Текст книги "When We Met"

Автор книги: Christina Lee

Соавторы: Molly McAdams,A. L. Jackson,Tiffany King
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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

When she opened her mouth and flicked the tip of her tongue out to meet mine, I couldn’t help groaning. Her lips were like velvet and I grasped her neck securely, my thumbs skimming across her throat as I dipped my tongue fully inside her mouth. Her fingers moved up and wound tightly in my hair as her tongue lapped insatiably against mine.

“Fuck, Chloe.” My hips ground against hers—once, twice. “See what you do to me?” I was certain she could feel my arousal now.

Our tongues were tangling in a frantic pace and she was moaning into my mouth.

“God, Blake.” She opened her eyes in a panic and a lust-induced haze. “What are we doing?”

She asked this as she continued kissing me, teasing my bottom lip with her tongue. She was so contradictory. Always thinking, even while in a state of passion. Probably making lists in her head. Maybe already trying to redefine the rules.

“Close your eyes and stop thinking, goddamn it,” I said in a gruff voice. “Just feel. Don’t worry about later or tomorrow. This is me and you. Just here and now.”

She responded by grinding into me. Holy hell.

My hand slid up to cup her breast, my thumb slipping across her nipple, while I nibbled on her lips—until I remembered where we were.

I drew away and looked around the bar. Though we were tucked away in a corner against the back wall, it wasn’t like we were invisible. And sooner or later, Chloe would realize that as well and more than likely feel mortified.

I leaned back in and kissed her lips tenderly, combing my fingers through her hair.

“That was some dare,” she mumbled.

I knew this was temporary. Only for this moment. Still I wanted to make sure she knew how amazing she was. “You are so fucking gorgeous. And sexy as hell. Don’t ever forget that.”

I kissed her deeply, one final time, wishing it could last all night.

chapter eight

Chloe

For the next two days I kept touching my lips repeatedly, remembering what it’d been like kissing Blake against that wall in the club. Hot damn. Had I ever been kissed that way before? Like he’d wanted to consume me? Classic movie kisses be damned!

“What’s the deal?” my roommate Courtney asked, pouring herself a big old glass of vino. Courtney loved her wine. She looked at the clock above my head, probably wondering why her boyfriend, Dalton, was running late.

My other two roommates, Misha and Indy, were getting ready to go out for the night—Misha to some new Italian restaurant with Darryn, and Indy next door to her boyfriend Kier’s place, where they cocooned themselves in a lot. Kier was quiet but perfect for Indy. So maybe opposites really do attract.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not meeting their eyes.

“You’re walking around all dreamy,” Indy said, laughing. “Must be a boy. At least I hope it’s finally a boy.”

I tried to deny it, but then I broke down and told them. About Blake and the kiss. “But it was just a dare. It’s not like we’d ever date for real or anything.”

Misha raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because we have different . . . plans for our lives.” Plus he’d made it clear that his family was a huge responsibility and that he’d taken time off from classes to focus on them. Hadn’t he? My emotions and thoughts were so jumbled up at the moment.

“And he can’t figure into your plans?” Courtney said, just as there was a knock at the door. She moved toward the front entrance to let Dalton inside. “He won’t make it onto one of your sticky notes?”

I laughed because damn, Courtney was so right. I went upstairs to change into my jeans and a T-shirt. I was meeting Blake at the space tonight and I had a plan—one that was out of my comfort zone—and I never would have thought of it had it not been for Blake and his invitations to see live shows. I just hoped he’d agree with it and not see it as some last-ditch effort to keep him around an extra couple of days.

Even though it actually might’ve been.

After I arrived, I glanced around the space and was thrilled with how well it had all come together. It looked magical, really—with the Old Hollywood posters we’d hung, along with the film reels and fedora hats in different locations.

I pasted the note I’d scribbled for Blake near the doorknob before heading across the street to buy us our iced hazelnuts.

Be right back—getting our coffees. I have an idea! See you in a few minutes.

When I returned, he was standing against the far wall, one ankle crossed over the other, looking amused. And jeez, how much hotter could he get, wearing a tight pair of dark jeans with that fitted red T-shirt? He looked fresh out of the shower, which meant he’d have the clean soap scent that I couldn’t seem to get enough of.

Not only that, but I was having extreme difficulty tearing my eyes away from his lips. I needed to cut that crap out and act like the other night was just what it had been—something fun and daring.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, trying to rein in my smutty thoughts.

“The fact that I was finally subjected to one of your sticky notes.”

“You should feel special.” I winked.

I thought it was going to be more awkward between us after what had happened at the club. Instead it felt natural, outside of the electricity buzzing in the air between us. The same current that vaulted me toward him.

“So, what’s up?” he asked as I handed him his coffee.

“I had a last-minute idea,” I said, and then nibbled on the inside of my lip, already doubting myself.

“Do you need to consult your notes?” he asked with a glint in his eye.

“Ha, very funny.” I actually had considered grabbing for my notebook on the box across the room.

“What is it?” When he straightened to step closer to me, I held my breath.

Hands shoved in his pockets, he was close enough to kiss. I forced that thought from my mind. “What do you think of the idea of building a short runway?”

His forehead furrowed. “For real?”

“Let me show you my sketch,” I said, heading across the space. He followed on my heels.

I lifted the notebook and flipped to the right page. He was standing directly behind me and I could smell his fresh laundry scent. I tamped down the urge to turn and kiss him senseless. I wondered if he was having the same trouble, because he made some kind of noise in the back of his throat before covering it up with a cough.

“We can build it in the back and then move it outside during the sale,” I said, spinning to look at him.

“As long as you’re okay with a very basic design, shouldn’t take more than a couple of nights.”

His gaze darted between my lips and my eyes as a warming sensation slid from the center of my chest to the depths of my stomach.

“Yes,” I said, sounding too breathy. “That’ll work.”

He kept his eyes fixed on my face, his expression cloaked.

“I figured we could model the clothes,” I continued with some effort, trying to pull away from his heavy gaze. “Maybe it would lead to more sales.”

He straightened himself, rubbing his fingers along the stubble on his chin, as if thinking it through. “You have access to models?”

“Sure, from the design college. They use models all the time and most of them are students,” I said. “A few of them might jump at the chance for this opportunity.”

His eyes lit up in approval. “Good thinking.”

“I bet you’d do well on the runway, too.” From what I’d felt the other night, he was rock solid and smooth. I tried not to allow my eyes to rove too much over his body. “Your height, your stature.”

“Keep dreaming,” he said, shaking his head. “Though I have modeled before. It’s decent money.”

“No way,” I said, nudging his shoulder. “You are full of surprises.”

“See what happens when you take the time to get to know someone?” His gaze lingered on mine, amusement dancing in his eyes.

My cheeks burned at the allegation. “Touché.”

He grinned. “Your idea actually surprises the hell out of me.”

I took a quick sip of my coffee. “Why?”

“You’ve been part of runway shows before, right?” he asked. “The mad chaos that takes place behind the scenes, trying to get the models into the next set of clothes and back in front of the audience?”

My palms felt clammy as I remembered the two shows I’d been a part of in the School of Design. I was a dresser, which meant I stood by my model’s assigned rack and waited to help her between changes. I was extremely organized and had laid out my model’s next outfit at just the exact time so she could slip right in. But he was right—it was sheer pandemonium back there, people yelling out sizes and number order and rushing the models to get their butts back in line.

I didn’t know how my mother had done it on a regular basis. It was the one part of the business I was sure I’d absolutely avoid. While my mother had been extremely driven, I was extremely methodical.

I was cool with shopping and pulling clothes for regular shoots or shows, but throwing together this kind of production, where thinking on the fly and timing were everything, was something that made my heart jackhammer too wildly in my chest.

But if I quieted down and listened—and admitted some things to myself—I would find my own truth. That beneath all of that panicky anticipation, it absolutely did feel magical, to embrace the unexpected.

Just like Blake had described theater. Just like he’d shown me by taking me to a couple of performances. Sure, one was a rock-and-roll gig, but it was still live—and completely exhilarating.

And deep down, I wanted to experience that again—that unpredictable, unbridled sensation—all on my own.

“This show would definitely be run on a much smaller scale,” I said. “Only one outfit change.”

“Ah,” he said, looking at me appraisingly. “Still, I’m proud of you for even attempting to take it on.”

I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. “Thanks.”

He cleared his throat. “Let me see if I can round up some stray pieces of lumber.” He walked away, leaving me to catch my breath.

When he reemerged, he said, “I don’t have enough here to make do. I can come back tomorrow night after a trip to the lumberyard. Sound reasonable?”

“Absolutely. And thank you,” I said. His eyes seem to light up when I showed gratitude, which made me feel even more terrible about the kind of person he thought I’d been before.

“Although . . .” I bowed my head, suddenly unsure of myself and this ridiculous new idea. I didn’t want to look him in the eye. “You’ve probably got other responsibilities you need to finally get back to. Like with your family.”

“Not exactly,” he said hesitantly. “Besides, it’s been nice . . . keeping my mind occupied. I like being here.”

I looked up and met his gaze and saw desire blazing in his indigo eyes. And it had been placed there by me, which was so hot. If I only had that one thing to take away at the end of this experience—that I’d turned this amazingly sexy guy on—that would be cool by me.

“Tonight I can help hang those curtains in the front windows, if you want.”

“That would be great.” I smoothed out the silky material that I’d just begun pressing. Thankfully Jaclyn had an extra steam machine in the back. It saved us time and a trip to the other store. “If you can start screwing in the brackets, I can hand you these when you’re ready.”

He carried a stepladder to the front of the store, where all of the windows were covered with thick butcher paper, and got to work. After drilling holes in the wall, and screwing in the brackets, I passed him the rods that were draped with freshly hung curtains.

Now all that was left was fixing them to my liking.

Stepping down the ladder, he said, “I’ll trade places with you.”

He held the ladder steady for me while I climbed halfway up the rungs. I gathered the material in my hands, trying to tie the one end while he watched from below.

“Shoot, this side is stuck,” I said, trying to jiggle it loose from the strut.

“Here, let me help.” He took a couple of steps up the ladder and placed his arms on either side of me to help pull the curtain off the nail. His chest was right up against my back, his lips near my ear, and I couldn’t help it; I let out a throaty sigh.

“Chloe,” he said in a rough voice.

I lowered my head in defeat and I could feel his jagged breaths against my hairline.

“I know the other night was . . . fun,” he said. “But getting you out of my head during the day hasn’t been so easy.”

My skin pebbled from his revelation.

“Truth is—you turn me on so much. It’s hard not to think about . . . touching you again. For whatever that’s worth.”

“Blake.” His lips skimmed across my neckline and I shivered from the contact. “I’ve . . . never been kissed like that before. For whatever that’s worth.”

“Ah hell.” His voice was thick and husky, as if he were struggling with his last measure of control. The area between my legs prickled like it had short-circuited. “Chloe, what are we—”

His sentence was effectively cut off by his phone ringing. He stepped down the ladder in a jerky motion. “It’s my brother. I need to take this.”

After he answered, he listened attentively and then said through clenched teeth, “What about Mom picking you up?”

He listened some more. “Don’t worry, I’m on my way. Tell your coach I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

We made eye contact, his eyes dark and stormy, before he turned and sprinted out the door. I just nodded; there was no need for further explanation. I knew he had other pressing responsibilities, no matter how much he tried ignoring them when he was here with me.

My heart ached for what he was going through. But my body continued responding to what he’d admitted to me on the ladder.

It took the next hour for my skin to stop prickling. And even longer for me to fall asleep that night.

chapter nine

Chloe

“Truth or dare?” Blake asked casually as he sawed wood for the new runway structure. As if the response to that one question hadn’t already placed us in compromising positions.

I took what had become the easier route tonight. “Truth.”

Besides, it looked like there was something he had been working through in his mind. Maybe we finally needed to talk this crazy attraction thing through.

“What you said last night, about never being kissed like that before . . . what did you mean?” he asked. “When was . . . the last time you had a boyfriend?”

“In high school. He raked my name through the mud right after he wore me down to have sex with him.” I sighed. “I was a virgin and we did everything else for months. And then when I finally gave in, he dumped me and spread a bunch of rumors about me being an uptight prude.”

“Damn,” he said. “What a bastard.”

And then his eyes widened as realization seemed to sink in about what he’d said to me weeks earlier about having a stick up my ass. “Oh man, Chloe.”

“It’s okay. Because it’s mostly been true,” I said, admitting to my own faults.

“No. I’m sorry I had the wrong impression,” he said. “And I’m glad we got to know each other and became . . . friends.”

“Me, too,” I said, relief spreading through my chest.

“I know after our time here is done . . . we won’t see very much of each other.” He paused and swallowed. My heart strained painfully. I was desperate to ask him why not, but then I remembered my rule about focusing on college and my career. I was the one who pretended not to be associated with him whenever I saw the women from my mother’s circle, after all.

Besides, if he affected my brain this much only from a kiss, what kind of mess would I be if we tried dating? Not that he was saying he wanted to.

“But if you ever need anything . . . ,” he said, his voice trailing off. “I mean, the way you transformed this space is amazing and I know you have a great career ahead of you.”

“Well, you certainly helped,” I said. “I couldn’t have done it without you. But . . . thank you.”

We were silent for a bit and then I said, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

His cheeks lifted into a small smile. “Truth.”

“Girlfriends?” I asked.

“Not really. My first love from high school pretty much stomped on my heart, and since then, I’ve just been dating here and there,” he said. “But I also have a lot of responsibility on me right now. So I guess I don’t really have the time or energy to dedicate to it.”

And there it was. He had his reasons laid out as well. “Well, I definitely understand that.”

“Have you dated anyone . . . since . . . ?” He stared into my eyes. “I mean, when was the last time you . . . you know, a guy made you feel good?”

“Um . . . not sure.” My breaths sputtered out. “I’ve been with a few guys. But it’s . . . been a while.”

“Fuck.” He squeezed his eyes closed as if painfully trying to restrain himself.

“What . . . what about you?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer. But also to keep him talking, because I was about to become a puddle on the floor from watching him alone. “When’s the last time a girl . . .”

His gaze blazed into mine and then he took a step closer—so close he could’ve reached out and pulled me into his arms, if he’d wanted.

“Made me feel good?” he muttered. “The other night . . . with you.”

“God, Blake . . .” My head rolled back and my breath became fluttery. “What are you saying? We didn’t do anything besides kiss.”

“But I went home knowing how your skin and your lips felt against mine and that . . . almost satisfied my fantasies for the night.”

A whimper burst from my lips. “You’re not the only one.”

His eyes widened and he moved even nearer.

His fingers slipped up my arms, making the hairs stand on end. “Truth or dare, Chloe?”

As we stared each other down, I couldn’t have answered any other way even if I tried.

“Dare,” I whispered. My heart was pounding against my rib cage.

“I . . . dare . . . you . . . to close your eyes.” He paused and waited for me to slide them shut. Then I felt his warm air against my lips. “And just feel.”

I gasped and my lids fluttered open.

“Keep them shut.” His voice was like a command and I responded by slamming my eyes closed.

My body began trembling. I was craving him—craving his touch. My heart was in my throat as I waited to see—to feel—what he was about to do.

Also because it was very difficult for me to give up this amount of control.

“You’re so pretty,” he said as his hands wrapped around the back of my neck and his lips grazed my throat. “Let me make you feel good.”

It was a foreign feeling to have my eyes closed to the surrounding world and just experience someone’s touch. His lips closed around my ear and I felt emboldened and alive, much like that night at the club. As his fingers slinked down my arms to my waist, I pressed my chest against his. My nipples were erect and my breasts felt dense and full.

As if he’d taken the hint, his thumbs brushed across my buds and I sighed in relief.

His fingers traveled beneath my shirt to my bare skin. “Do you like when I touch you here?”

“Yes,” I said. “Please.”

He groaned, and just as his hands fully cupped my breasts, his mouth captured mine in a bruising kiss. His tongue slashed past my lips as his finger moved across my back to unhook my bra.

“So sexy.” In one swift motion he lifted off my shirt and then tugged off my bra. I stood before him naked from the waist up. “God, Chloe . . . you look amazing.”

I kept my eyes clenched tight. It was easier that way. If I opened them, I might’ve chickened out.

His mouth kissed and licked down my throat to my collarbone. “Can I keep touching you?”

I nodded and then suddenly had a moment of unnerving uncertainty. The last measure of my control crumbling. “Can anybody see us?”

“The windows are covered, remember?” His mouth swiftly moved down and captured one of my nipples—maybe in order to keep my mind off the previous subject. “You’re safe with me.”

My knees nearly buckled from the sensation of his hot mouth on my skin. When he moved to the other side, I moaned and grasped at his hair. I didn’t remember ever being this turned on in my entire life. I ground my hips against him, needing to get closer.

“Ah hell,” he blurted out, and then slowly backed me against the wall. The brick felt cool against my fiery skin. All I could hear was the distant sound of the traffic buzzing by on the street and his heavy breaths at my neck. I felt secluded, protected, and unbelievably stimulated.

As his hand hovered on the button of my jeans, his lips found my ear. “Can I touch you everywhere?”

I was momentarily petrified, my knees quivering, but that gave way to my blazing arousal. All I could do was nod—my body was so bombarded by sensation.

I whimpered as he unzipped my jeans and then his hand slipped down the front of my underwear. I was so completely wet and nearly mortified that he’d soon discover that.

“Oh damn,” he grunted out in a tortured voice. “You’re so turned on, aren’t you?”

“Completely,” I said, letting go of any shame.

He pushed my jeans to my knees and then his fingers nudged inside the edges of my underwear. “Did I do this to you?”

I was shuddering and panting. “Yes.”

He swore as his fingers found my center and the sensation was like being suspended off the edge of a cliff. My heart was thrashing and my pelvis was pulsing and all I wanted was to take that leap of faith. With him.

A low growl emitted from his throat and the sound was so visceral I almost let go right then and there. Almost. But still I hovered over the precipice of my own orgasm, nearly embarrassed by how long it had been and how easily I was giving up control from the simple brush of Blake’s fingers.

“Have you been thinking about me in bed at night—like I’ve been thinking of you?”

I quavered as his fingers continued brushing over my nub and then slipped firmly inside me. “Every . . . single . . . night.”

He groaned and sucked expertly on my nipples. “This moment, right here with you, is my fantasy come true.”

“Oh God . . . Blake.” There was an upsurge deep in my belly, like sparks sending a heated footpath up and down my legs and then biting at my center.

All it took was another swipe of his thumb for me to fully and completely detonate. He grasped on to my waist as I shook and mumbled and kept my eyelids firmly shut.

Blake kissed my neck and ear and lips as I became more fully aware of myself and my surroundings. With my lids still closed, mortification began to bear down. I was basically naked, up against a wall with Blake—in my employer’s place of business.

“Open your eyes,” Blake whispered against my lips.

I did so, reluctantly. I found him staring at me in wonder, his eyes bright and clear.

His thumb traced against my throat. “You’re beautiful.”