Page 51 of Man of Honor
His hand slid down to mine, lacing our fingers together and tugging me up the porch steps. “Come on,” he said, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “We’ll get through dinner quick. Then we can have the rest of the night to ourselves.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
WYATT
The air turned cooleras we climbed the creaky staircase to Gage’s old bedroom. Unlike the polished lower level, the second floor seemed forgotten and frozen in time. Even the light felt softer here, filtering through dusty windows and stretching in long, dappled shadows across the wooden floorboards.
Gage paused with his hand on the latch of a door carved with thorny vines. “This is it,” he said, pushing it open with a creak and sweeping an arm out in exaggerated welcome. “Home, sweet home…or close enough.”
The room smelled of old wood and the lingering spice of Gage’s aftershave. A faded quilt covered a brass bed, and the only furniture was an old-fashioned steamer trunk, an end table, and a dresser made of dark wood. No knickknacks, no sports gear or posters, just a mirror and a gilt-framed landscape. Not exactly the art Gage would have picked.
“Did you redecorate when you came home?” I asked, turning a slow circle.
He gave the room a disinterested glance and shrugged. “Nah, it’s always been like this. I never had a real bedroom as a kid, so I didn’t know what to do with this much space. Safer to leave it how I found it.”
Was that it, I wondered, or did he still not trust it to last? My throat tightened, but I knew better than to show even a flicker of sympathy. Gage didn’t want or need that from me. Instead, I moved to the window and looked out at the garden below.
The place had seen better days. Tangled vines wrapped around an old greenhouse, choking the few struggling seedlings left in the flower beds. Still beautiful in a broken way, a piece of fading history being reclaimed by nature.
“They say that’s where it all started,” Gage said behind me. “Where Atticus first saw Rosalind. Love at first sight.”
I turned, and whatever I was about to say died in my throat. Gage had stripped off his damp clothes and stood gloriously naked, rummaging through his closet. His back was a map of muscle and faded scars. My mouth went dry as he stepped into a pair of dress slacks. Covering that ass was a tragedy.
“I know how he must’ve felt,” I managed to say.
Gage flashed a lazy grin over his shoulder. “No, you don’t. But I do.”
Heat curled through my belly, slow and primal, making it nearly impossible to think straight. All I knew was I wanted him now. Wanted to touch him, protect him—forever, if he’d let me.
I cleared my throat, but my voice still came out raw when I said, “I didn’t know this was a formal dinner.”
“Old habit,” he replied, shrugging as he buttoned his slacks. “Boone used to lecture us about table manners until he was blue in the face. One of the only lessons that ever stuck.”
“What other rules did you have growing up?” I asked, leaning against the window frame. I loved talking to him. Just talking and enjoying his company.
He strapped a watch onto his wrist, an expensive piece he wouldn’t have bought for himself. I’d seen both Mason and Dominic wearing the same watch. “Biggest one? No boys or girls in the bedrooms.”
“Guess I just broke that one,” I said wryly.
Gage’s eyes sparkled with mischief, wicked and beautiful, just like him. “I’ve never been good with rules.”
I threw back my head and laughed. “Tell me about it. I lost count of how many times I dragged your ass home in my patrol car.”
“Which time was your favorite?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. “The fireworks? Or when Ben and I stole Gideon’s truck and raced Mason’s bike through the cane fields?”
“Definitely the truck,” I said. “Y’all were lucky you didn’t wreck it.”
“Lucky you caught us,” Gage teased, lighting up at the memory.
“I should’ve booked you for it. But the look on Boone’s face?” I shook my head and let out a long, low whistle. “Man, that was something else.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “He could always make us feel like idiots without even raising his voice.”
“Just like you handle those kids downstairs,” I pointed out. “They need adults who are honest with them.”
He hummed thoughtfully, leaning against the dresser, shirtless and effortlessly sexy. The playful gleam in his eyes faded, replaced by something darker as his gaze climbed my body. When he crooked a finger, I didn’t hesitate.
I was on him fast, pinning him against the dresser and kissing him hard. My hands were on his hips, tugging him close, groaning at how hard he was beneath his slacks. He kissed me back enthusiastically, plundering my mouth with his tongue until I gasped. Then, just as quickly as he’d started the fire, he slipped out of my arms and left me burning.