Page 54 of Believe it or Knot

“I don’t understand why you’re mad at me, Gage,” I say quietly, trying like hell to keep my serene expression in place. It’s really freaking hard, because he’s pumping enough alpharomones into the air to make me feel a little panicky. “But if you can’t calm down and speak to me like a rational human being and my friend, then I need you to leave.”

“Your friend?” He growls, bracing his hands on his hips and shaking his head with a humorless laugh. “See, that’s the problem right there, biscuit. I don’t want to be your friend. I’ve never wanted to be your friend. Ever.”

I’m not ready for the pain that hits me in my chest. Right on the heels of him calling me a whore. It’s like falling off the monkey bars at school and having the air knocked out of you. It hurts so fucking bad my knees buckle and I gracelessly fall to the couch. “What?” I rasp out. “What do you mean? Was all of this… was it all a lie? Years of friendship? Why are you even here then, Gage?”

“Shit,” he curses and then shoves the coffee table out of the way so he can kneel in front of me, clasping his hands around mine, holding me tight. I wish I was strong enough to push him away, to avoid his touch, but I need it too much, need him too much. “Sorrel, look at me.” I give a tiny shake of my head as a tear cascades down my cheek. “Come on, you know I hate it when you cry, biscuit. Look at me.”

I lift my gaze slowly until I’m staring at his gorgeous dark blue eyes glinting like galaxies. He lifts my hands and brushes soft kisses over my knuckles, the tips of my fingers, my palms. “I’m doing this all wrong,” he murmurs against my skin. “I didn’t mean I never wanted to be your friend. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I fucking love being your friend, biscuit. It’s my favorite. You’re my favorite. What I meant was, I’ve never wanted to be only your friend.”

He carefully sets my right arm on my lap and goes about placing tiny kisses all over my left wrist, caressing the skin of my forearm all the way to the soft spot at the bend of my elbow, which is apparently an erogenous zone for me, because as soon as his lips bush it, my toes curl in my sandals and I let out a tiny, horrifying, embarrassing moan.

But Gage just smiles. “See,” he keeps talking, mapping my skin with his mouth as he does. “The first moment I saw you when we were kids, Sorrel, I knew you were mine. I didn’t know back then how that would work, just that you and I belonged together. So I put the only label on it I could back then. Friends.”

“And now?” I ask, my voice far too husky. It’s all his fault, too.

He looks up at me through his dark gold lashes. “And now, I know I want your friendship, your laughter, your teasing. I want your heart and body and soul, Sorrel. I want your hands on my skin, and my tongue in your mouth and my cock dripping with your arousal as I pound into you. I want your moans and your whimpers and your sighs. I want every fucking orgasm in your body. I want your tears, both happy and sad. I want fights with you and makeup sex with you. I want to hold you all night, safe against my body. I want fucking everything. Not just a part of you, or half your heart, or a portion of your time. I want it all. Give it to me.”

I’m not sure what to say. It’s everything I ever wanted to hear from him. Everything I dreamed about when I was a teenager before he left for seven years. And for years after. He didn’t have to do that, and yet he did. He left me alone for seven years. If what he’s saying is true…

“Did you feel this way back then? Before you left?”

His eyes fly up to my face, and he pauses in his gentle caresses. “It doesn’t matter.”

My gaze narrows. “It does matter.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and I suspect I know the answer. Digging deep, I find the strength to pull away from him, to push to a stand and put space between us. He stays where he is, kneeling on the ground. “It matters, Gage.”

I fold my arms around my stomach and work to keep my expression as serene as I can. “If you’re only saying this now, because you came back and saw me with the Cordova pack and then decided you wanted me. It matters, Gage. If you want me only because I want them…”

His mouth tightens, and he slowly pushes to his feet. “Is that what you think of me, Sorrel? That I saw you have the possibility of being happy with someone else and I decided I didn’t want that for you?”

I shake my head, because I don’t really think that. He’s always wanted what’s best for me, what makes me the happiest. “No. But help me understand. Why are you telling me this now, Gage?”

He stalks toward me and I don’t even realize I’m moving until my back hits the wall and he’s towering over me, one hand braced over my head, while the other cups my cheek. “You want the truth, biscuit?”

There’s an underlying edge of warning in his tone, like he knows if we go here, there’s no going back. We won’t ever be able to be Sorrel and Gage, best friends forever, again. But we need to take this step, need to get it out there, because if we don’t, I think we’ll lose each other entirely.

“Always,” I murmur, meeting his gaze head on, so he knows I mean it. “I always want the truth from you, Gage.”

He lets out a haggard breath, and his forehead drops to mine. His hand slides down until he’s gently collaring my neck, holding me in place. “I was fucking obsessed with you, Sor. To where my dads pulled me aside and told me I had to get some space, some perspective. They were worried I was so focused on you that I would be blind when my pack came along, or my omega.” I jerk at the mention of him finding his omega, but he doesn’t let me go anywhere, his fingers tightening against my throat. “They thought time and distance would make me forget you, make me see that an alpha wanting a beta beyond reason, beyond thought or consequence or instincts, wasn’t natural.”

A small noise of hurt passes through my lips. I’ve known Gage’s family for as long as I’ve known him, and they always treated me like a daughter, like family. But apparently they didn’t actually believe it.

Gage hushes me, his nose brushing along the length of mine, even as I blink heavily. “They wanted you to find someone better, didn’t they? A beautiful omega, your scent match.”

He hums his agreement, brushing his lips against my cheek, smearing the tears I didn’t know I cried. He follows the path until he can kiss my eyelid, taste the salt from the source. “They did. But I just wanted you, Sorrel. I’ve always wanted you. Only you.”

He moves so his mouth is hovering over mine. “And yes, maybe I came back and saw you with them, saw you with Liam Cordova, who you’ve gushed about for years, and I panicked. I realized I could actually lose you to them. They could take you away from me with a snap of their fingers and a few flirty looks.”

Then Gage Wagner does something I’ve dreamed about a million times, but never thought would actually happen.

He kisses me.

It’s not soft or sweet, like I used to imagine when I was a teenager and hadn’t kissed anyone yet. Back then, the bare minimum of our lips touching was enough to send my pulse skyrocketing.

It’s not a filthy tongue fucking, like I’d imagined later in life with my hand between my thighs and guilt in my heart for thinking of my best friend sexually.

Its… passionate. So fucking passionate and full of… love. Because Gage Wagner loves me. With all his heart. I can feel it in the way his lips caress mine, the way his tongue tastes my mouth, the way his palm against my throat feels like a claiming, a gentle sign of ownership. His thumb brushing back and forth over the pulse point. It’s in the groan that rumbles from his chest as he angles his head and kisses me deeper.

---