Blake sits next to me. He eats and drinks slowly. Patient as always. His eyes pass over me like he's watching me.
I try to slow down.
"You don't have to do that." He sips his coffee. "I like you messy."
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. Sure enough, there's something to wipe. I'm a messy eater. I'm messy. Not a fit for this perfect, clean apartment. For his perfect, clean life.
Okay. No need to jump to conclusions. I take a not quite so messy bite. "Thank you, I guess."
"You remember what I said that first night at my office?"
"That was a long time ago."
He brushes his thumb against my chin, wiping off a drop of coffee. "When you're with me, you won't want for anything."
Heat spreads through my body. Wanting. Yep, that describes it very well. I focus my attention on my breakfast. "I haven't." Mostly. There is one thing he can't give me, but Blake was always clear about love being out of the question.
I finish my eggs and coffee. Damn, quite the plate of raspberries left. These things are so good. It's almost wrong. I place a berry on my tongue and press it against the roof of my mouth. It's so soft, it nearly dissolves. Sweet and that perfect hint of tart.
Blake watches me. He steals a berry off my plate and pops it into his mouth.
Well, two can play that game. There are orange slices on his plate. I grab one and tear into it. Orange juice drips down my chin. There's a drop on my pajama bottoms. So I'm messy when I eat fruit, so what? I toss the peel on my plate, grab another orange slice, and do the whole thing again.
Blake laughs. A little laugh, but the sound is still damn sweet. He runs his thumb over my chin and brings it to his mouth.
His eyes find mine. He does it again, licking his thumb like it's some part of me he wants to consume. Desire whirs around me. I need that mouth on me.
I slide off my stool so I'm right in front of Blake. He presses his palm into my lower back. The other slides through my hair.
He kisses me hard, like he's sucking every bit of fruit juice off my lips. His hand digs into my hair. The other sides under my tank top.
Want rushes through me. I tug at his t-shirt. I slide my tongue into his mouth.
Blake shifts off his stool. His body presses against mine. Any lingering tension inside me relaxes. He feels so damn good.
Without breaking our kiss, he slides his hands under my ass and lifts me onto the kitchen island. My legs part to make room for him.
He pulls my tank top over my head. His hands go right to my breasts and he rubs my nipples with just enough pressure. Desire shoots through me. I need him now. I'm utterly void of patience.
I run my fingers through his hair. I groan into his mouth. His thumb brushes against my nipples. Yes, oh, God, yes.
He breaks our kiss. Sinks his teeth into my neck with a loud groan. "Plant your hands behind you."
I do. I press into my palms so my back arches. I'm at a perfect diagonal, my sex pressed up against his cock. Stupid pajamas pants in the way.
He pulls my pants to my feet and kicks them aside. No waiting, Blake does away with his t-shirt, his pajamas, his boxers.
I gasp. There he is, hard and ready for me.
He grabs my hips and pulls me to the very edge of the counter. His hands slide over my outer thighs, to just under my knees. He holds me there as he enters me.
Wow. Wow. Wow. My body is on fire. It's the best thing in the damn world. I arch my back to bring him deeper.
His eyes close. The look on his face is pure ecstasy. He groans. No teasing this time. No slow. He squeezes my knees and thrusts into me. Pleasure pools inside me. It's hard. It's deep. It's perfect.
He does it again. Again. Again. My body careens towards bliss. It shouldn't be possible for this to feel so good, but it does. He always feels so damn good.
Blake's breath catches. His eyelids press together. A perfect groan escapes his lips. He's close. He's almost there.
I shift my hips, something to push him over the edge, to force him to lose control. His nails sink into my skin. Yes, fuck me, use me, come inside me.
His eyes burst open with an intense as all hell look. "On your back," he says.
I lower myself onto my elbows then my back. The marble counter top sends a rush of cool down my skin, but it's quickly replaced by the heat coursing through my body.
Blake grabs my hips. He pulls me just a little bit closer to the edge then takes my legs and places them against his chest. He holds my ankles against his shoulders.
He thrusts into me. Pleasure shoots through me. A hint of pain, too. This position feels so much deeper. I pull my arms over my head, reaching for something to grab on to. They hit other side of the counter. That does the job. I squeeze it like I'm holding on for my life.
He thrusts into me. Again. Again. Again. I can only shift my hips to meet his movements. My eyes flutter closed. No thinking now. Nothing but this feeling.
Bliss courses through me with every motion of his hips. Almost there. So damn close. I squeeze the edge of the counter. I scream something incomprehensible.
He holds my ankles tighter. He moves a little harder, a little faster, a litter deeper.
That tension inside me builds. Closer, closer, closer.
I lose control of everything. It's so much, too much. I can't take it. I gasp. I groan. I arch my hips.
With one hand, he grabs my hips. He brings me closer, so it's deeper. Harder.
Deep breath. That bit of discomfort fades to something wonderful. It's not too much. It's perfect.
An orgasm builds inside me. Every thrust sends me a little closer. Almost all the way to the edge. Almost to my limit.
"Blake," I groan. My sex clenches. That must be it. It's so much, so good, so intense.
There. I come in waves. Bliss spreads through my body. Every part of me feels so damn good.
Blake moves with that same perfect rhythm. It's almost too much. I almost beg him to stop, to give me a chance to catch my breath.
He moves his hands back to my ankles and holds them close to his chest. I arch my back to meet him. I need to make him feel this. I need to feel him come.
His breath hitches. He groans. That look builds on his face. Yes. He's almost there.
My sex clenches. It's enough to bring me back to the edge. Almost. So damn close.
The pressure builds and builds. My groans get louder, higher. I'm sure someone can hear, that everyone in the damn building hears.
"Blake," I scream it as I come down. Yes, God yes.
He thrusts into me again. His eyelids press together. His lips part to make way for a groan.
"Kat."
He squeezes my ankles as he comes. I can feel every twitch of his cock, every bit of his bliss.
It's perfect.
My muscles relax. I'm utterly spent.
Blake shifts. He grabs my hands and pulls me up, so we're about eye to eye. There's something so soft about his expression. Not love, but he really does care about me.
That's something.
It's not enough, but it's something.
He presses his lips to mine.
That's perfect, too.
***
The day is sweet. A perfect date, really. We wander around the Met until afternoon, breaking only for lunch at the museum cafe. The weather is beautiful—blue skies, light breeze, not even the threat of rain.
We walk around the park for hours with our hands intertwined. We don't talk much. Blake isn't really one for conversation.
It's so comfortable. It's so sweet. It's so damn perfect.
Red streaks across the sky. Almost sunset. Blake stops at a bench and pulls me onto his lap. He presses his lips into mine. Soft. Sweet. Perfect.
When we break, I try hard to keep my gaze on the sky. Not happening. His face is so much more interesting. There's so much in those gorgeous eyes. They're still a mystery.
He leans a little closer. One hand pressed between my shoulder blades. The other brushes str
ay hairs behind my ears. My whole body buzzes with something I can't quite identify. It's not that pulsing desire, but it's not quite comfort, either.
"Come to Paris with me." His eyes go wide with excitement. "We can spend the week having sex. We can go to every great museum in Europe. I already have my schedule cleared."
"I'm glad it's convenient for you." I press my hands against the back of the bench. No way to shift. I'm in his arms. I'm staring right into his eyes.
His expression stays soft. "That's not it."
He runs his fingertips over my cheek. It's gentle. Loving even.
"I want to be there with you," he says. "I want that week with you."
Warmth fills me. It starts in my chest and spreads through my tummy. I take a deep breath. This is so close to everything I want.
But it's not enough.
"And then what?" I ask.
"Then we'll be together." His voice is sweet. Sincere. "I like having you around."
"Is that all—that you like having me around?" I dig my fingers into his shoulders. It's hard as hell, but I keep my eyes on his. No blinking. No turning away.
I need the truth this time.
His fingers skim my cheek. "I care about you, Kat."
There's that ugly word again. Care. My gaze shifts to the sky. The sunset is damn beautiful. I can see it but I can't feel it. Not in my bones. Not the way I should.
No turning back now. I make eye contact with Blake. There's still no telling what he's thinking.
"Is that all?" I ask. "Care."
He stares into my eyes. "We'd be happy."
I try to shift back, but there's no room. He holds me in place. Runs his hand through my hair again. Such a serene setting, but there's a damn storm inside me. He might as well have said yes, care is all.
Deep breath. I've come this far.
"I'm in love with you, Blake." My voice waivers, but I press on. "I'm madly, crazy in love with you, and it drives me crazy. I can't eat or sleep. I think about you all the time. I draw you. I try so hard to draw something else but when I look at the paper, it's you. Half my damn portfolio project is about you."
I stare into his eyes, trying to find some reaction. There's only one thing I can see, and it's not love. It's not joy that I'm finally telling him this.
He's afraid.
He's afraid of my Goddamn feelings.
"Kat."
His voice is all even and calm. The asshole.
I have to look away. I can't help it. The sky is orange. It's practically glowing. "I understand you don't believe in love. You don't think you're capable of it. Whatever it is, fine. If that's really how you feel, fine." I squeeze the fabric of his sweater. "But I can't be with you unless you love me. Unless you're madly in love with me."
He goes to touch my cheek but I stop him.
"Don't do that." I stare into his eyes, still getting nothing. Okay. Fine. Might as well finish what I started. "You don't have to answer now. You can think about it."
"Kat." His voice sinks, like he doesn't think there's even the faintest chance of this.
Deep breath. "If you are in love with me, then I will go to Paris with you. I'll go anywhere with you. But it's all or nothing, Blake. I can't be with someone who doesn't love me."
I try to shift off the bench, but he holds me in place. He grabs onto my shoulders, somehow sweet and controlling all at once.
I try to move again, but he squeezes me harder.
"There's no negotiating this," I say.
"I care about you."
"And that's not enough." I push off his chest, but there's still no good. Fine. Might as well use this once. "Chess."
He releases me immediately.
I grab my purse from the bench. One more look at Blake, at those gorgeous, impossible to read eyes. There's nothing I can say, nothing left to do now.
I take a step backwards. His eyes are still on me, but he doesn't object. He doesn't ask me to stay.
I swallow hard. "I'll see you around, I guess."
I turn and I run. I run until the park is a blur. Until I'm sitting on a subway heading back to Brooklyn.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lizzy hugs me the second I get home. I don't need a mirror to know the hurt is written all over my face. There's nowhere else for it to go. I'm bursting at the damn seams with it.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
I shake my head and hug my sister a little tighter.
"You want to talk about it?" she asks.
"Yeah, I do." For once, I really do.
***
We talk for hours. I tell Lizzy everything that's happened with Blake the last two months. I tell her about the will reading, about Meryl, about where I'm applying to school.
She listens with rapt attention. My little sister is quite the friend. She confesses that Stanford was her first choice, that she was always planning to go there but was too afraid to tell me.
I send her to bed sometime after midnight. It is a school night. She mutters something about how she already got out of school for my fake wedding and there's no way she's leaving me alone.
Still, I take to my room. I draw instead of sleeping. All of Blake. Or something to do with Blake. The guy is still the only thing I can think about.
And it's not like I can blame him. He was always clear about his intentions. He was always true to his word.
Hell, it's not like he said no. It's not absolute. There's still a chance. A tiny chance, but that's something.
***
Lizzy stays home from school. I stay locked in my room, alternating between napping and sleeping. I turn my phone off. There's no way I could handle hearing an actually, I don't love you, sorry from Blake. I need a few days before I can stomach that.
At lunchtime, Lizzy knocks to ask if I've eaten. When I say no, she brings grilled cheese and tomato soup. Exactly what Mom always made on rainy days. I dip my sandwich in the soup so it soaks up the rich tomato flavor.
Lizzy sits on my bed, watching me carefully. "So, I was thinking..."
I keep all my attention on my sandwich.
She really tries to sell the enthusiasm. "We have the Botanical Gardens rented out tomorrow. Maybe we should go. It could be nice."
Knife in back, twisted. I stare at her, trying to figure out why she'd suggest such a thing. Not like I need a reminder of how far Blake was willing to go for a loveless life with me. Well, a loveless few months, at least.
Lizzy plays with her jeans. "Kat. I know you're upset, but you love the park. I walked by yesterday and it's gorgeous. It's got to be the last few days the trees are in bloom. They're so pink and so full. Do you really want to miss that?"
Damn. She knows my weakness. "Fine."
"Okay, good." She smiles.
It's too much of a smile. Like she has something up her sleeve. I study her reaction, but she catches on too quickly.
She shifts off the bed. "Well, I'll let you work." She closes the door as she leaves.
Music blares from her room, but I swear I hear voices. Like she's on the phone with someone.
***
Beautiful day. The sky is bright blue. Only a few fluffy white clouds. Warm enough I don't need a coat. My sweater dress is enough.
Pink to match the cherry blossoms. Cheesy, I know, but I love the things. They're so lush and pink for two weeks then all their petals blow away in the wind and they look like ordinary trees again.
These are my weeks, and this is my day, and Blake is not going to ruin it for me.
Lizzy talks to the woman at the admission counter. There's a sign that says Park Closed for Private Event. We're the event.
The woman nods and smiles. The look people get when you say anything about a wedding. They get so excited you'd think they're the ones getting married.
She unlocks the gate and ushers us inside. No word about our clearly not wedding attire.
There's something on Lizzy's face—she's nervous. And she only gets nervous about grades.
&nbs
p; We make our way through the rose garden—her favorite. Roses in every shade of red, pink, and purple. She checks if the coast is clear and plucks a deep red rose.
"Lizzy!"
"It's for you." She hands me the flower.
"Don't deface government property for me." The flower is gorgeous, but I still have to be a good influence.
"Yeah, I guess you're right." She grabs my free hand and runs forward. "Better get to those cherry blossoms."
Okay, something must be up. She hates running with a fiery passion.
It's only a few hundred feet to the cluster of trees, and without anyone here to get in our way, it's a fast trip. I stop under the shade of a blooming tree to catch my breath.
"Um, Kat." Lizzy clears her throat. "So..."
Yeah, something is absolutely up. I follow her gaze through the cluster of trees, all the way across the little lake, to the place where we were going to hold the ceremony.
Blake.
He's standing there. I'm too far away to make out the expression on his face, but it looks like he's holding a bouquet of flowers.
My heart races. He can't be here. This can't be... We're supposed to be enjoying the gardens together. As in Lizzy and me, not Blake and me. I can't be "let down gently" here. It will ruin the park forever.
I walk slowly across the bridge, to the other side of the lake. There are paper lanterns strung between the trees. A special decoration for weddings.
He's twenty feet away. Fifteen. Ten. One hand is in the pocket of his jeans. The other is holding a bouquet of red roses. His long sleeved t-shirt is hanging off his shoulders just so. The guy has aloof down to an art. I'll give him that much.
He's awfully good at driving me crazy. I'll give him that, too.
He motions to the bouquet. "These are supposed to be for your sister. She helped me organize this."
Figures.
Blake drops the flowers on the ground. "Kat." He runs his hand through his hair. His cheeks turn ever so slightly red.
Blake Sterling is nervous.
It's adorable.
"Did you mean what you said about Paris?" he asks.
"Yeah." My stomach flip-flops. That must mean. Deep breath. I can't get too excited. Not when he could crush me.
The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 24