"It means you should leave." I hate the way my throat tightens, but I'm proud of the way I don't let my eyes drop from his.

"Are you serious?" He stares at me, a muscle working in his jaw.

"I..." Tell him you're serious, Cassidy.

"Say it. Tell me to leave again and I will."

"I..." I can't make myself say the words. Because they're not true. "How could you not tell me about her?"

"I already told you."

"I don't care if you thought I didn't want to know anything personal about you!" I'm yelling now. Just because I don't want him to leave doesn't mean he's off the freaking hook. "You're wrong. And even if you weren't? If you were in any way decent, you would've warned me. Two girls you sleep with working together? Come on." Great. I'm pretty much talking in circles at this point, but I can't stop.

"I don't still sleep with her." Why is he so calm? How can he stand there, so mildly, while my blood's roaring like it is?

"You did." I cringe at the image that comes to mind. And at the jealousy weaving itself through my anger. "God, Gage. I can't do this."

"Yes. You can. This isn't over and we both know it." His expression sharpens. It shouldn't make my breath catch. It shouldn't make me want him.

But it does.

"There is no this. There never was. It's been fun. See ya around." Somehow my anger is twisting into something else. My nerves are sparking and I clench my fingers into fists to keep from reaching out and yanking him against me.

"Bullshit." He takes a step closer and, not to be outdone, I do, too. His mouth quirks. I want to lick it. It's like he can tell what I feel because he takes another step. "This is a thing."

"No. It's. Not." I grit my teeth and wish my body wouldn't make my words so visibly false. Longing bursts into flames under my skin and I'm certain my cheeks are reddening to give me away.

"Bullshit." His tongue darts out, moistening his mouth, and I nearly lose it. It's uncomfortable, almost, finding myself so turned on in the middle of a fight.

"Stop saying that." I'm still mad, but I'm also just completely burning alive with how much I need to feel his hands against my skin.

"Bullshit." And then his mouth is on mine and he's kissing me so hard I'm walking backwards and he's guiding me and somehow we're in my room and the door is slamming shut behind us and his lips are hard and soft at the same time and his tongue is demanding and twisting around mine.

"This?" he says, his mouth still against my skin. I breathe in his breath, let it sweep down into my lungs.

"Done," I lie. Lie. Lie. "Finished."

I kiss him with all that I have.

My knees are jellying. My stomach is hopping. I press harder against him, needing to feel him everywhere, everywhere. We're both primed to explode. I claw at his shirt and shove it over his head-and he yanks my jeans down past my knees. I step out of them and turn, reaching behind me to wrap a hand around his head when he brings his mouth to the nape of my neck.

His hands are all over me.

Dragging across my breasts, making my nipples harden.

Sweeping down my stomach, pressing against my skin with such force my breath catches in my throat.

Sliding into my panties, slipping through the wetness pooling there. Teasing me, twisting me, parting me.

Heat pulses through me. In my belly. Down my arms. So, so deep between my legs. Building and building and- Suddenly his hand is gone and I'm moaning, desperate to feel him again. His belt buckle scrapes my skin as he yanks it apart behind me, and his jeans drag along the backs of my knees when he lowers them. The rip of a condom being opened and that yawning pause as he slides it on. Then my underwear is being dragged down, down, down, landing around my ankles and he's pushing against my lower back until I'm leaning with my hands against my bed.

"This," he says, ferociously leaning over me, "is not over." The edges of his teeth pull at the skin behind my shoulder, sending little shivers of excited pain shooting down my back, and again I almost lose it.

And then he slams into me. No gentle nudging this time-not that it was needed, I'm so ready.

He's fierce and demanding, pounding so deeply into me with each thrust I can't help crying out. There's no time for thought, only sensation after sensation. The sounds of skin clapping against skin and the small moans that slip out each time I gasp for air. The tight grip of his hands at my hips, pulling me toward him, growing each time in speed and force. The twist of covers between my fingers as our bodies meet at the sweetest of spots, again and again and again.

Hard. Fast. Furious.

I buck against him and with him and under him, meeting him, each thrust with enough force to make my arms shake. And soon they aren't the only parts of me shaking.

My knees.

My ass.

My stomach.

My breath.

One of his hands slips around to touch me...to tease me, pull at me, spread me with his fingers, all while he's ramming into me, harder harder harder until I'm rocking my body back against him and I'm quivering all over and the explosion that comes starts not with a spark but with a blast. I think I say his name and I think I might hear him say mine. But I don't know. I don't know. My mind is blank and I am lost once more in the fire of sensations sweeping through me, burning everything in their path with flames that grow hotter and hotter until they consume me completely.

Hard. Fast. Furious.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

Gage and I lie on our backs in my bed, breathing heavily. I'm trembling all over, leftover pulses of pleasure still not completely disappeared. I'm not entirely sure how we got here. I vaguely remember my arms buckling and then tumbling onto my chest, Gage falling on top of me. A twist and a turn and maybe some crawling and here we are. Sweaty and spent.

"I told you there was a this," he says, reaching out a hand until I grab it with my own. His fingers tighten around mine.

"Fine." I give in, stroking the side of his hand with my thumb. "There's a this."

"Give me a this or give me death... Buddha said it once, a long time ago."

I can't help but crack half a smile. I don't know where my anger went. Maybe he pounded it right out of me. I pause to consider my next words. The moment feels like a turning point of sorts, and I don't know how to steer us. "This can't get serious, between us. I don't want it to be complicated."

"You made that clear the first night I met you."

I search for an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone but don't find one. Still, I wonder if that's why he's in this...thing or whatever it is with me. Because he knows I don't want a relationship? Because it's easy? Because I'm easy?

But I quickly erase that last thought from my mind. Never once have I felt cheap around Gage. He's been all fire and sex and respect. A weird combination, but one I can't get enough of.

"Do you still care for Zoey?" I have to ask; the question's been slamming into my chest all night.

He hesitates and I know what his answer will be before he opens his mouth. My heart gives a tug and I have to swallow past a sudden lump in my throat.

"Yes." He turns toward me, waiting until I (with much, much difficultly) meet his gaze. Even though the room is darkened by the night, and even though I'm literally naked before him, I feel more exposed than ever. Surely, there's something on my face, some clue I don't want to give away. Still, he keeps his eyes on mine and his voice steady. "But I don't want to care for her. And every day I spend with you takes me farther away from my history with her."

"I get it." I do everything I can to keep my tone light and casual. "You can't help who you have feelings for." I ignore the last part of what he said. The words confuse me too much to sort through right now. He's quiet, so I repeat myself. "I get it. Really."

I'm telling the truth. I do understand, even though his honesty hurts me more than I want it to.

Zoey's face pops into my thoughts. Her wide, kind smile, her perfect dimples. I suppose the thing to do here would be to hate her-isn't that how you're supposed to feel about people who've once slept with the person you're currently sleeping with?-but I don't. She still loves Gage. He still cares for her. And he cares for me, too, but I'm determined to steer clear of anything serious, while I don't think she is. Maybe the right thing for me to do here is step back and let them be together.

But I'm not that big of a person.

I'm drawn to Gage in ways I barely understood were possible before I met him. I don't want to let him go.

He tucks his free hand behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "Do you want me to tell you about her? My past with-"

"No." I cut him off. "I don't." But I'm lying again-and I'm sick of doing it, especially to myself. "Maybe a little."

He turns to face me again. "How about a high level summary and we can take it from there if you want to know more."

"Okay." It's a good compromise for the dichotomy of curiosity pulling through me. I want to know everything. I want to know nothing. I'll settle for something in the middle.

"I've known Zoey for a long time. Almost forever, it feels like." He draws a deep breath and exhales, the weight of his memories clearly a factor here. I do my damn best to ignore the pang in my belly. "We've dated on and off since high school. But it's completely over now. She did something to hurt my family. More specifically, my sister, Katy. So, yes, I care for Zoey, but I won't ever trust her again. I forgive her, but I can't forget what she did. She crossed a line there's no coming back from. Believe me. We won't ever get back together."

I watch his face, waiting for him to continue, wondering what Zoey did, but he only says, "That's about as high level as I can get."

I almost ask him for more information, but he's given me enough to go on. My imagination won't run wild (well, not that wild anyway) about their relationship anymore, and I don't feel quite as bad for continuing this thing we have, because-as much as I like her-Zoey hurt him and lost her chance. Sleeping with Gage isn't ruining a possible relationship between them.

"What's your sister like?" I ask, instead, and am rewarded with the first genuine smile I've seen from him all night.

"My stepsister," he amends. "Her dad married my mom. But she's been my sister since before she could walk. She's hilarious and smart and just finished her first year of high school."

"That's a pretty big age gap," I say. Jason was only two years younger than me. I wonder if his death would've been easier or harder if there'd been a bigger difference. Probably neither. Losing a sibling sucks no matter the years apart. And then I wonder why I'd even think such a morbid thought to begin with and do my best to push Jason from my mind. "Does she hang on your every word, wise big brother that you are?"

He smirks and shakes his head. "Not even a little bit. Katy's annoying as hell these days. Thinks because she's going on sixteen she knows everything."

Sixteen feels like forever ago, but I remember the awkward bumbling pride that came with that slow and not-always-steady start to figuring out who I was. "Do you see her often?"

"More now that I'm taking a year off school."

"Where are you taking a break from?" I'm surprised I don't know this already.

"Mary Washington."

"Why are you taking a break?" I'm sliding into this curiousness about him and...I think maybe it's okay. Maybe I don't have to keep him an arm's length away. Maybe just a hand or so will work. "If, I mean, you don't mind my asking."

"Look at you, getting all personal." He nudges me, playfully, and then shrugs. "Some family stuff. It'll be resolved soon though, and I'll go back. Probably."

He came in late to work a couple weeks ago, citing a family thing as the reason. My gut tells me it's all connected-and I wonder if Zoey's played any part of it. It doesn't feel right to ask, though. Instead I go with, "You might not go back?"

"I was on a five-year plan when I left last year-in the middle of my fourth year-and I'm registered as a history major. Not sure I want to do anything with that in the real world; not sure it's worth going back."

"What do you want to do?"

"Write songs." His shoulder rises, falls. "Not a huge ambition, I know."

Actually, it sounds full of ambition to me. "Nicole told me you used to tour. Did you perform your own songs?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you want to go back to touring, too? Or just write?"

"I'm not sure. Don't let Nicole exaggerate it, though. I only ever toured locally-and mainly at frat parties, playing covers like I do at work."

"It's still more than most musicians get to do... Can I hear a Gage original?"

"Careful, sweetheart. It's starting to sound like you care." He's still smiling, but there's a bite to his words.

"I care." See, there. I can admit it. "I just don't want complicated."

He makes a noncommittal sound. "Quid pro quo, then. Have you spoken with your parents?"

"No." The truth picks at the never-healing scab covering the entire situation with my parents. I can't help but imagine my mom's taken down every picture of me now, too. Maybe they're living their lives, all anger and denial, as though they never had children at all.

I don't elaborate and, even though he just answered all of my questions about his life, he doesn't ask me to. But he does pull me against him and wrap me in his arms. I should probably kiss him, probably push my body harder against him. Let him kiss my thoughts away. But it's nice here, tucked into his chest, and I don't really want to move.

It's different now, this thing between us. Deeper than before. I can tell he feels it, too, as the silence is charged with something that hasn't been here previously. I'm used to the underlying desire that never goes away-I love it, to be honest. And the post-sex glow is always delicious, even as the dew of sweat is cooling against my skin. But this new thing, this thing I can't name, it makes me nervous. It's fragile, whatever it is. I don't know whether to smash it to smithereens or hold it close for safekeeping.

But for now, just for tonight, I let myself go with it. I snuggle against Gage, inhaling his soapy scent, and when his arms tighten around me, I slide even closer, enjoying the intimacy of lying against each other.

Still, when I wake in the morning on the far side of the bed again, out of his arms, I'm relieved.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

The next shift I work with Zoey is uncomfortable. I get there first, and when she arrives, she greets me with a smile, but her dimples don't surface and I know she knows I'm...whatever I am with Gage. And all the guilt that's ever existed rains down against my shoulders.

She hurt him, I remind myself, and she ruined her own chance with him. But I still have trouble meeting her gaze. Even worse, the bar is slow. Tonight's a Justin Hunter concert and while he's a huge hit with tweens, his appeal doesn't carry over much to the type of people that make up the VIP crowd.

Jared's sitting at the bar and I almost ask if I can take the rest of the night off because we don't need two bartenders on, but that'll just make it even more awkward the next time. Plus, he'll know why I'm asking off (so will Zoey, for sure), and I don't need to give him anything else to act all smug about.

I square my shoulders and serve a couple of drinks and do my best to make small talk when there's nothing else-like wiping down the bar or re-cleaning glasses or sweeping up invisible flecks from the ground-to do. Zoey's answers are nice, but not super inviting. She's still friendly, but definitely cooler toward me than before. Guess I can't blame her.

Gage is at his usual spot, singing for tonight's smaller crowd, and I don't see Zoey's eyes travel over to him once.