Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy

by Eve, Charlotte

  “Whoah, whoah, whoah,” she interrupted. “Just slow down here. Remember what I told you? You need to stop worrying about trying to figure Blake Matthews out. I mean, honestly. What’s the point? Of course a guy like that is hiding something. He’s always been kind of shady. But isn’t that the whole attraction? Wise up, Jessica! To have some fun in bed, you don’t need to figure him out.”

  “I know,” I sighed, for some reason feeling no better for this advice. “But it’s like I just can’t help but want to get to know him somehow. I feel like there’s this key to him. And if I can just find out what it is, or where it is, then he’ll open up to me …”

  Fallon laughed.

  “Oh baby, I wish I was there to shake some sense back into you. You need to drop this, right now. Okay? You need to play the field, Jessica. You’re still young! And what’s more, it’s clear this guy’s no good for you. You’ll never be ‘Blake’s girl’. No one will. There are plenty more fish in the sea.”

  I sighed, feeling my eyes well up a little as her words finally began to hit home.

  “Hey, what about Josh?” she continued. “He asked me for your number, after our show at Terminal 5. Did he ever get in touch? Come on! He’s gorgeous, and I know for a fact that he’s into you.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “Josh is great. But …”

  “But what?”

  I thought again about the two of them: Blake’s icy coldness in the car on our drive back, versus Josh and his cute brown eyes, always lighting up in a smile, everything about him so friendly and open and warm …

  “But nothing,” I said decisively, nodding to myself. “You’re totally right. He’s great. And I do like him.”

  “Atta girl!” Fallon cheered. “He’s absolutely perfect for you! He’s interesting. He’s talented. He’s … no offense, but he’s the same age as you. And on top of all that? He’s respectful. You should have seen how freaking nervous he was asking for your number. It was like he was asking me for your hand in marriage! So promise me you’ll call him up, okay?”

  “Okay,” I replied. “I promise.”

  But almost the moment after I hung up the call, I wondered why I didn’t tell Fallon that something already had happened again with Josh — about how he helped me, and the night I’d spent with him, making out on that couch nestled away in the corner of that cute little bar.

  I could feel my thoughts whirling and swirling once again. I lay back on the bed, grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.

  What a mess.

  I knew I was young, and supposed to be ‘playing the field’ but dating around just felt so … weird.

  No, Fallon’s right.

  Listen to her this time.

  Josh is cute.

  Josh likes you.

  Give him a real chance this time.

  So I picked up my phone again and thumbed through for his number, took a deep breath, then hit call.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Not now Gina!

  As I got ready that evening, I'd heard my cell buzzing again — no doubt another text from Gina. It had become kind of worrying now. I’d hear nothing for days on end, and then receive like fifteen texts in the space of half an hour, all telling me to come out and hit the town with her. And I’d resolved to get back in touch just as soon as I had a spare moment, one night later this week. I really didn’t feel like going clubbing, like she seemed to be suggesting every night, but Max and Andy had already promised me as many free dinners at Mermaids as I could stomach, so I was planning to take her there, for a surprise meal one night, followed by cocktails and a good long catch up.

  But tonight?

  Well, it may sound harsh but I just didn’t have time for her. I snatched up my cell and actually switched it off, relieved at the thought of just a few hours at least living right here in the present moment.

  I took a step backwards – as much as I was able to anyway in the tiny shoebox of my apartment – to check myself out in the long floor-standing mirror that, for now, was resting at an angle against the wall.

  I’d chosen a tight black leather American Apparel pencil skirt, which I’d teamed with a black lace blouse from Rag & Bone. It was really well structured and I hoped the artist in him would appreciate the tailoring. Plus, it showed off just the right amount of skin: something else I hoped he might appreciate. And if he was really perceptive, then maybe he’d pick up on the fact that the flash of red on the soles of my Christian Louboutin heels might give a clue as to what was going on beneath my outfit. You see, I’d chosen a sexy black and red Myla bra and panties set — underwear I was hoping might get seen.

  But was it all too much? With my sleek clothes and vampish makeup, I worried I might scare him off completely.

  I thought about changing, or maybe toning down my makeup. It would be so easy to just swap my top for a band t-shirt or my heels for some Converse sneakers, wipe off that blood red lipstick and muss my hair up. It would certainly be more Brooklyn.

  No.

  I’m not changing for him.

  This is who I am too.

  And I want Josh to see both sides of me.

  As I headed for the door of my apartment, I shot another glance at my cell — should I take it with me, at least?

  No, I decided. For one night only, I would leave all my other troubles right here at home and enjoy myself without them.

  And if Blake called while I was gone?

  Well, just like Gina, he would have to wait.

  §

  It felt good to be back in Brooklyn again. It seemed like forever since I’d been here, and I found myself relaxing, and I felt at home almost the moment I stepped out of the taxicab.

  Automatically, I reached into my coat pocket for my iPhone, to double-check the directions, before I remembered. But luckily, they flashed back into my memory, surprisingly easily.

  Maybe I should learn to not rely on my phone all the time …

  Gran Electrica was situated in Dumbo, just past the Brooklyn bridge. And the place was gorgeous: tasteful and beautifully lit, with a wonderful outdoor terrace; so much greenery you could almost forget you were in the middle of a bustling city. Josh was already waiting at the table when I arrived — and to my relief he’d dressed up too, his usually unruly hair tamed into a cute side parting, his athletic body shown off for once in a tightly-fitted pale blue shirt.

  “I hope I’m not late,” I smiled as I approached. “Have you been waiting long?”

  Like a gentleman, he got up from his seat, smiling back at me, white teeth flashing, big brown eyes glinting from behind his glasses.

  “No, no,” he replied. “You’re perfectly on time.”

  We both sat back down, and I looked around me once again at the restaurant. Perfect. It seemed just like Josh — that mid-point between hipster and casual, both stylish and everyday, functional and classy and friendly all at once — of course he would have chosen a place like this.

  “This is where I take my thousands of dates,” he smiled at me.

  “Of course,” I said. “I forgot you were such a lothario.”

  “No but really, I have a sort of tradition where I come and have a meal here, whenever I get paid for my work. Whenever I finish a big job. But usually …” he shrugged. “Well, usually I’m on my own.”

  I laughed.

  “In which case, I’m glad I could keep you company,” I smiled back.

  “I’m glad you called me again,” Josh said, his face becoming warm and sincere.

  It was just like him — not scared to talk about his feelings, getting straight to the heart of what he wanted to say.

  “After I waved you goodbye that last time …”

  He smiled and shook his head, trailing off. But I knew just what he was going to say, and decided to say it for him.

  “You thought I wasn’t gonna call again, didn’t you?” I offered.

  “You got it,” he nodded.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so messy,” I said, trying to be just as s
incere, just as honest as he was being with me.

  And it felt weird — kind of scary, and kind of good.

  I felt my pulse quicken a little, the flickering candle on the table between us sending my mind racing back to that last time I’d seen Josh, both of us nestled on a beat up old sofa, kissing long into the night like a couple of teenagers.

  “It’s okay,” Josh said. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

  §

  Which is how, later that night, I found myself back on a sofa making out with Josh again, only this sofa was back at his apartment. The dinner had been great — we’d gotten along so well, it was almost weird how easily we’d fell into each other’s company — and when he shyly invited me back to his place for a ‘nightcap’, I didn’t have to remind myself to ‘play the field’. Instead, I found myself agreeing happily.

  And wow! His place was amazing.

  When I’d asked him who’d made all the stunning furniture, of course he’d casually replied that he’d ‘knocked it up’ himself.

  Josh lived in a huge loft space. Walking in for the first time, taking in the high ceilings and large central live-work space, I found myself questioning my decision to live in a shoebox in Manhattan. One corner of the room was taken up by his workshop; various pieces of furniture in varying states of completion. And as I got closer, were those some paintings too?

  Oh my God, this boy was seriously talented.

  “You didn’t tell me you were a painter too?” I said, surprised when he shook it off with a shy smile.

  “Oh, that’s just a hobby, I don’t like to show anyone those,” he blushed. “Hey, come and look at this ...”

  So I let him lead me back to the living area, to a dark red, beat up Chesterfield sofa that had been given a new lease of life by its relaxed surroundings, facing onto a large coffee table constructed from a repurposed old door.

  And as Josh crouched down in front of his stereo, putting on a crackly old jazz vinyl LP, I let myself sit back on the sofa, positioning myself elegantly, an invite for him to come and join me.

  And join me he did, his eyes meeting mine – both of us knowing exactly what was coming next.

  I leant towards him and kissed him, shivering a little as I felt his hands in my hair, and pretty soon my own hands seemed to have a mind of their own: straying eagerly downwards from his chest, unable to keep themselves from fumbling with his belt.

  Am I moving to quickly?

  It felt kind of strange to be the one in control — because I was the one leading this interaction, and Josh was just letting me take control. Maybe it was because he was worried that, if he exerted himself it might scare me off again, or maybe he was just a more passive lover, happy to let the girl take the lead. But either way, here I was, making all the moves, tugging open his pants and letting my hand slip beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts, my fingers cupping his balls then slipping around the hard, hot shaft of his — nicely average-sized — cock, trying my absolute damndest not to compare it to someone else’s, if you know what I mean …

  I can certainly work with this …

  I even felt him grow a little more in my hand as I began to stroke him, tugging his shorts down around his thighs to free him, wondering if he might think me too forward, too slutty, if I did what I really wanted to do next — which was to let myself fall forward into his lap and take him in my mouth.

  Instead, I felt myself holding back a little, kind of willing him to go a little further with me first, wanting him to reciprocate, to move his hand between my legs, too.

  I kissed him hungrily, my fingers stroking his cock, feeling the warm wetness of his precum begin to slick his silky shaft, my panties too getting rather damp as I spread my legs wide, feeling my dress ride up around my thighs as softly moaned into his mouth, trying to let him know just how ready I was to take things further.

  Finally, it just got too much and I outright grabbed one of his hands and pressed it against my breast, shivering as his fingers found my hard little nipple.

  But this still wasn’t enough.

  Before I even knew what I was doing, I’d full-on straddled him, my dress pushed right up around my waist as I ground myself urgently against him, his cock brushing deliciously against my yearning mound, stimulating my clit through the dampening silk of my panties.

  But despite all my advances, Josh still didn’t seem as into it and after a little while I felt myself freeze up, embarrassed, now just sitting there somewhat awkwardly on top of him, his cock starting to soften between my fingers.

  “What’s the matter?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, looking away for a moment before meeting my eye. “I just think that maybe we’re moving a little … fast?”

  It was so strange, hearing a guy say that. Wasn’t that the kind of thing I was supposed to be saying? But thinking back on my actions, I’d been the eager one here — the one pushing things quickly towards sex. Because that was all I wanted, wasn’t it? I wanted sex: I could feel myself craving it, the way any hot-blooded guy might, but what I’d really wanted — I realized there in Josh’s apartment as I climbed off him again and began tugging my dress back down around my thighs, was sex without consequences, without feelings.

  Because the truth of it was, I still didn’t know exactly how I felt about Josh, and I think it was this he was picking up on, this he seemed so eager to get to the bottom of, right here and now, even if it meant making things totally awkward between us.

  “It sounds silly,” he began, blushing, fumbling with his belt as he tucked himself away again, “but I’ve never much been in for one-night-stands … Not that that’s what this might be, exactly. But, I need to know how you feel about me, Jessica. Does that make sense? I need to know that you’re serious about me, about this. I’ve been hurt in the past, and well, I don’t know if I’m ready to get stung again.”

  I took a deep breath.

  Wow. He really isn’t afraid to talk about his feelings, is he?

  “Okay,” I began, realizing now that what I owed Josh was a similar level of honesty. Honesty about my feelings, honesty about everything. “If you want to know the truth, there is another guy …”

  “Your boss?” he ventured. “That guy who turned up at Fallon’s show?”

  I nodded. It was still kind of weird how intuitive Josh was, how in-tune he seemed to be with everything that had been going on.

  “Yes, that’s him. Blake.”

  It felt strange to speak his name out loud. It had always held a strange electric charge for me, and as I said it, I felt myself yearning for him, missing him, wondering where he was right at this moment, wondering what he was doing, wondering when the next time might be that he’d take me in his arms …

  “Although he’s not my boss anymore,” I corrected. “He’s just … Well, that’s the thing. I don’t know what he is, or what we are. We’re just dating, I guess. And I know he’s seeing other people …”

  At this I trailed off, not daring to look at Josh. And when I finally forced my gaze across to him, I felt my heart lurch as I saw the sad smile breaking on his face, the dawning realization that he wasn’t the only guy in the picture.

  “And so you wanted to try and see other people, too?” he whispered, so slowly and quietly.

  I nodded.

  “That makes me sound pretty damn cold, doesn’t it?” I murmured. “But please believe me, I do like you. It’s just that my life’s become kind of complicated lately ...”

  “I’m sorry,” he replied sadly. “But ‘complicated’ just isn’t on the cards for me right now. Or ever, come to think of it.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” I said. “I wish I’d let you know sooner.”

  “Well, if you had?” he said, pushing himself up from the couch and taking a few paces into the room, before turning to me with a sad smile. “Then I think I would have suggested what I’m about to. That we become friends.”

  I stood up too, taking a step towards him b
efore I realized I didn’t know quite what to do next. I didn’t want to touch him or kiss him, lead him on any further, but I felt so sorry, too, so remorseful. After another moment’s pause, I just threw my arms around him and hugged him in a tight squeeze.

  “I really am sorry, Josh,” I said, “if I led you on or hurt you. I hope we can be friends. I’d like that a lot.”

  He pulled away and sought my gaze, his big cartoon eyes lighting up once more.

  “Of course we can,” he smiled. “I don’t blame you, Jessica. I guess I’m just a little bit old fashioned. I know this is how the New York dating scene works. It’s all about ‘hook ups’ and ‘seeing other people’. My friend suggested I go on Tinder. It’s terrifying! Like shopping for women. That’s just not for me ... I’m definitely looking for something uncomplicated. I’m a one-girl-only kind of a guy. And maybe yeah, that is old fashioned. But it’s just who I am.”

  I laughed. “I know exactly what you mean,” I said. “I always felt too ... well, yeah, prim and old fashioned for New York. But recently? I’ve discovered ...” I blushed, unable to find the words to explain exactly what I was trying to get at. “Um, that, well maybe there is another side to me, if you know what I mean?”

  “I think I get what you’re trying to say,” he replied with a knowing smile.

  “But I’m definitely with you on Tinder!” I laughed. “Fallon showed it to me. Oh my God. If you think the girls are bad, you should see the guys!”

  We both laughed and shook our heads.

  “So, no hard feelings?” I ventured, offering my hand.

  “No hard feelings,” he replied, taking it in his own, shaking it softly. “And hey,” he added with a little glint in his eye. “If things between you and Blake really don’t work out … Then be sure to let me know, okay?”

  I smiled and kissed him softly on the cheek.

  I don’t think I’d ever met such a sensitive, thoughtful guy before, and as I gathered my things to leave his apartment, I marveled again at how easy things still felt between us. I really suspected that we could just be friends …