The Bad Boys of Summer Anthology(277)

I hated it.

We strolled the city, gazing up at the high towers and twinkling lights. The stars were bright and seemed closer than normal. The streets were calm but somewhat busy. A few taxis were still raiding the streets, but it was soothing, especially having Gage by my side, hand-in-hand. We’d even passed a few people who knew Gage right on the spot and he autographed a few things for them. I was glad it was a group of calm teenagers. I don’t think I could have handled girls revealing their tits that night. It would have killed my entire mood.

After Gage took a few goofy pictures with his fans, he hugged some of them and then came back to me. His smile stretched as he opened his arms wide and circled them around my waist. He kissed my cheek repeatedly, and I giggled, begging him to stop.

We continued our walk, hearing the occasional flickers and clicks of cameras. I thought about flipping some of them off, but Gage told me to act like they weren’t even there. After a while, it became easier because he would steal away my attention, but it still aggravated me because we had no privacy whatsoever.

“I wanna take you somewhere,” Gage said, smiling down at me.

“Where?” I asked curiously.

His eyes softened and he pecked my lips with his before flagging down a taxi. We climbed in and he leaned forward to whisper something to the driver. I couldn’t make it out, but the driver nodded and Gage handed him a two hundred-dollar tip. The driver gratefully accepted it and pulled off quickly.

I snuggled up to Gage, wrapping my arms around him and enjoying his warmth. He always felt good against me. I enjoyed his forehead kisses during the ride, his arm casually draped around me. I didn’t think he noticed, but I would always catch him staring and he’d smile at me as if he never had been. It was sweet. Innocent. Cute. I adored him.

Finally the taxi slowed down and we arrived at our destination. The driver thanked Gage for his tip, but Gage shrugged it off as if it were no big deal. Gripping my hand, he shut the door behind us and as soon as we turned around, I was struck with awe. I didn’t know where we were, but the street was long and bright posters were everywhere. Lights of various colors shone for miles, bringing even more attention to the area. A few people walked by, some calling for a taxi and some enjoying the scenery just as much as I was.

“Where are we now?” I asked.

“Times Square,” he murmured in my ear. My skin buzzed as he placed a hand on the small of my back. “Come on,” he said, cocking his head to his left. We walked hand-in-hand down the street until he took a turn and we came across an area filled with bench seats. A few people were already sitting—a man reading a newspaper, a woman with a book and a cup of coffee. There were a few others around doing pretty much the same thing. Even a few couples were cuddled up.

“Gage,” I whispered.

I looked at him and he smiled. “I wanted to do something here. My mom used to talk about it non-stop when I was a kid. It was always her dream to come to Times Square… just to sing to me.”

I smiled, taking a seat on the front row. He sat beside me, grinning boyishly. He then pulled his guitar around him, setting it on his lap and adjusting his fingers along the strings. “You’re going to sing?” I asked, excited.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded. He looked down, focusing on his acoustic guitar. It was black, but the strings were blue. On the bottom was the band’s name and Gage’s was printed right above it in cursive. I figured it must have been custom made just for him. “You remember the song I was writing the other morning with Roy?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Can I sing it to you? You’ll be the first to hear it.”

I blushed ridiculously. “Of course, Gage. I’d love to hear.”

He smirked, taking a brief glance into my eyes before focusing on his guitar again and clearing his throat. As he strummed, a few people walking by slowed down, wanting a good show. Some gasped, recognizing the stunning man with the guitar, and held still, ready for him to sing.

I watched the way his lips moved—absorbed the way his deep, silky voice filled me up and sent me on a high I’d never felt before. Each word was soft, caring. His voice made it much more intoxicating for me. It was lovely—he was lovely. He was singing from the depths of his soul. Sometimes he’d get higher; sometimes he’d get lower. Either way, I was thrilled by it. The final lyrics he sang were words I knew I would never forget for as long as I lived:



She was a single dove, a beauty,

A miraculous love, truly,

A new addiction I’d fight for,

My addiction, perhaps my heart and more.





BROKEN PROMISES

I couldn’t resist the urge. I couldn’t stop myself from allowing my fingers to crawl beneath Gage’s shirt as we reached the very top floor in the elevator. Our eyes locked, intensity burned through us, and as soon as we reached our hotel door and he unlocked it, he dropped his guitar and took me in his arms.

He kissed me fiercely, deeply… passionately. I’d never felt a kiss so strong, and as much as I wanted to think nothing of it, I couldn’t help it. I embraced it, drowned in his lips, his body. He cupped my face as we stumbled our way toward the nearest landing. My back gently landed on one of the sofas and he climbed on top of me. I stared up as he stared into my eyes, his hard, intense, and longing as he gazed at me. I saw something behind his eyes, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. It can’t be love. We weren’t… were we?

The glass window was open wide revealing the high moon shining down on us. I looked at him again and he smiled. “I’m thinking, since we have all night, maybe we should take things slow,” he murmured.

I swallowed but nodded my head anyway. He grabbed my hand, pulling me off the sofa and leading the way across the penthouse. I noticed the candles weren’t melted. They looked like they’d just been lit. “Who was here?” I asked, smiling up at him.

“I have my ways,” he said, taking note of the candles but still walking for the bedroom.

I smirked, remembering he had to make a phone call before we got back. He laced our fingers as we stepped into the bedroom. It was huge. A French window was above the king-sized bed against the north wall. A flat-screen TV was hung on the wall opposite the bed and two large dressers were against the east wall. The carpet was a light tan and looked extremely soft.

“Let’s do something you love to do,” Gage said, smiling.

I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

“Paint… draw. Anything.” He grinned, squeezing my hand.

I grinned back, nodding my head and going for my art supplies. I was thrilled he wanted to do the thing I loved most, with me. It was always a dream of mine—to paint with someone I really liked, so I eagerly gathered my things and rushed back to the room.

Gage was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoes beside his feet and his head back, his hands planted behind him on the bed. The way he was leaning back gave definition to his chest beneath his shirt. I could make out the ripples, the lines and muscles. I wanted to hop on top of him and lick his entire body, but I held off, especially as he smiled innocently at me, making my thought process take an extremely wicked turn.

“So what are we doing?” he asked.

“Let’s paint,” I said, taking out a few sheets of paper. I pulled the paint out of the bag and told Gage to get some water for us. We sat on the floor after Gage spread out some newspapers and for the most part, painting with him was fun. We giggled as we painted our own silly pictures. He painted some odd-looking bird and named it Sweet Ellie. I laughed at it and then he took a look at mine. I’d painted conjoining hearts, one blue and one red. His smile faltered a little bit as he looked from the painting to my eyes, but in an instant, he smiled warmly again.

Some paint from my brush splattered onto his arm and he declared war, swearing I did it on purpose. I laughed, begging him not to get paint on me (mainly in my hair), but of course he didn’t listen. He didn’t get it in my hair, but he did paint a thin purple line on my cheek. I placed my brush against the tip of his nose, leaving a bold green dot. His nose wiggled as he smeared it with his arm, chuckling, and then tackled me softly, nuzzling his nose in my neck.

“What do you say to a bath?” he whispered, taking my paintbrush from me and pulling me by the arm to help me sit upright. I looked down at the various colors of paint on me and agreed.

He took my hand, helping me to my feet and leading the way toward the bathroom. His walk was so seductive, so sexy, and I didn’t think he realized it. His shoulders moved in swift but smooth movements. His hips swayed just enough to make me want to grab them and pull him against me. Ugh… he was just too damn beautiful.

As we stepped into the bathroom, the first thing I saw was the large Jacuzzi tub against one of the creamy walls. The wall behind it had a tall arched window above, revealing the enormous towers of New York City nearby. A few candles were set on the edge of the tub, flickering across the bathroom walls and creating a completely romantic atmosphere. I gazed in complete awe, taking in the off-white marble counters, the matching marble floors, the shower in the corner wall that had glass doors almost like the shower of the FireNine tour bus. I blushed, remembering the event that took place because of that shower.