Cassidy woke up in degrees, feeling as though she were clawing her way to the top of a muggy swamp.
Ugh. She creaked open her eyes.
Oh. Gage’s face was a mere inch away from hers. The moment she saw him, all of her crankiness at waking up in a furnace dissipated.
Was there ever a moment this man wasn’t beautiful? She drank him in as the morning light filtering through her window highlighted his every feature.
He slept with his mouth closed.
Of course he does.
Cassidy knew she slept with hers wide open, as she drooled buckets. But, no, Gage’s face was perfectly composed in sleep.
Probably wakes up with fresh breath, too.
His breathing hitched, and there was the slightest flicker to his chest muscles. No sooner had she realized he was waking up than his eyes opened.
Those dark brown eyes remained fogged by sleep for several seconds, but then he blinked. A lazy smile spread his lips, and he squeezed her against his chest. “Morning,” he rumbled, the sound traveling straight from his body through hers.
Cassidy pressed her lips together. Well. He doesn’t wake up with fresh breath. For some reason, she found the revelation endearing beyond measure. Wiggling her hand free from where it was wedged between their bellies, she covered her mouth. “Morning,” she returned from behind her fingers.
Gage stilled. “I have morning breath, don’t I?”
She giggled. Actually giggled.
The sound seemed to startle him as much as it startled her. His smile dipped a moment but then seemed to come back with more wattage. “Hold your breath,” he said.
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to kiss you good morning.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers.
Her lips tingled when he pulled away, and she found herself smiling at him. Smiling, when only a few hours ago she’d faced someone who had broken into her apartment. She hadn’t thought a smile was a possibility.
And, like a terrible magic trick, thinking about the break-in caused that small, happy bubble in her chest to pop.
There must have been some change to her expression, because Gage made a tsking noise and pulled her into a bear hug. “Hey now, Freckles.” He swept his palm up and down her back, and she involuntarily shuddered and nestled closer to his warm body. “Want me to stay here with you today? I can cancel my appointments.”
The word yes pushed its way to the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back just in time. Bit it literally. Her eyes watered as her tongue throbbed. Unwittingly, she focused on his use of the benign word appointments for his meetings to have sex with women.
What the fuck? What was that . . . jealousy?
She pushed away from him, horrified. “No,” she blurted quickly. She shoved her hair out of her eyes. God only knew how she looked right now, but it was definitely not the model look Gage currently sported. “I’m going to go into work.”
Gage, who had been looking up at her with concern when she shoved away from him, visibly relaxed. “That’s a great idea. It’s always best to stay busy.”
There he went again, speaking as though he knew this from personal experience.
There was so much she knew about Gage: the spot right above his ass that both tickled and made his dick jump, the way he groaned from behind clamped lips when he orgasmed, how he was obsessed with her breasts but liked her butt even better.
However, she knew nothing real about him.
Isn’t that the point?
Okay, this was getting out of hand. That fucker who had broken into her apartment had put her entire life into a tailspin. She rolled her eyes at herself and swung her feet to the floor. “I’m making coffee. You want some?”
“Sounds great.”
She felt his hand on her back, and she paused, unwilling to turn around and look at him in case she was actually as weak as she was feeling.
“Hey, Cassidy.”
She pulled in a slow breath. “Hmm?”
“You can . . . talk to me, you know.”
She stiffened.
“I know that’s not what we’re doing here,” he continued in a rush. “But we are friends, and when shit happens, friends talk.”
Friends. The word simultaneously filled her with joy and . . . disappointment? I’m losing it! “Okay,” she nearly shouted.
She got to her feet and raced to the kitchen, steadfastly denying the entire way the fact that she was fleeing.
She started the coffee, and Gage joined her a few minutes later, looking impossibly better than he had fresh from sleep. When he bent down to kiss her this time, his lips were minty.
Used my toothbrush. Was she panicking? It felt like she was panicking.
“My brother committed suicide,” she blurted.
Gage paused, his mug of coffee partway to his mouth. Slowly, he set the coffee down on the countertop.
“Okay.”
She closed her eyes, beyond frustrated with herself, with what she was feeling, with everything. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes again. “So, it happened a few years ago.” Her mind quickly calculated exactly how long ago it had been, down to the minute, but she shoved that aside. “My sister—sister-in-law, actually—is pretty much the best person I’ve ever met. If my brother wasn’t happy with her . . . ”
Why the fucking hell was she talking about this?
“Then a happy relationship is impossible,” Gage finished for her.
Her head snapped up, her gaze finding and locking with his. He gets it. There had been absolutely no recrimination in his tone. His face was open and honest.
He reached for his coffee and finally took a sip.
Her gaze narrowed in on the way his lips pursed against the edge of the mug, and she forced it back to his face.
He seemed to be weighing something internally, and then he said, “For me, it was my third foster home.”
Cassidy froze. Foster home?
“There were ten of us kids in that house.” His fingers fiddled against the mug. “Four were theirs and the rest of us were from the system.” He shrugged. “We were their money-makers. The small amount they got for us each month went straight to the real kids.”
He paused for another sip of coffee. Was her heart was going to fall straight out of her chest and plop onto the floor?
He cleared his throat. “I was thirteen. Old enough to realize that if someone could look at a child and only see a way to use him—” Another shrug. “Love is a myth.”
Okay, now she really regretted bringing up her brother. Her lungs were tight. Her tear ducts were stinging. The word use bounced around in Cassidy’s skull, but it was already so cacophonous in there, she couldn’t focus on why that word would stick out more than the rest.
“Gage—” She shook her head. “Fuck, I’m so sorr—”
He shook his head and held up a hand. “Nope.” He smiled, but it was heartbreakingly sad. “You needed to talk; this was the topic you picked. I don’t think either of us is looking for sympathy.”
She snorted. That was the gospel truth, though the real reason she’d brought it up still eluded her.
It got quiet in a way that was both awkward and not at the same time. Gage drained the rest of his coffee and glanced at his watch. After placing his mug in the sink, he walked over and stood toe to toe with her. “You sure about going to work?” he asked.
She nodded absently, still mulling over what he’d just revealed.
“I’m taking you out tonight.”
Again, her head jerked up.
He laughed. “Not on a date. God.” He shook his head. “I’m getting you out of this apartment.” He reached for her hand. “We’ll get roaring drunk and eat junk. Look forward to it all day and think of it whenever your mind wanders to . . . well, you know.”
She nodded dimly, her thoughts still caught up in what he’d just told her.
“Cassidy.”
The tone of his voice pulled her from her thoughts.
He reached for her with one unsteady hand, cupping her cheek with it. “I’m really glad you’re all right.”
She swallowed hard. “Me, too.”
Her lips were still forming the O when he covered them with his. His mouth was unmoving as he wrapped her up with both arms and pulled her into his chest. It was the oddest kiss he’d ever given her. It was completely devoid of any type of passion. He seemed to be kissing her just to prove that she was there.
For comfort.
He pulled away but kept her in his arms, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“T-tonight,” she confirmed. Why in the hell had she stuttered?
He squeezed her extra tightly for a moment, then released her. He walked to the door without once looking back, shutting it behind him. Through the closed door, he called, “Lock this, please.”
“Oh, God.” She scrambled across the apartment, nearly hitting the door with her entire body before she was able to pull back just in time. She clicked the deadbolt.
He didn’t say another word, but she could feel it when he walked away. When he was gone.
She turned to survey her apartment, and crossed her arms over her chest, chafing her suddenly chilled upper arms with her equally chilled hands.
First time you’ve been alone in here since it happened.
When she swallowed, she tasted bile.
“Shower,” she coached herself, forcing her body away from the door and the lingering warmth of Gage’s presence.
She’d shower, and then she’d get the hell out of here. “Twenty minutes, tops,” she promised herself, “and then you’re gone.”
She was out the door fifteen minutes later, not even completely aware of what she was wearing, only that her hair was dripping about a gallon of water all over it. The air was balmy and the sun was out, yet Cassidy’s teeth chattered all the way to the car and then all the way to work.
She walked to her cubicle, managing to trip only twice on her unsteady feet. Dumping her satchel on her desk, she veered sharply toward the break room, looking for her second cup of coffee.
As she poured herself some caffeine, she barely noticed David and Chris in the corner talking until one of them snorted.
“Damn, Hastings, did your hair dryer break?”
Cassidy set her mug down on the counter with a hard clink. Whipping around, she sent droplets from her hair soaring across the room.
“Shit,” David murmured staring down into his coffee mug. As he leaned over to dump it in the sink with a frown, Chris wiped what had to be drops from her hair from his cheek.
Cassidy glared at them, and it must have been an impressive glare, because when David looked up from dumping out his hair-water coffee, he blinked and took a step back, bumping into the refrigerator.
“What did you say to me?” She was proud of how calm her voice was. Truly. Especially since it was a 50-50 shot that she was going to fly across the room and punch one or both of them in the eye. “Do you make comments on your other co-workers’ hair?”
David’s eyes grew wary. “Are you PMSing or something?”
Her lips parted.
“Do you want to die?” Chris hissed. He grabbed David by the arm and pulled him toward the exit.
Cassidy forced her fists to relax, realizing with the sting of pain that she’d dug her blunt nails into each of her palms.
Chris gave David a quick push out into the hallway, closing the door partway on David’s face, which managed to still look as though he couldn’t figure out what he’d said wrong. Chris leaned back against the door. “Cassidy, he was out of line.” Chris paused for a moment before adding, “If you want me to go with you to Callahan’s office, I can vouch for whatever you say, just—”
Cassidy held out a hand, stopping his flow of words. “Not necessary.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable.
Chris closed the door completely behind him, shutting out the small noise of the office. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked in a whisper.
Her eyes started to sting, and Chris’s widened. He took a step toward her, but again, Cassidy held out her hand, and he stopped. “I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “Just a tough night.”
Disappointment flashed in Chris’s eyes. “Well, if you ever need a friend to talk to—”
Cassidy nodded her head. “Mmm hmm.” Friend? Gage was her only friend.
Holy fuck. Where had that thought come from? Her already stinging eyes widened, putting the possibility of tears spilling over her lower lids into the probability range. “I appreciate it,” she forced through tight lips. Go away. Now. Before you see me crack.
Chris hesitated, seeming to mull over saying something else, and she gritted her teeth, pulling on all her strength reserves. Finally, he sighed. “Well, then. I guess I’ll see you around.”
When she said nothing, he turned and left the break room, leaving the door open.
Cassidy spun and braced her hands on the countertop, letting her head hang down. “Get it together,” she muttered through her teeth. Her arms were trembling, but through sheer force of will, she was able to tamp down her body’s reaction to . . . whatever the fuck was going on with her.
When she was no longer in immediate danger of crying, she shoved her wet hair from her face, grabbed her coffee, and made her way back to her desk, doing her best to hold her head high. She really did have a lot to do today. She needed to go back over whatever she’d written last night. She vaguely remembered writing the ending to the game’s narrative, but she honestly didn’t remember what it entailed. Just that she’d been excited about it.
And I sketched Gage as my character. She winced, nearly tripping mid-stride.
Reaching her desk, she flopped down into her chair. She eased her laptop from her satchel and fired it up, taking a sip of scalding coffee.
When the file opened seconds later, she settled in and began reading, quickly becoming absorbed in what, if she could say so herself, was a truly excellent story.
A frown creased her brow as she neared the end. “What the—” she muttered, leaning toward the laptop to get a better look. “No, I wouldn’t write that.”
She re-read the paragraph.
With a sigh, she slowly leaned back into her chair and closed her eyes. “Oh, God.” In a second, everything became clear. Feeling out of control. Being on the verge of tears every second. Bringing up weird, personal parts of her past. Hearing the word use leave Gage’s lips and being unable to shake it.
Last night, in a trauma-fueled haze, Cassidy had written a romantic twist to her story: her main character confessed she had feelings for the gigolo.
The gigolo Cassidy had sketched from Gage’s likeness last night.
“Holy shit,” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.
I like Gage.
Her eyes popped open. “Oh, no.” This was bad. Really bad.
She didn’t do relationships. She didn’t do . . . love. But even worse than all that . . .
That someone could use me. Those words had left Gage’s lips this morning. Okay, not those exact words, but—
She was using him! There was no getting around that. Back when Mr. Callahan hadn’t been practically drooling over her laptop every day, she’d convinced herself Gage wouldn’t care. That she wasn’t hurting anyone by borrowing pieces of his life and turning it into inspiration for a video game. And, honestly, at the time, it had probably been true.
There was no denying that things were different now. Somewhere along the line, they’d actually started to like each other. As people. As friends.
As more than friends.
Cassidy pressed her fingertips against her brow, trying to pulverize that thought down to dust. No, not as more than friends. She wouldn’t allow that. Ever.
But one thing was certain. Gage was going to have strong feelings about what she was doing with his life experiences if he ever found out about it.
And there is no way in hell he’s going to be okay with it.