Page 5 of Made for You
I stopped pacing, catching my reflection in the tall mirror on the wall between the living room and dining room. My fire engine red lipstick had faded slightly, my cheeks were flushed, and my eyes were a little too wide. I looked wild. Undone. And for once, I didn’t care.
A quick rap on the door snapped me out of my head. I crossed the room slowly, not wanting to appear too eager, and opened it to find Gage standing there, his hat in hand, his dark eyes seeming to twinkle in the lamplight as he drank me in.
“Hey, darlin’.”
“Hey, Cowboy.”
We stared at each other for a second until I stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. “Come on in.”
He moved past me slowly, the scent of leather and spice trailing in his wake. I closed the door, the latch catching with a soft click that seemed to echo in the room.
When I turned around, he was watching me. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low purr.
“Yes,” I said, lifting my chin in what I hoped came across as a defiant, confident gesture. “In case I wasn’t clear before, I want you.”
“Well, all right then.” Gage closed the space between us in three quick strides and cupped the side of my neck, his hand warm and solid against my skin.
Then his mouth came down on mine—hot, deep, and oh-so-hungry. His lips were firm, commanding, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a boldness that made my knees tremble. It wasn’t a coax or a tease. It was a man staking a claim on a woman. I felt it in the way he tilted my head, in the way his hand slid around to cradle the base of my skull. He kissed like he wanted to taste every inch of me, like he’d been waiting his whole damn life to have me.
Heat bloomed in my chest, fire curling low in my belly. My fingers fisted in Gage’s shirt as I leaned into him, feeling the hard muscle beneath it, the way his body fit against mine like I’d been made for him. He tasted like beer and sin and something that felt incredibly dangerous to my peace.
He growled low in his throat and lifted me like I weighed nothing. My arms wrapped around his shoulders as my legs slid up around his waist—thank god for the high slit at the back of my dress.
His mouth moved to the curve of my throat, finding the spot just under my jaw that made butterflies take flight in the pit of my stomach.
“You have no idea,” he said, his deep voice sounding ragged, “how long it’s been since I wanted someone the way I want you.”
I tangled my hands in his hair and let out a low moan. “Then stop talking, and take me to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am. Where are we heading?”
“Second door on the left,” I directed as he squeezed my ass in his palms.
Gage carried me down the hall, every step a confident swagger.
The second we hit the bedroom, he set me on my feet—but only long enough to back me against the wall and kiss me senseless. Again. His hands roamed over my hips, along my waist, and up the curve of my spine … like he couldn’t decide which part of me to touch first.
When he pulled back slightly, his eyes searched mine. “Tell me to stop,” he said. “If you even think it, I need to hear it.”
“I won’t,” I whispered, already reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest as he kissed me again. His hands slid under the hem of my dress, the calluses on his palms rough against my thighs as he dragged the fabric up.
“This dress,” he muttered against my mouth. “I’ve been thinking about getting you out of it since the moment I saw you sitting alone at the bar.”
“Less talking, more sex,” I teased, running my hands up his chest and reveling in the hard muscle beneath my palms.
That earned me a slow, sinful grin. “Yes, ma’am,” he said again, dropping to his knees in front of me.
He guided my dress up over my hips with deliberate slowness, his fingers dragging along my thighs. When he came face-to-face with the thin scrap of lace covering me, he let out a rough, hungry sound and leaned in, nuzzling against me.
“Fuck,” he growled, the sound pure, filthy approval. “You smell like sex and sin and everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.”
Then he buried his face between my thighs to inhale deeply, like he was trying to drag the scent of my arousal all the way into his lungs. “I can smell how bad you want me, Siena,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin through the gossamer fabric. “And it’s driving me fucking wild.”
My whole body tensed with shock. No one had ever spoken to me like that before. No one had everwantedme like this.
For me, sex had always been somewhat predictable. Not unfulfilling exactly … just a bit more … lower stakes. Less primal. And maybe that had been fine before, but it wasn’t any longer. Because now I knew what it sounded like when a man wasn’t holding anything back.
