I move into the main room and pull the door open.
Blake is standing there in jeans and a navy Henley. Like this is a normal date. Like I didn't break off our engagement yesterday. Like his mom isn't dying.
His eyes find mine.
He steps inside and presses the door closed.
It's just us in here. Lizzy is in her room, but the rest of the world feels far away.
He brushes my hair behind my ear.
I lean into his touch as his fingers skim my cheek. It's soft and sweet, like he really does love me.
"You okay?" he asks.
"No."
Blake wraps his arms around me. His body is warm and hard, but there's something soft about his embrace.
He leans closer.
Rubs my shoulders with his palm.
"How the hell are you so calm?" I tug at his shirt.
He runs his hand through my hair. "I don't have a choice."
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I know exactly what he means. Pulling yourself together is the only way to keep from falling apart.
"You do it, too." He runs his fingers over my cheek. "You're a strong person."
"Thank you."
"It does hurt me." His voice is steady. Even. "It's just I don't show it."
"You don't show anything. You're like a robot."
He laughs.
Oh, God, that laugh.
It cracks the wall around my heart.
It makes me warm all over.
And it convinces me this is going to be okay. One day. Somehow.
He steps backwards. "Sit down."
I do.
He pours me a glass of water. I drink it greedily. It feels like I've been thirsty for years.
Blake sits across from me. He leans closer, elbows on his knees, palm pressed against his cheek. He stares right into my eyes. "You're a very sweet girl."
"I'm twenty-one. I'm not a girl."
His lips curl into a half-smile. "Do you need some time?"
"Five minutes to pack."
He nods, reaches out, and brushes the stray hairs from my eyes.
He catches a tear on his thumb.
My legs go weak. Thank God I'm sitting. I'm spinning in too many different directions.
My body is desperate for his comfort.
But we're not together. Not even pretending to be together.
I can't ask that of him. No matter how badly I need it.
I press myself up and move into my room. It's a mess, but not out of line for a twenty-one-year-old.
I fold another pair of jeans, another t-shirt, another sweater. Extra socks and underwear. There. That's everything.
Worst-case scenario, well, best-case scenario, I can come back to pick up some extras. Hell, Blake probably has people for that.
There's a light knock on my door.
"Come in," I whisper.
He steps into the room.
His gaze focuses on my unadorned left hand. His eyes turn down. Almost like he really does want to marry me. No, he does. Just not for the right reasons.
He sits on my bed and pats the spot next to him. It's a tiny little bed—a full—but there's just enough room for the two of us.
I rest my head on his shoulder. He slides his arm around me.
His fingers brush against my back.
God, the man really is comforting. We could have had a perfect marriage except for the little matter of him not loving me.
"You're hurting," he says.
I nod. "I'm sorry. It's your mother. It's not fair for me to react like this."
He runs his fingers through my hair.
It wakes up every nerve in my body.
I turn towards his touch reflexively. It's the most comforting thing in the history of the world.
"I can get your mind off it." He drags his fingertips over my neck. "But you'll have to do things my way."
His breath is warm and wet.
I want his way.
I want to feel anything else.
His touch is so soft. My eyes flutter closed. My nerves stand on end. It's an itch, and he's the only thing that can scratch it.
"You'll have to surrender completely," he says.
Perfect. I nod. "Please."
He rises and presses my bedroom door closed. Slides my suitcase out of the way and surveys the bed. "You have any scarves?"
I grab one from my dresser and hand it to him.
Blake rolls his shoulders back. "Take off your clothes. All of them."
I slip out of my sweater, t-shirt, and jeans. Just a bra and panties now.
Blake's pupils dilate. His tongue slides over his lips. I unhook my bra and slide it off one shoulder at a time.
He stares at my chest like he's transfixed, groaning lightly as my bra hits the ground.
His gaze returns to my eyes. There's something in his gaze today—urgency. He needs this too. It's a release for him too.
My sex clenches as I slide my panties to my ankles.
Blake motions come here.
Hell yes. Two steps and my body is pressed against his. I'm on display for him. I'm his. He can use me as he pleases.
He runs his fingertips from the nape of my neck to my ass. His touch is light and patient. Much, much too patient.
He kisses me, slowly sliding his tongue into my mouth.
I grab his shoulders, hook my leg over around his hip, groan into his mouth.
Blake is kissing me. It feels so damn right. It's hard to believe there's so much wrong with this non-relationship.
He adjusts our positions so I'm a foot away from the wall. Not the one that connects with Lizzy's bedroom. The one we share with the neighbors.
Blake guides my arm, placing my palm flat against the wall. He does the same with the other.
His hands close around my hips. He nudges me a few inches closer. My nose is six inches from the wall. There's barely any breathing room.
He pulls the scarf around my eyes, blindfolding me, and ties a tight knot. Everything is fuzzy but I still have a sense of the light in the room.
My body goes cold as he moves away.
The light changes. The main one is off now. Just the desk lamp. There's shifting behind me. Blake taking off some of his clothes. Everything inside me wants to turn around, to rip this blindfold off so I can drink in the sight of his gorgeous body.
He moves closer. His nails scrape against my back, trailing down my spine. He digs his fingers into my ass with a heavy groan. "What do you want?"
"You."
"How?"
That flutter below my belly goes into overdrive. I want him every way, including a million ways I'll never get him. But that isn't what he's asking. He doesn't care if I love him or not.
This isn't about love.
This is fucking, pure and simple.
I press my fingertips against the wall. Something to contain the desperate feeling in my body. "Inside me. So deep I can't breathe."
Blake groans as he slides two fingers inside me.
I press my palms into the wall. It's not enough. It doesn't contain the pleasure racing through me. I swallow a groan. I'm not waking up my sister. Not like this.
He fucks me with his fingers.
He brings his other hand to my breast and toys with my nipples.
I press my back against his chest, soaking up the feeling of his body against mine.
This is sex. Just sex.
But it's more too.
He wants me feeling good. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
"Blake." I slam my hand against the wall. There's the deepest, hardest tension inside me. It's perfect agony.
He draws circles around my nipple, sending pangs to my sex.
Almost…
I arch my back, shifting my body into his, pushing him deeper.
The tension in my core knots.
I arch my back.
I bite my lip.
There.
I bring my hand to my mouth to muffle my groan
s. My sex pulses as I come. Pleasure spreads out through my limbs. It pushes away all the storm clouds in the room.
Blake brings his hands to my hips and pulls me into position.
I shift my hips as he enters me. It's like I'm home, like I'm whole.
He brings his mouth to my ear. "You feel so fucking good." He groans, digging his nails into my hips.
He pushes deeper. Deeper. Deeper.
I gasp. It's so much pressure, so much it hurts. But that's its own kind of good.
He brings his hand to my pelvis and holds me against him. All I can do is surrender to the feeling of him deep, deep inside me.
Pleasure whirs around inside me. "Blake," I groan. I rid my mind of conscious thought.
"Tell me you're mine," he commands.
"Tonight," I say.
"Always." He slides his fingers over my clit as he thrusts into me.
"Tonight." My legs shake. My breath catches in my throat. "I'm yours tonight."
He lets out a low, heavy groan.
He moves harder. Deeper.
I arch my back to meet him, rubbing my clit over his fingers like they're my personal sex toy. The ache inside me fades to bliss. I'm close.
"Don't stop," I moan.
"Like hell." He grabs my hair and pulls my head back, so my neck is pressed up against his mouth. "You're mine," he growls against my neck.
Tonight. I'm his tonight. It's the only thing I want to be.
He grabs my hips and pins me to the wall. I turn my head, arching my back to keep him as deep inside me as he'll go.
Blake kisses me. It's hard, hungry, desperate. He moans into my mouth.
Then, his lips are on my neck, and he's moving harder. Deeper.
His fingers slide over my clit with that same rhythm. Almost. Almost…
"Blake." I groan his name as I come.
The release is a rush. I go into free fall. I lose track of everything but the bliss spreading through by body.
He doesn't stop. He keeps rubbing me. Keeps thrusting into me. It's too much sensation. It hurts like hell.
Blake nips at my ear. "Fuck. Kat."
Then it's not too much. It's perfect. This orgasm is fast and hard. It starts high. Builds and builds. Tighter and tighter.
Everything releases as his nails dig into my skin.
I come in waves. I shake. I lose my grip on the wall.
Blake grabs me and throws me on the bed face first. I hold on to my comforter as he pushes my legs apart and slides inside me.
He's mine tonight.
He pins me to the bed as he fucks me.
A few thrusts of his hips and he's there, shaking as he comes inside me.
My breath returns slowly.
Blake collapses next to me. He pulls off my blindfold and pulls me into his arms.
He's staring at me with all sorts of affection.
Like he really does love me.
"You okay?" His voice is soft. Sweet.
I nod. "Great." Physically, at least.
He presses his lips against mine.
It's not raw heat and desire.
It's need. Love. Something like love.
My heartbeat picks up. I get warm everywhere.
I let myself believe it. I let myself hold onto every drop of his affection.
"I hate to rush you, but we should head out." He brushes the hair behind my eyes.
I nod to the door. "You never gave me those five minutes."
He slides off the bed and waits in the living room.
I dress and run a brush through my hair.
Whatever it takes, I'm going to survive the next week.
Chapter Thirty-Four
No limo today. Blake drives a black sports car. It's spotless inside and out. It matches him perfectly.
Supposedly, he wanted to give Jordan the week off.
But I don't buy that story.
I think he wanted privacy.
I'd bet good money that no one has ever seen Blake cry, not as an adult, at least.
The drive is quiet.
This late, the roads are empty. Everything is a blur of asphalt and sky.
I rest my head against the passenger-side door and watch the stars fly by. The farther we get from the city, the brighter they are.
The suburbs sneak up on me. I blink, and we're parked in front of Meryl's house.
It's funny. This place is the picture of idyllic perfection. It's not the kind of place where someone dies.
Blake insists on carrying my suitcase. I let him.
The gesture is sweet. I need the warmth of it.
We move into the house quietly. There's a light in the kitchen and a nurse sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. He nods to Blake like they know each other.
"Miss Sterling is resting," the nurse says. "She asked not to be disturbed until eight tomorrow."
"Thank you." Blake sets our suitcase at the base of the stairs. He turns to me. "You're staying in Fiona's room tonight. Last one on the right."
"What about Fiona?" I ask.
"She's coming up in the morning." He brushes the hair from my eyes. "You can stay in my room when she arrives."
I swallow hard. Sharing a bed with Blake is tempting. And dangerous. That's a quick trip to feelings-ville, that awful place where I'm crazy about him and he cares about me.
"I can't kick you out of your room." I slide my hands into my pockets.
"I insist." He nods to the bedrooms upstairs. "Let me put these away."
I take a seat at the table next to the nurse and offer my hand to shake. "I'm Kat."
"Vincent." He shakes.
"How are things? Is she okay?"
"I can't talk about that."
"Of course." Doctor-patient confidentiality. I know that. "You any good at chess?"
"Not at all."
"Me either. I might have a chance to win a game without a handicap."
Vincent checks his watch. "You're on."
I find the game and set it up on the table. I even give him white.
Vincent stares at the board for a minute then moves one of his pawns two spaces forward. Most of his attention is on his coffee. Well, most of his attention is somewhere else entirely.
Mine, too, but the game is a perfect distraction. I weigh every move like it's critically important.
The stairs creak. Blake.
He sits next to me, rubbing the inside of my wrist with his thumb.
Blake's touch is a perfect bit of comfort. I want to surrender to it. To soak up all of it.
But I can't. Not if he's never going to love me.
I win. Truth be told, Vincent isn't trying. But a win is a win.
Vincent excuses himself, grabs another cup of coffee in the kitchen, and goes to wait in the den.
Blake takes his seat and sets up another game. "You need a drink?"
I shake my head.
We play in silence. No queen handicap. He discards a rook instead.
I keep my eyes on the checkered board instead of looking at him. There's too much in his expression. It hits me someplace deep.
Blake puts me in checkmate. Figures.
"Play another?" he asks.
I nod. Focus on my pieces. They're little plastic things, cheap and flimsy. This is one of those chess sets you buy at the drugstore for five dollars, but then I'm not the type who needs to put a price tag on everything.
This chess set is a priceless distraction.
It's worth everything.
I'm more aggressive this game. We start trading pieces. I ignore my endless strategy contemplation and make the first move that comes to mind. It's pure instinct.
"Check," Blake says.
"What?"
"You have me in check," he says. "Didn't you notice?"
I look down at the board. Holy shit. How did I miss that?
"You won't get me that easily, Wilder." He laughs.
Fuck. That laugh. It makes my knees weak. It makes my stomach flutter. It makes me feel everything.
He moves his queen in front of his king. Figures the stupid king is sacrificing his wife. Asshole.
Well, fair is fair. I take his queen. "Checkmate."
"Now you're paying attention."
"I was too in the zone to pay attention to you and your wife-sacrificing ways."
"It was the best tactical move." His voice is light, joking.
"You always make the best tactical move, don't you?"
He takes my hand. "Not if it's a poor long-term move."
"But that's always it—it's always strategy."
"It's chess."
"But it's always strategy with you." I pull my hand into my lap. "Should we play again?"
"Kat."
"No. You're right. It's just chess."
"Reconsider." He stares into my eyes. "We don't have to rush."
"Yeah, right, as long as I mention it to your mom tomorrow?"
"That's not it."
He reaches for me, but I push his hand away.
I stare back at him. "I'm not marrying someone who doesn't love me."
He says nothing.
"Goodnight, Blake." I push off the table and walk up the stairs without looking at him once.
The suburbs are quiet. Even at our place way out in Brooklyn, New York City is loud. There are taxis, pedestrians, subways rumbling underground.
Out here, there's nothing. Not even a fan for white noise.
I toss and turn. Sleep isn't happening. I shouldn't have spent the afternoon in a state of near unconsciousness.
There's a soft knock on my door.
I push out of bed and answer.
Blake is standing there in his pajamas. He looks normal. No, he looks hurt. Needy.
"Come to my room," he whispers.
"It's not a good idea."
"Do it anyway." He slides his hand around my waist and pulls me closer. "You shouldn't sleep alone."
"I shouldn't sleep with you."
He presses his lips to mine. "So don't sleep."
Warmth spreads through my body. It's a compelling argument.
But I can't.
I rise to my tiptoes and press my lips to his. "I'm sorry. For everything." I take a step backwards.
He nods with understanding.
Still, it breaks my heart closing the door and climbing into bed alone.
Once again, I wake up alone.
The room is bright. The house is buzzing with conversation.
I brush my teeth, change, and head downstairs. The kitchen and living area are empty. The conversation must be in Meryl's room.
Dirty Boss Page 48