When we're finished, he clears the table and returns with fresh drinks.
He really is a perfect gentleman.
A loving son.
Everything else might be bullshit. But I'm positive Blake adores his mother.
He slides his arm around my waist and pulls me into a tight hug.
His lips hover over my ear. "You're tense."
"I'm fine."
"Are you ever going to admit when you aren't okay?"
"Are you ever going to ask how I feel instead of telling me?"
His voice softens. "Are you alright, Kat?"
"No. I'm kind of tense. You might have noticed."
He lets out a tiny laugh. "You think I'm an asshole."
"If the asinine statements fit…"
"I'll work on asking."
"I'll believe it when it happens."
"Fair." He presses his lips to my neck. "I can get your mind off everything."
"I'm not sure what you're referring to, Mr. Sterling."
His voice drops to that demanding tone. "You are."
"Not at your mom's house."
He pulls back. Takes a long sip of his whiskey.
His eyes pass over me, slowly picking me apart, finding any hint of weakness.
Or maybe he's trying to figure out what I need.
Maybe that look is one of support rather than attack.
Maybe I'm reading him all wrong.
Blake offers his hand. "Come here."
I squeeze his fingers. They're warm. Comforting. I tell myself it's okay I find his touch this calming, but I'm not sure I believe it.
He leads me to the den. It's a cozy room with a TV, a couch, and a small table.
He motions sit then digs through the shelf and pulls out a box. Chess.
"I haven't played since grade school," I say.
"The rules are easy." He sits and arranges the pieces on the black-and-white board.
I sit across from him. "I haven't got a chance against you."
"I'll take a handicap."
"Is that right?" I ask.
"The simplest and most severe is removing the queen." He picks up the black queen and sets it on the table.
"Why is it the most severe?"
"The queen is the best piece on the board. It can move in any direction, any number of spaces."
"And to win I have to murder your king, right?"
A laugh. He's actually laughing. It's the best thing I've ever seen. It lights up those blue eyes.
God, those eyes are beautiful.
I clear my throat. So. Not. Going. There.
"What is so funny?" I ask.
"It's called checkmate. Or check."
"It's regicide, plain and simple, buddy. Don't sugarcoat it."
Blake smiles.
My knees go weak. His smile does things to me. It's incapacitating.
He explains all the movement rules, but I'm only barely paying attention. I'm too caught up in that smile.
It takes forever for me to get the rules. Bishops are on the diagonal, pawns go forward one, attack on the diagonal. Knights are some weird 2:1 angle and they jump. Rooks are horizontal and vertical. The queen can move in any direction, any number of spaces. And the utterly useless king can only move one space in any direction.
"That's bullshit," I say.
Another laugh. My heart races. My stomach flutters. The whole world feels warm and safe.
He's laughing at me. Teasing me. I'm like a kid in grade school again, desperate for the boy I like to pull my hair.
Well…
I do want that. But not here.
"Why is that?" His voice is light. Easy.
"The queen has all the power. She's a total badass. Why is this stupid game based around protecting a king who is hiding behind all his minions?"
"Think of him as a figurehead. And the queen as the one pulling strings behind the scenes."
"Yeah, I'll consider that." I look at the board. I'm white, the player who goes first. A pretty big advantage, apparently, but nothing compared to losing a queen. "Is that your attitude towards powerful women—you throw them away?"
He stares at me. His voice gets serious. Well, more serious. "I'm not going to throw you away."
"I'm not powerful."
"You are."
"You're right. I have a great power to deceive people. But you have that too."
He slides out of his seat and kneels in front of me. His fingertips graze my thigh, right under my dress. "You're capable of so much."
My heart does a backflip. "Like what?"
"You're captivating."
He slides his hand up my inner thigh. My eyes close instinctively. Want flutters through my body. I tug at my dress. My legs part. Captivating. I like the sound of that.
Blake leans closer. His lips connect with mine.
His tongue claims my mouth. His hand slides over my panties. Damn. I'm wet already.
I need him touching me. Even if this is the most inopportune place.
He kisses me harder. Presses his palm flat against me. He's so, so close to touching me properly.
"Jesus H. Christ!" Fiona shrieks.
Blake shifts back into his seat.
Fiona shakes her head. Wipes tears from her puffy eyes as she storms into the kitchen. She returns with a bottle of red wine. "You have an empty limo for that."
Blake leans in to whisper. "Are you okay alone for awhile?"
"Sure." It's sweet he wants to help his sister. Even if I'm not quite clear on their relationship.
He looks to her. "Grab another glass."
Fiona shoots him a really, in front of your arm candy? Look.
I push myself to my feet. "Will Meryl mind if I ask to join her on the balcony?" It's the perfect excuse to check on her. Ease the tightness in my chest a little.
"No. She likes you." Blake squeezes my hand. "But knock first."
Fiona sets the wineglass on the table. She looks like she's about to come apart at the seams. I know how that feels—I was walking around like that the year after the accident. It took a long time to feel anything close to okay.
I move to the stairs. They creak with every step. The hallway too.
I knock on the door in the corner. "Meryl. It's Kat. I'm looking to get some air, and Blake is preoccupied downstairs."
Footsteps, and the door opens. Meryl smiles. There's no strain on her face. No signs of her outburst.
She motions come in. I do. Her bedroom is clean but not freakishly so. Nothing like Blake's place.
I follow her onto the balcony.
It's cozy. We can see into the backyard. There are a few scrawny trees. And there are flowers just starting to bloom.
She leans against the wooden railing and looks up at the stars. "I hate to get didactic, dear, but take a look at these. You can never see them in the city."
She's right. The dark sky is dotted with them. I haven't seen this many stars since I was a kid. "It's beautiful."
"Yes. They make you think. They're like roses. They're too good as metaphors."
"True."
"You mind if I ask your age?"
"I'm twenty-one."
"A baby. Your whole life is ahead of you." Her sigh is wistful. "If you do marry Blake… you can't give up on your dreams. I know it's tempting, basking in luxury, spending all your time sunbathing in Cabo San Lucas, but that's not a fulfilling life."
My chest warms. This is the kind of talk mothers have with their daughters. Only I never got the chance. "I won't."
"I'm sorry about before. My kids mean well, but, quite frankly, they're idiots."
I laugh.
"Really. Fiona and that awful stockbroker. He's such an ass. Just like her father. Well, not quite. Thank God."
There's something about her voice.
Blake was casual about his father hitting him. Because it only happened once? Or because it happened all the time?
I stare back at Meryl, but it doesn't offer any insight. I have no idea wha
t a battered wife looks like. Even if I did, Blake's father isn't around anymore. He died when Blake was a teenager. That was in his about me packet.
"Sweetheart, are you alright?" she asks.
"Oh. Just thinking."
She smiles. "I remember being young and in love. It's hard to concentrate."
"Yes." It is, but it's not the love. It's more the lust.
"Is art school what you want?" she asks.
"I don't know. The last few years, the only thing I wanted was for my sister to be okay. I haven't had the energy to think about the future."
"Is she ill?"
"No. She has a back injury, but it's not serious anymore." I run my fingers over the railing. "My parents died in a car accident three years ago. She was in the backseat. She was in the ICU for a few weeks, but she pulled through. After physical therapy, she was okay. She has most of her mobility."
"Is she in school?"
"She's going to NYU next year." I beam. Lizzy is going to be great. I'm so damn proud of her.
Meryl stares into her wineglass. "You must have grown up fast."
"I did what I had to do for my family."
She turns her attention to me, studying me the way Blake does. "Any art schools in mind?"
"Not yet."
"Make me a promise, dear."
I struggle to keep up my smile. Promises are not my strong suit. "Okay."
Her expression hardens. "Whatever happens between you and Blake, promise you'll go to school."
Above us, the stars shine. They offer all the possibility in the world.
I have that now. Well, as soon as I have the rest of Blake's money.
But I can't lie to Meryl. Not any more than I have.
I need to mean whatever I tell her.
Am I going to school? It's a new idea, but I like it. Four years to focus on what I want, to find my style, to find myself.
It's perfect. "I promise."
She smiles, softening. "You two don't have to get married on my account."
"We're not."
"He told you. I can tell. After my outburst or before?"
I bite my lip. Suddenly aware I'm not in a jacket. "Before."
"Don't rush on my account."
"That's not it. It's just… I want to do it now, before my sister leaves for school."
"Before she's an entire subway ride away?"
I laugh. "She'll be busy. And I want to do this now." Passionate, whirlwind romance. That's the story. I conjure up the image of something that makes my heart flutter, but the only thing that comes to mind is Blake. Damn. "I love him. I don't want to wait."
She studies me. "I'm sure you have the best intentions, sweetheart. But that kind of fire in your loins—I see the way he looks at you like he's undressing you—that never lasts."
"That's your son."
"Men. They're all the same. Always thinking with the head between their legs." She finishes her drink and sets her glass on the railing. Then all her attention is on me. "He's handsome. Rich. If he's good in bed—"
My cheeks flush. "Don't tell me you want to discuss that."
"No. I'm not that… evolved. But I know what it's like being young and in lust. It clouds things. Makes you believe you're in love." She leans in. "But dear, all the money in the world isn't worth a loveless marriage. Trust me on that. True love is priceless."
My heart thuds against my chest.
It's like she knows I'm lying.
Like she can see every lie I've ever told.
I take a step towards the door. I can't keep this up for any longer.
"Excuse me," I say. "I could go for some dessert. Would you like to join me?"
"No thank you. But help yourself. There's coffee and tea in the pantry. Even some of that almond milk everyone is drinking now."
"I think they've moved onto coconut milk."
She smiles. "Good to know. I'll get some of that next time."
"Thank you. For everything."
"Good luck."
I arch a brow.
"With school. It's a lot to consider."
"Oh. Of course."
She looks back to the sky. She's already lost in her own world.
I force myself to leave without another goodbye.
Downstairs, Blake plays chess against himself.
It's quiet. He's alone.
He glances up at me, most of his attention on the board. "I sent Fiona home in the limo. I'll call us a car whenever you're ready to leave."
"She okay?"
"She will be." He pats the spot next to him. "You want coffee?"
"I want that distraction you promised me."
He smiles. "Your wish is my command."
Chapter 17
I get the hang of chess by the end of the second game. Even without his queen, Blake destroys me. The board is picked clear of white pieces except for the scared king cowering the corner.
The weight on my chest gets heavier. This is moving too fast. I met Blake two weeks ago and we're already planning our wedding.
Meryl doesn't want us to rush.
Can she really want us to lie?
Blake's phone buzzes. He picks it up. "The car is here." But he doesn't look happy about it.
I don't ask. Instead, I gather my things and follow him outside.
There's a black town car waiting on the street. It's normal compared to the limo. But it lacks privacy.
I want to be alone with him.
I want to surrender to him. To lose myself to the sensations he's creating in my body.
I step into the car, drop my purse on the ground, fold my hands in my lap.
Blake gives the driver instructions. There isn't any traffic right now. We should be in his apartment within forty-five minutes.
That's too long.
He makes me impatient.
There's an itch inside me. I'm desperate to scratch it.
Blake is all the way on the other side of the car. The middle seat is between us. It's only a few feet, but it feels like a million miles.
I don't get his head or his heart.
I need his body.
I need it pressed against mine.
I need to destroy every inch of space between us.
The car pulls onto the main road.
Blake's eyes pass over me. They light up with some mix of desire and curiosity. Am I a mystery to him too? It's hard to imagine. I feel like my heart is on my sleeve. But he looks at me like he can't figure me out.
He leans closer, so his mouth is hovering over my ear.
The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down my spine. My nerves wake up. They scream for attention.
His lips skim my neck. It's feather light, but I feel it everywhere. My sex clenches. My nipples harden. My knees knock together.
He kisses me harder.
His lips trail from my ear to my collarbone.
His fingers skim the neckline of my dress. "Unzip that."
"But—" I nod to the driver. Honestly, it doesn't bother me. No. It's more than that. I like the idea of the driver knowing. Of someone watching. It feels dirty. Wrong in the right kind of way.
"Now." He pulls my skirt up my thighs. "Don't make me ask again."
His voice is a demand. His eyes too.
There isn't a single part of me that wants to disobey.
I want to forget my thoughts. To forget everything but his words and his touch.
I reach behind me and pull the zipper down to my ass.
"Take it off."
The driver looks at me through the rearview mirror.
My cheeks flush.
My sex clenches.
He's going to watch.
And I want him watching.
I just don't want the car crashing.
I look to Blake and slide my straps off my shoulders, one at a time. My dress falls to my waist. "Is that enough?"
"Take off your bra." His tongue slides over his lips as he gives me a long once-over.
I follow his order
s.
I unhook my bra and drop it on the floor.
This is getting to be a pattern—me topless and him dressed.
On display for him and anyone else who happens to be around.
Blake's eyes fix on me. "You're fucking gorgeous. You know that?"
My cheeks flush. "Thank you."
Blake undoes his seatbelt. He moves into the middle seat and presses his lips into mine.
He palms my breasts, rubbing my nipples with this thumbs. They harden instantly. His touch lights me on fire.
Need. Blake. Now.
It's the only thing my body knows. The only thing it's ever known.
He takes my hand and places it on his thigh.
It makes me hotter. Needier. I want every inch of his skin. I want him every way I can have him.
It feels so good to touch him. Even with his slacks in the way. His legs are muscular. Strong.
He takes my hand and places it over his hard-on.
Yes.
Now.
Please.
He drags his lips to my ear and sucks on my lobe. It sends pleasure right to my sex. I lose track of what I want more—his mouth on me or my hands on him.
It's all of it.
Everything.
"Unzip me," he says.
Yes.
Fuck yes.
I need to touch him.
My breath catches in my throat. My heart thuds against my chest. My hands get clumsy.
I fumble over his belt. Finally, I get it. I undo his button and pull down his zipper.
I cup him over his boxers.
There's barely any fabric between my hand and his cock.
Desire shoots through me. I need to feel him properly. I start to wrap my hand around him, but he grabs my wrist.
"Not until I tell you," he growls.
He's that animal Blake again.
The one I understand. Who understands me. Who knows what I want better than I know it.
I nod. Not until he tells me.
His teeth scrape my neck. It's just hard enough to hurt. "Hands at your sides."
It's torture bringing my hands back to my sides. They want his skin. I need to touch him. I need it in my bones.
He nips at my neck. It's a soft bite. Then a hard one. Pain shoots through me, waking up every nerve in my body.
Yes. I need this. He nips at the skin on my chest. Almost.
His lips brush my nipple. Light. Then harder.
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