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I saw enough, though, to remember just how good he made me feel.
“I don’t know. I happened to pick it up when I went out to the front and he didn’t leave a name. Just asked for you.” Gina leaves without saying anything else, and I reach for the phone.
“Hello, this is Marina.” The person on the other end is silent for so long I wonder if they’ve hung up. “Hello?”
“Hey,” the word is breathed out, the voice undeniably familiar.
“Gage?” I tighten my fingers around the receiver, startled he’s calling me. I thought he’d hate me, after what I did to him. “Um...”
“Yeah, this is awkward. Listen, I talked to Archer about you.”
I’m stunned. Why would he still talk to Archer about me? “You did?”
“He’s willing to meet with you sometime next week. He said for you to call his direct number at the office and you two can set up a meeting. You want the number?” Gage asks, sounding efficient. Very business as usual.
Nothing at all like the man who held me in his arms last night, murmuring filthy words in my ear while he pushed inside me so deep I thought I might splinter in two.
“Yes, I want it. Let me grab a pen.” I find a notepad and pen and jot down the number Gage rattles off, his deep voice sending tingles sweeping over my suddenly too-hot skin.
Just hearing him talk on the phone and I’m a goner. This is so ridiculous.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask, clutching the phone so tight I know my knuckles are white. “I—”
“Treated me like crap last night? Yes, you did.” He pauses, as if struggling with whether he should say something or not, and I silently urge him to go ahead and just say it. I don’t care what it is. I might get angry but... I doubt it.
Or the anger will just be rapidly chased by arousal, so hey, that works too, right?
The man has turned me into a sick, twisted woman.
I want to apologize to him for being such a bitch last night and kicking him out, but I just can’t find it in me to say I’m sorry. And that makes me feel like an even bigger bitch. “I panicked,” I say instead.
“Because we had sex in the kitchen of your bakery?”
Closing my eyes, I let my head fall to my desk, thumping my forehead on the thick pile of papers. “Yes,” I agree weakly.
“I know. I did too.”
He didn’t seem panicked. He’d been really sweet and aggressive and sexy and gentle. I’ve never had sex against a wall in my life. I’ve never been touched, kissed, fucked—yes, definitely never fucked—like that ever. Ever, ever, ever.
So it blows my mind that something so crazy, so absolutely, terrifyingly wonderful, happened with a man I don’t really like.
You like him when he has his hands all over your body and his tongue in your mouth.
Lifting my head, I open my eyes and scowl, banishing the nasty little voice inside my head and focus instead on the man I’m talking to.
“I know you regret what happened, and I feel bad for pushing myself on you,” he explains. “So I thought I’d call up Archer and get this handled for you. It’s the least I can do.”
I don’t regret what happened. Well, maybe I do a little, but who regrets great sex? “You didn’t really push yourself on me. And thank you,” I whisper, feeling a little choked up because really, the man could’ve told me to fuck off and die and I wouldn’t have blamed him. I would’ve deserved it.
“You’re welcome.” He pauses, again as if he’s struggling with what to say next, and I get it. I feel the same way. “I’ll, uh, see you around.”
Panic flares. I can’t let him go. Not like this. “Wait a minute! Don’t I, um... owe you dinner?”
He remains quiet, but I can hear him breathing. “You don’t owe me anything, Marina.”
I love the way he says my name, his deep voice seeming to caress every letter. Holy crap, do I have it bad for a man I don’t like. “It’s the least I can do,” I murmur, throwing his words back at him. Maybe... maybe we can see each other again. One more time. It wouldn’t hurt, right? And I need to make it up to him, how awful I was. How I basically forced him to leave.
We had amazing sex, and then we were almost angry over it. Like we resented each other or something. So weird.
