. He worked his fingers in and out of her, slowly, steadily, driving them both crazy.
His own hips pumped in time to the thrust of his hand, wanting nothing more than to bury to the hilt deep inside her.
Not. Yet.
He had good intentions, but Hope took them all away. Surging away from him, she lunged across the bed, twisted and threw something at him. He caught the tiny square packet right before it hit his face. His battle-honed reflexes were the only thing that kept him from getting a corner in the eye.
“Now, Gage. Please,” she begged, her beautifully naked body spread-eagled across the bed.
How could he deny her anything? Especially something he wanted so desperately himself.
Rolling the condom down over his aching erection, Gage grasped Hope’s thighs and pulled her back to him. He didn’t bother turning her over, but lifted her up onto her knees and drove deep inside her.
She let out a strangled sound. He stilled. She warned, “Don’t you dare stop,” with what little breath she still had.
He’d always been good at taking orders. Okay, that was a lie. But he’d gotten a hell of a lot better at it.
The walls of her sex held on to him, squeezing tight. She rolled her hips and he nearly lost it. His fingers bit into her, trying to keep her still. But neither of them could stand it.
Gage pulled slowly out and then sank back into her. He did it again, running a hand down her spine. Hope followed him, grinding back against him so that she could get more, taking everything.
Desperation swamped him. Touching her, having her, thrusting deep inside her felt so damn good. Gage ground his teeth together, trying to stretch this out and prolong the moment. But he’d wanted her way too long for that to last. His body had other ideas.
Pretty soon he was thrusting against her so hard and fast that he couldn’t tell when one surge ended and another began. Hope panted. They both did. He couldn’t catch his breath, but who cared about dying? Not him. Not now.
With one hand he held Hope’s hips in place. The other pressed her shoulders tight to the bed. He could feel the tremors of her release tempting him to just let go. Every muscle in her body quivered, on the edge of something great.
He felt it, too. Knew what was coming. Together, they strained for release. And when it hit, it overwhelmed them both.
Hope’s hands gripped the bed so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her mouth was locked open on a silent scream that her body was too busy to let free.
Gage didn’t have that problem. The orgasm hit like a fist upside the head. A kaleidoscope of color flashed across his eyes. The room spun and he wasn’t sure he was even still upright. The tight grip of Hope’s sex clutched on to him, the only solid and certain thing.
Several minutes later the world righted itself and Gage realized Hope was pinned beneath his leaden body. At least he’d had the forethought to land half on and half off of her. Although, he could still feel the jerky hitch of an aftershock as it rumbled through her body.
After several minutes, she stirred, disentangling their limbs and shoving him away so she could flop bonelessly onto her back. For a second her callous treatment bothered him—casual sex had never concerned him before, but this was Hope—until she pulled his arm back over her hip and curled into him.
She buried her nose against his collarbone, and her soft words whispered against his skin. “Thank God I never knew you were that good. I might not have found the resolve to watch you go.”
* * *
HOPE STRETCHED SLOWLY, a smile on her face before her eyes had even opened. Several places on her body protested, but she ignored them. Not even sore muscles could take away the contentment that effervesced through her.
The smell of frying bacon drifted up the stairs from the kitchen. She couldn’t remember having bacon to cook.
Even though the tantalizing scent meant he couldn’t be there beside her, Hope found herself reaching out and running her hand across the cool sheet where Gage should have been. The spot didn’t have any residual body heat. How long had he been up?
And why did it bother her that he hadn’t slept as soundly as she had?
A sharp sound reverberating from her front door prevented her from looking too closely at her reaction. Nothing good could come from it, anyway.
Grabbing a robe off the back of her bathroom door, Hope padded down the stairs on bare feet. Her hand was inches away from the knob when Gage appeared beside the banister, a spatula hanging loosely in his hand.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Hope froze. He looked amazing. His chest was bare and the jeans he’d thrown on rode low on his hips. Where the hell had they come from? He hadn’t bothered to zip or snap them, which made Hope seriously consider how easy it would be to get him back out of them.
Another knock pounded on the door behind her.
Frowning, she spun away to glare at the thing. She took a single step toward it. Shaking his head, Gage said, “Suit yourself,” and then turned back to the kitchen.
Bypassing the door, Hope headed for the window that ran beside it so that she could see who was assaulting her door this early in the morning. And was shocked at the sight that greeted her.
There was no sign of the bike Gage had parked at the curb yesterday when they’d driven home in the rain. Instead, a handful of news trucks occupied the space, their satellite antennas stretching high against the bright blue sky.
There must have been fifteen or twenty people milling around on her front lawn. Women in suits and full makeup. Men in ties and fancy dress shoes. Almost all of them had paper coffee cups from the diner clutched in their hands.
“What the hell,” she exclaimed. Several people closest to the house turned to look at her—apparently she needed to get thicker windows, not that soundproofing had been a real issue before today. Several of them leaped into action, grabbing up cameras and snapping off several pictures before she had a chance to duck back behind the door.
“I told you,” Gage hollered from the safety of her kitchen.
Careful not to walk in front of the windows, Hope headed into the back of the house.
“What is going on?” she demanded, stopping just inside the room and crossing her arms over her chest.
Gage, standing at her stove, the handle of her skillet in one hand and the spatula in the other, tossed a frown at her over his shoulder. “I’m making omelets. Do you want bacon or veggie?”
“I don’t want either!”
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Hope.” Tigger wound in a figure eight between his open feet.
“I want to know what those people are doing on my front lawn.”
“I’d think that was obvious. Especially for someone who works at a newspaper. They’re waiting for a story.”
Frustration jangled through her. “But why do they expect to find one here?” she asked slowly, hoping eventually she’d hit on the right question to ask him so that she’d get some answers.
He shrugged. “You’d know that better than I would.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” she asked, a dangerous edge creeping into her voice.
“Well, I didn’t stop long enough to ask them, Hope. I didn’t think that would be smart. My guess is that someone tipped them off that I was over here.” He eyed her with speculation.
“You think I called them?” Incredulity made her voice squeak. She cleared it away, irritated with herself. “Why in God’s name would I do that?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
She wouldn’t, for a number of reasons, but the most important one being the people currently camped out on her front lawn were the competition. Just thinking the word made a sharp pain lance through her belly. No, she would not feel guilty about this! She hadn’t done anything wrong. She had not called them.
Gage’s jaw muscles rippled. Apparently he decided her silence was as good as admission.
“You’re the only person who knew I was here.”
“Not true,” Hope answered slowly. “Willow knew exactly what was going to happen when we left that bowling alley.”
“So you think your friend sold you out?”
“No!” Hope yelled, throwing her hands up with annoyance. “But all it would have taken was an innocent comment to explain why we’d left and everyone within hearing distance probably jumped to the same conclusion. Besides, your bike was parked outside my house all night. You know how efficient the Sweetheart grapevine is. Everyone in town probably knew you were staying the night before we’d even made it upstairs to the bed.”
Gage hummed in the back of his throat. “True.”
“God, I really hate this town.”
He threw her a skeptical glance.
“Sometimes. Most of the time.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it isn’t, Hope. I know you, probably better than just about anyone.”
“You knew me. Past tense.”
He shrugged. “You’re stubborn. Once you’ve made up your mind nothing can change it. If you wanted out of here you’d already be gone.”
“My dad was sick.”
“And now he isn’t.”
“I’ve taken over so much at the paper.”
“Which you could walk away from tomorrow. There are other employees, right?”
“Yes, but none of them are family. That’s my heritage.”
“Which you don’t want.” A single eyebrow quirked up in a condescending arch. “Lip service, that’s all it is. If you ask me, you don’t really want to leave Sweetheart.”
Hope’s eyes widened. A nasty knot of sludgy emotions filled her belly. Suddenly, she wasn’t very hungry.
She opened her mouth to snarl at him about the article she was going to write—her ticket out of here—but realized she couldn’t rub it in his face without tipping her hand.
The article she hadn’t even made an attempt to work on since they’d been paired together. He was right. What had happened to her resolve? Apparently it had been trumped by her wayward libido.
Maybe now that her lust had been slaked perhaps she could focus.
Gage shifted at her stove, flashing a glimpse of the open V at his hips. The chain reaction through her body was immediate and depressingly obvious. Her knees trembled.
Giving him her back, Hope called him every derogatory name she could think of beneath her breath. And the idiot had the audacity to grin knowingly at her. He was playing dirty.
The mischievously sexy grin made her heart flip-flop.
Which only made her angrier—with herself. He’d been home how many days? And not only had she let him into her bed, but she’d also let him worm his way back into her life. Her attraction to him was clouding her judgment and distracting her from the plan.
Another knock reverberated through her front hall. It was the catalyst that sent her sailing over the edge of civility.
The vultures on her front stoop had gone too far. They’d cast a pall over the night that she and Gage had just shared and they were trying to horn in on her story.
Hope headed for the fireplace at the far end of her living room. Above the rough-hewn beam that served as her mantel, the shotgun her great-grandpa had used to defend his land almost one hundred years ago hung in the place of honor.
It was an heirloom, and while it had once been a fine piece of weaponry, it hadn’t been shot in at least forty years. But the people on her front lawn didn’t know that. Worse, they were so obviously city types that they probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a museum-quality rifle and one that could shoot buckshot into their backsides.
At least that’s what she was hoping for.
Scraping the hair back from her forehead, she thought about throwing some clothes on, but decided if she did she might lose her momentum.
Hope stalked to the front door, snatched the knob and yanked it open. As one, the twenty-odd people on her front lawn turned to stare at her.
“Oh, hell,” Gage said from behind her.
She shot a glare at him over her shoulder, hoping the heat in her eyes was all the warning he needed to stay put. The last thing she wanted was for him to walk out behind her half-naked and blunt the impact of her gun.
She grasped the rifle in both hands just as her daddy had taught her. She might not have ever needed to shoot a gun, but every good Southern girl worth her salt at least knew how. The woods that bordered the town were full of dangerous animals—cougars, bears, coyotes, bobcats.
“This is private property. You have exactly ninety seconds to clear out before I start shooting.”
“Come on, Ms. Rawlings, you’re one of us,” a voice yelled from the back of the group.
She smiled, baring her teeth in an unfriendly snarl that probably resembled one of the animals her skills were supposed to defend against. “No, I’m not. I’m a journalist, not a vulture happy to pick through the scraps of someone’s misfortune. Now, just to be fair, I should probably point out that the sheriff is my godfather and if I tell him I was afraid the mob on my front lawn was about to turn rabid he’s likely to believe me.”
To prove her point, Hope raised the rifle to her shoulder, closed one eye and sighted down the barrel, picking out a man in the back of the pack to aim at. If the rifle had actually been loaded she never would have done that, but since she didn’t even own bullets for the damn thing...
The bluff worked and everyone scattered. She was actually impressed at how quickly they could move. Unfortunately, several of them paused long enough to snap a photograph. She’d probably regret this when she appeared in a newspaper or online somewhere. She could already see the headline—Crazed Local Journalist Threatens First Amendment with a Rifle.
When she was certain they were all leaving Hope walked back inside, closed the door and then sagged heavily against it.
“Hell.”
Gage stood there, two plates in his hands, and stared at her across the space.
“You’re remarkable, you know that?”