Read VIP (Rock & Release, Act I) for Free Online Page B

can't let him think he made any sort of mistake. But I also can't look at him with my next words. "I wanted you to…touch me. Long before I got so drunk."  
    The sharp tug in my belly—cutting through the nausea and blossoming hunger—makes me realize just how much I'd like him to touch me again.  
    "Really?" He sounds relieved, and I risk a glance at his face. Worry in his expression's been replaced with a wicked little glint. "Does that mean I can see you again?"
    "I think I'd like that." I know I would.
    "We can try sober next time, with dinner instead of drinks."
    "Oh, I see. Somewhere public then? You don't want me back in bed?" The happiness flushing through me brings out my flirty side. He wants to see me again. This wasn't just a one-night stand. Or whatever a non-sex one-nighter is called. Even if I can have one more night with him—one more night like last, where all I have to care about is having fun and the way Gage's lips feel, the way his mouth tastes. His gorgeous, nimble fingers… Sign me right on up.  
    "It didn't seem to me that public places really stop you." He's grinning now, and my lips curve up to mirror his expression.  
    "Then we'll definitely need drinks with that dinner."
    "No. If I'm going to take advantage of your ridiculous body, I want those pretty green eyes clear while you watch." He stands, holding a hand out. "And, in case that didn't spell it out enough, sweetheart, I want you back in bed."  
    I lace my fingers in his, hesitating a moment to enjoy the glow blooming between my ribs. "If I wasn't so hungover—and if I wasn't so mortified that we stole Vera's bed—I'd pull you back in here and give you your chance right now."
    "If I hadn't heard your stomach rumbling for the past five minutes, I might have taken it."  
    Oh damn. Stupid hunger noises.  
    He yanks me up and leans in close, whispering, "And if you keep talking that way, you'll force me to sit through a very uncomfortable breakfast."
    I work my very hardest to ignore the current his words send zipping along my skin. Focus on the need more easily fulfilled right now . I swallow the extra saliva flooding my mouth. "Did you say something about eggs? Because I might be willing to murder someone for breakfast right now."
    "There's toast, too."  
    "You should've led with that!" I step toward the door, suddenly ravenous for the salty dryness of toast in my alcohol-heavy stomach.
    He doesn't let go of my hand, instead pulling me back to him until we're less than an inch apart. My nose is level with the top of his chest. He bends his head lower, until his mouth is barely a breath away from mine. "And miss this conversation? That's exactly why I didn't lead with the toast. I know what hangovers feel like—you would've been out of here in an instant."
    Which, for some reason, reminds me, "Do you also know what giving a hickey feels like?"
    He doesn't say anything, so I tilt my head, extending my neck for him to see. A second later he laughs, minty breath drifting across my face. "It's your own fault."  
    I straighten, and our mouths are so, so close again. "How's that?"  
    "Your skin shouldn't taste," his mouth is on mine, the lightest of touches… "so," and again, "good."  
    And again.
    And again.  
    His lips are smooth and soft against mine. I press myself into him, thinking I could go on like this forever—but my stomach has other ideas and gurgles so loudly, I wouldn't be surprised if the people three apartments down think it was an earthquake.  
    He laughs and takes my hand again, which he'd released to cup my face (so hot). "Come on."  
    "Yeah. Give me eggs and toast or give me death."  
    "A little Abe Lincoln to start the day?"
    "Patrick Henry, actually." I don't mean to sound like a know-it-all, but it kind of comes out that way. "I mean, not that he actually said that about breakfast." Now I just sound like an idiot. Great.
    "I know." He grins, wolfishly again. "I was just testing you."
    " Sure you were." I