Just give in. Give the hell in.
I pull back and fix my mouth to say, “I don’t want to sleep alone,” but he doesn’t give me the chance. He clearly thinks me pulling away means I want to end our kiss, because he says goodnight and walks away.
“I’ll be up late tonight, if you can’t sleep.” He looks over his shoulder.
“More case files?”
“Unfortunately,” he says, and I know that “unfortunately” has a double meaning.
Nine
I wake up alone in Blake’s bed.
From the open windows, I can see that the snowfall has finally slowed to a few occasional flurries. The roads are still buried, but I can see emergency workers pushing mounds of it onto the sidewalks.
As I pull back the sheets, I notice a bright box on the edge of the bed that bears my name and a note: For Tonight.
Confused, I open the box and gasp when I see what’s inside: It’s a haltered silk plum dress and a pair of complementing nude heels.
“You’re a six, right?” Blake steps into the room with two plates of waffles.
“Should I be offended that you’ve been with so many women that you can tell their sizes just by looking?”
“That, or you can be aware of the fact that I saw your jacket’s tag on the plane. Whatever makes you feel better.” He sets the food down. “I ordered it the same day you agreed to stay. The store owner was very surprised and wanted to know more about who you were.”
“Did you tell him the truth?”
“I just told him that I liked you.” He smiles. “Will you go out with me tonight?”
“Out where, Blake?” I point to the window. “Do you not see what’s happening outside your window?”
“Is that a yes?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s an, ‘Are you out of your mind’?”
“I’m serious. Just trust me.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. What time should I be ready?”
“Eight. I’ll even come to your door.”
“How gentleman-like of you. Are you trying to butter me up?”
“I’m trying to do whatever it takes to get into your pants so I can finally fuck you. You’re taking too long to make up your mind.”
WHAT?
I open my mouth to respond, but he kisses me before I get the chance.
“I’m joking,” he whispers. “Don’t look at me like that.” He motions for me to sit on the bed, and then he grabs a book from his drawer.
“Now,” he says, opening it. “Where did I leave off in our reading yesterday?”
“The part where the girl learned how to give the guy a blow job for the first time.”
“Right.” He flips a page. “Did I get to the part where he comes in her mouth yet?”
“Yes.” I stuff a waffle into my mouth.
“No, I didn’t.” He laughs and sits next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s pick up right there, shall we?” He clears his throat and reads. “The tip of his cock tasted salty and sweet. No, it was sweet and salty. Like a burnt M&M.”
“Really though?”
“Yes. Really though. This is one of my all-time favorite books.” He slides his reading glasses over his eyes. “I wasn’t sure what to do next. His cock was so big, and my pussy was so small…”
At seven thirty, I look myself over in the bedroom’s wall-length mirror.
My jet-black hair is falling in loose ringlets over my shoulders, and the plum dress is hugging my small curves perfectly.
I can’t imagine where he’s taking me in this type of weather, and I’m hoping he’s smart enough to know that we shouldn’t be going out at all.
Maybe we’ll just sit in front of his fireplace and drink.
“Paris?” Blake knocks on my door, and I immediately open it.
“You’re wearing a tuxedo?” I try not to stare at him too hard. I swear there’s nothing he doesn’t look good in.
He doesn’t answer my question. He looks me up and down and gently trails his finger against my exposed collarbone. “You look beautiful, Paris.”
“Beautiful? That must be a new—”
He cuts me off with a kiss and pulls me close. Not letting me catch my breath, he whispers, “I’m being serious. You’re stunning.”
I nod, unable to say the words “Thank you,” because he can’t seem to stop kissing me.
When he finally lets me go, he stares at me—looking as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t.
He simply takes my hand and leads me into his private library, and then up a flight of side stairs that I’ve never noticed before.
When we reach the top, he opens a metal door and ushers me inside of what appears to be an indoor garden. The room is enclosed in plated glass; ivies are artfully crawling up the walls, and there are rows and rows of roses and tulips growing in beautiful clear cases.
On the other side of the room is a white-clothed table set for two, and a shiny silver speaker that’s playing soft music.
He walks me over to it and pulls out my chair. “Have a seat.”
After he pushes me closer to the table, he sits across from me. “Do you eat steak?”
I shake my head.
“I thought so.” He motions for me to open the silver covered platter in front of me. “It’s chicken parmesan and pasta salad.”
My mouth waters as I look over the food. “Why didn’t you tell me this room was up here before?”
“It didn’t cross my mind until yesterday.”
“Is this where you normally take your dates when they come over? When the weather is better, do you fuck them against the windows for all of your neighbors to see?”
He says nothing. He just looks at me.
“I was just joking. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Still nothing.
“Blake?” I put my fork down. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I was just—”
“What do I have to do to get you to stay with me for another week?” He cuts me off. “Name it.”
“What?”
“I want you to stay with me for another week. How can I make that happen?”
“Um…” I feel butterflies fluttering in my chest.
He reaches over the table and puts his hand over mine, waiting for a response.
“Why would you want me to stay?”
“You’re the first company I’ve had at my house for this long in years,” he says. “I also happen to like you and your smart-ass mouth, and I want to spend more time with you. I’ll pay for your new flight ticket if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I’m not sure what to say. I would’ve never expected him to say something like this.
I mean, I’ve enjoyed his company as well, and I feel like his playfulness is something that I’ve never experienced with anyone else, but staying? If I agreed to another week, I’d never want to leave, and I’d probably start fantasizing about a relationship that’ll be doomed from the start.
“Why would it be doomed from the start?” he asks.