by Elise Faber
She frowned. “It needs to be.”
“My 401K is in good shape. That’s the only thing that really matters.”
“What if you don’t get another—” She broke off.
“Contract?” he asked. Her nod made him shrug. “If I don’t get another offer, I’ll figure it out. I always do, but I can’t worry about it here and now, or I’d never be able to focus on playing. It’ll work out, it always does.”
She sighed and stepped away. “Except when it doesn’t.”
“What’s this really about then?” When she didn’t answer, Blane braced himself, a sinking sensation gripping his inside. “Are y-you not feeling what I’m feeling?”
Silence. Then . . .
“No.”
Well fuck, that didn’t feel great at all. He grabbed the door handle.
“I feel more.” Mandy’s shoulders dropped. “I feel so much more. It’s crazy and it’s not even really anything yet, but I’m drawn to you. More than any other guy. Ever.”
He took a breath, releasing the handle. “If that’s the case, then why aren’t we going for it?”
“Because of our jobs—”
“That’s not it,” he said. “So let’s just retire that excuse here and now.”
“It’s not an excuse—”
He fixed her with a look. “Brit and Stephan are dating, are engaged for fuck’s sake. You know we could go and talk to Pierre, run it by him and find a way to make this work if there really is a future between us. But you’re too scared.” He bent, eyes locking onto hers. “And you know it.”
“So what?” she said, exasperation in every syllable. “Normal people are scared about this kind of stuff. Normal people don’t feel—”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Normal people fall in love all the time.”
Mandy plunked her hands on her hips. “Well then, maybe I’m not normal.”
“You aren’t,” he said, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “You’re special, sweetheart, and I want to give this thing between us a chance. I want to find out if we’re it for each other.”
She took a step toward him, close enough that he could feel the heat of her against his clothes, that her breasts brushed his chest when she sucked in a breath. “I—”
One more centimeter.
She only needed to move one more centimeter.
God, it would be so fucking easy to close that last little bit of distance between them, to haul her close and kiss her, to strip off every stitch of clothing and worship her with his mouth.
But he knew deep down that if he pushed her in this moment . . .
He couldn’t push. He’d break something deep inside their relationship, something that had hardly formed.
And so he waited and hoped.
And then he swallowed his disappointment.
“I can’t,” she whispered, hands reaching behind her as she scrabbled for the handle.
He closed his eyes and shored himself up then pushed her hands to the side and opened the door for her. “See you around, Mandy.”
She didn’t spare him a single glance back, just fled for her car.
Thirteen
Mandy
* * *
She was a grown woman. An adult. She was responsible, even occasionally sensible.
So why did she feel like she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life?
Sighing, Mandy plunked her head down onto her steering wheel while stopped for a red light. It was the right call, the safe choice, to end things with Blane before they even got started.
This way neither of them would get hurt.
Except . . . it already hurt.
She lifted her head just as the light turned green, and as she drove to her apartment, she tried desperately to hold on to the belief that she’d just saved herself and Blane a lot of heartache.
“Ah, fuck,” she groaned and before she could second-guess any further, slid her car into the right lane and executed a quick turn.
She had to go back.
She had to jump on this chance with Blane.
She had to risk it.
Except, as soon as she completed the turn, her stomach knotted and all of those second thoughts drifted right back into her brain.
“Dammit!” She punched the steering wheel but stopped herself from completing the loop that would put her back in the direction of Blane’s house. Instead, she continued forward and then made a left at the next signal.
No. Home.
It didn’t matter that the action made her a weakling who was afraid to take a risk.
At least she would be a safe weakling.
“Ugh!” She stopped at another signal, warring with herself. “You’re pathetic, you know that, right?” She asked her reflection in the rearview mirror.
How was she nearly thirty-years-old and this pathetic?
Disgusting.
She made a right turn.
And lasted a block before she went left.
Shit. At this rate, she’d be home next week.
Her phone rang, trilling through the hands-free system on her car. The number was one she didn’t recognize—which normally would have gotten the offending caller an immediate ignore and block, but tonight she jumped at the opportunity for distraction. Maybe they’d try to sell her a timeshare in Hawaii.
Maybe she’d buy one.
Hitting the button to accept, she waited for the call to connect then said, “Hello?”
“Is there a reason you’re taking the labyrinth tour of the city this evening?” Blane asked.
“What?” Her eyes flicked to the rearview, to the car stopped behind her at the red light. “Are you following me?”
“Maybe.”
“But why?”
She heard more than saw his shrug. “I was worried about you after you left. You were upset.”
Understatement of the night, she’d been a wreck and not because of Blane, but because of her own hang-ups and all the shit that went along with them. She’d left home more than a decade before, been on her own for a long time. Why wasn’t she over her childhood already?
“I’m fine,” she whispered, accelerating when the light turned green.
Blane trailed her. “Yeah. Somehow I knew you’d say that.”
Another signal, but this time it didn’t change on her, and she cruised through with his car still behind hers.
“I’m a grown woman,” she said, half trying to convince herself and half wanting to hear what he’d say in response. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can.” A beat before his voice dropped and went a little husky. “And I know you are. Hell, sweetheart, I can still feel the imprint of your ass on my palms, your tongue against mine. Fuck, I’ve been dreaming about the way your body felt since that kiss.”
She turned left again then stopped right before the entrance to the underground garage for her building. “Uhh . . .” Fuck, why couldn’t she admit to him that she was feeling the same way?
He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad you’re home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He signaled, readying to pull around her, and she almost let him go, but then some inner force gripped her tightly and shook her hard.
She could not let this moment pass.
Mandy might be able to run from a lot of things, but she couldn’t live with running from this.
This was Blane. He’d followed her home, not expecting anything, after they’d argued. He wasn’t mad that they didn’t agree, wasn’t punishing her over and over again. He was understanding, supportive. He—
“I have a guest spot.”
The signal stayed on, but his car didn’t move. “Mandy?”
“It’s yours if you want it,” she said. “For tonight, it can be yours.”
“And if I want it for more than just tonight?”
Her throat tightened, fear in every cell. “I don’t know if I can give that much.”
Silence.
Pulse pounding beneath her skin,
tears stinging her eyes, she let off the brake—
“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”
“Oh.” Her breath shuddered out.
“Turn, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I’m hanging up now.”
The phone clicked off, and she was acutely aware of Blane’s headlights as he followed her car down. She pressed the button on her remote to let herself in then waited on the other side of the gate to do the same for his car.
Two minutes later, she was in her spot and Blane had parked next to her.
A knock on her window made her jump.
Mandy cracked her door.
“I can go, baby,” he said. “Right now. No consequences, no expectations. It’s okay.”
The words were enough.
Because he truly meant them.
Because her situation wasn’t the same as her parents’.
Because it was about time that she finally started living her life for her.
Not for them. Not for him.
For her.
She grabbed her purse and opened the car door enough to slip out. “Stay,” she said. “Stay for me.”
His hand came up to cup her cheek. “Always.”
Sliding his free hand into hers, he waited for her to close and lock her door then let her lead them to the elevators. She slid her card over the sensor then hit the button for the sixth floor. Less than sixty seconds later, she’d unlocked her apartment.
“You sur—”
Mandy didn’t let him finish the question, just rose on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his.
That was enough.
The door closed, the dead bolt slammed home, and then his hands were under her thighs, urging her higher, coaxing her legs to wrap around his waist.
And his mouth . . . good God, his mouth.
It was against hers, teasing and demanding in equal measures, his tongue slipping between her lips, urging hers to tangle with his. Every bit of banked desire she’d been suppressing over the last months roared to life with the speed of a raging brush fire.
One second all was good. The next she was burning up.
He took a step and stopped and that was all it took for her mind to flare to attention.
She tried to slip from his arms. “Oh God, Blane. Your neck. I’ve hurt you.”
“No.”
His sharp tone snapped her out of her panic immediately. “Then what?”
“First—” His lips, slightly reddened and swollen from her mouth, twitched into a self-deprecating smile. “I’ve wanted you for so long that I’m trying not to blow my load like a teenager.”
She relaxed, attempted to suppress her own grin. “Is there a second statement to go with the first?”
“Yes.” His mouth dropped to hers again, urgent and hot and dizzying. “But I’m a grown man.” His kissed the tip of her nose. “Problem solved.”
“Problem solved what?”
“I remembered where the bedroom was.”
“Oh.”
“God, I can’t wait for you to make that sound when I’m inside of you.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Can’t resist that,” Blane said, and then his lips were against hers and he was carrying her across the room and through the door that led to her bedroom.
Her back hit the mattress a moment later, and he broke the kiss long enough to lean back and say, “If you need to stop at any point, just say the word.” His chocolate eyes locked with hers. “At any point, sweetheart.”
She put her hand on his chest, just above his heart. His pulse pounded against her palm. “Thank you.” She gripped at the fabric. “But for now, less talking, more kissing.”
He ripped off his shirt, reached for the hem of hers, his expression almost predatory.
“That I can do.”
Fourteen
Blane
* * *
Blane slid Mandy’s shirt up and over her head, stopping only to toss it to the floor and toe off his shoes before reaching down to unzip the hot-as-hell knee-high boots she wore.
He almost told her that next time she needed to wear them and nothing else.
But there might not be a next time.
Fuck.
He couldn’t think that. Not this time. Not now when he wanted to savor every single moment.
Her jeans came next and then she was in her bra and underwear before him.
Not lace, not some fancy see-through push-up number.
No, this was cotton and comfort and yet somehow still intrinsically female. In other words, it was purely Mandy.
“You’re beautiful,” he said when her hands hitched as though she were fighting the urge to cover herself. “Perfect.”
She snorted. “Not hardly.”
He kissed her cheek. “This is the time to accept all compliments gracefully. You do it for me, sweetheart.”
“I—mmm.”
Her retort transformed into a moan and her fingers slid into his hair as he trailed his tongue along her jaw, stopping in the space just behind her ear. Filing away her reaction, he whispered, “I’ve dreamed about you for ages.”
Her breath hitched and gooseflesh rose on her skin.
“Wait—” she protested as he made his way down her throat, but then he’d pushed her bra aside and sucked one nipple into his mouth. “Blane.”
A quick movement and he’d unhooked her bra, tossing it to the side somewhere in the vicinity of her shirt. Then both breasts were free. He didn’t know where to go first, to her nipples—hard and ready for his mouth—or to her mouth, swollen and calling for more of his kisses.
Or lower.
Mandy made the decision for him, leaning up to slant her lips across his for a hot, drugging kiss before gripping his hair tightly and shoving his head toward her breasts.
His neck twinged slightly at the movement, but then her fingers were on the ache almost before it registered, massaging away the slight pain.
“Sorry,” she panted. “I’m sor—”
He flicked his tongue across one nipple, using his free hand to tweak her other, not wanting anything to pull her out of this moment. If he only had this one shot, then he was damned well going to take advantage of it.
“Oh, God,” she groaned as he sucked on her nipple, teasing it with his teeth, using his tongue to tease her until she was writhing beneath him.
And then he switched sides.
Her fingers were in his hair, tugging, straining as he brought her higher, until her hips were rubbing against his and he could barely see, so strong was his need to be inside her.
Trailing his mouth lower, he kissed across her abdomen, the outside of each hip, the top of her pelvis. Then he was sliding her underwear down as he made his way toward the hot, wet center of her.
The first touch of his tongue against her pussy made her scream.
“Blane. Please!”
His cock went impossibly harder, his fingers clenched into fists, every muscle in his body went ramrod hard. He licked her again, forcing his hands to relax so that he could spread her wide and slip his tongue through her folds.
She was absolutely dripping and the best thing he’d ever tasted.
One thumb teased her entrance then slipped inside as he kissed her clit, learning what she liked, finding the rhythm that had her grinding against his mouth and crying out his name as she exploded.
“Fuck,” she said. Her breaths came in rapid exhales. “That was—”
“You’re incredible,” he said, grabbing his shirt to wipe off his mouth.
“Hey.” She cupped his jaw. “You stole my line.”
Blane’s cock was threatening to crack in half, he was so hard, but somehow she made him smile. He was also probably two pumps away from embarrassing himself, so when Mandy trailed her hand down his chest, heading in the direction of the button of his jeans, he captured her palm and brought it to his mouth.
“I need a minute,” he said.
She hitched one leg around his hip. “And I
need you inside me.”
“I want to make it—”
“No expectations, remember?” She rolled to her side, stretching for the drawer of her nightstand and pulling out a string of condoms from inside. “This is just us. This moment. And we have all night.”
While Blane liked the sound of all night, he also knew that he wasn’t about to come like a schoolboy after two strokes, his woman needing more.
Not going to happen.
So he grabbed the condoms from her hand and stuck them near her head. Then he proceeded to use every single trick in his arsenal in order to make Mandy insane with desire again. He kissed along her jaw to that spot behind her ear, he sucked on her nipples, slipped his hand between her thighs, rubbing her clit until she was moaning his name again.
And then, only then, did he allow himself to tear off his jeans and put on a condom.
She was gorgeous, her creamy skin flushed pink with desire, her eyes hazy with need, her thighs spread, her pussy glistening.
Fuck, did he want her.
But he also wanted to keep her.
“Now,” she demanded, grabbing for his cock and positioning it by her entrance.
When he hesitated, trying to find just a little more control, she shattered every last thread of it by thrusting her hips up and taking him inside.
“Fuck,” they both hissed.
His forehead dropped to hers, and he concentrated on just breathing, just trying to hold on.
“I need you to move,” she said. “Now.”
She flexed her hips against his, and he was gone.
He moved deep and fast and she urged him on, meeting him thrust for thrust, her head writhing back and forth on the pillow, her eyes shut tight, her muscles straining for . . .
Then, thank fuck, she exploded a heartbeat before his own release rose up and swallowed him whole.
He came to cradling her against his chest, both their hearts still thundering, sweat coating their bodies.
“I knew it was going to be good,” she whispered. “I just didn’t realize how good.”
Blane held her close, knowing that this was the type of good he would never want to give up.
Fifteen