Page 62 of Blindside Love

“Fine. You’re no fun. But I like to see that you’re admitting your feelings already. You’ve wasted enough time on idiots, plus he’s way hotter than Tom. And have you seen the way that man looks at you? It’s like you hung the moon just for him, and I can only imagine the dirty things he wants to do to you… or maybe already has done.”

“Betty!” I shriek, avoiding telling her about just how dirty he can be, but my cheeks blush, giving myself away.

“Hopefully, he spanks the boringness out of you. You used to be so fun.” Betty winks before heading back out to where Trevor is.

I should probably be nervous that the two of them are out there conspiring together, but all I can think about is that she’s right. Trevor has helped me have more fun lately, and he’s definitely hotter than Tom. But the way he’s looked at me? Have I noticed that? I mean, his eyes are always on me when we’re together, and it’s usually very obvious what he’s thinking about. Still, I was hoping I was the only one who could read into his facial expressions like that, but apparently not.

Grabbing the brushes I came for, I shut the cabinet holding all our extra supplies as quietly as possible. When I peek out to the front of the studio, I see Betty showing Trevor one of her favorite pieces, and he’s completely enthralled by what she’s showing him. It’s one of my favorite things about Trevor; it doesn’t matter who you are, he gives you his complete attention. He makes everyone he talks to feel special and important, like he has all the time in the world.

For being such a busy man, it’s incredible that he’s this way.

I’m immediately caught when Trevor looks behind him, smiling when he sees me spying on them.

“Whatcha got there, kitten?” he asks.

I feel my face blush even more at his use of my nickname. Betty immediately smiles brightly, like she loves what she sees.

I’ve gotta get us out of here before she starts talking about weddings and babies and all that stuff that will immediately scare him off… and probably me too.

“Didn’t you say we had a reservation? We should probably start heading that way if we don’t want to be late,” I say as I walk over to the two of them.

“Yeah, you kids go have fun. Get out there and celebrate this one’s birthday. She deserves it,” Betty says as she pulls me in for a hug. “Love you, sweetie. Now go enjoy the rest of your evening. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“It was nice to meet you, Betty. Thank you for taking the time to show me around your studio. It’s incredible. And thank you for the advice.” Trevor winks before placing his hand on my lower back as we walk out into the night.

I can feel Betty watch us as we leave, but I’m too lost in the way his hand feels on my lower back, protective, caring, and fuck what I wouldn’t do to have that hand in other places on my body.

Specifically, the part between my legs that I made sure was readily available in this dress.

But this touch is different. It feels like it’s the start of something new. Somehow, it’s both tentative and assertive, and I’m here for it. We’ve never shied away from little touches here and there; it’s kind of just become who we are, even when we’ve been doing our best to maintain the façade that we’re just friends.

As we step out onto the street, I feel the tension between us start bubbling. I taste it in the air and feel like I can’t breathe. All I can think about is his hand still on me, cloaking me in his heat.

I don’t know how much time passes, but we’ve walked three blocks, and I can see the bar at the corner of the next street. It’s a nice part of town. There are usually lots of people out, but tonight it’s quieter, more intimate, only adding to the vibe.

I can hear the music playing from the bars lining the streets, the beat strong, vibrating through the air, the touch on my skin only amping me up even further. It’s when his hand goes from my back into my own, gripping tightly, that I finally feel like my body can’t handle it anymore. Something needs to give because I can’t survive this. I’m only human, and fuck, I want him. No, it’s more than that. I need him, crave him, fucking desire him.

And apparently, he feels the same.

The next thing I know, I’m being slammed against the cold brick wall, hard enough that I feel my breath hitch but not hard enough to hurt. Not that I’d care anyways, as his lips slam into mine, taking immediate control of my mouth, one hand gripping my throat as he pins me in place.

His lips dance with my own, his tongue exploring, tasting me, owning me, and I follow along like he’s the leader and I’m his perfect, obedient follower.

And with hands gripping my hip, tightening against my throat as his mouth is on mine, I know I’m exactly where I want to be.

Pulling back, his eyes are hooded as they stare at me. “I couldn’t… I don’t know. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” I say, slightly taken aback. He just kissed me so passionately that I almost imagined we were naked, and he’s sorry?

“I told you that I respected us being just friends… I shouldn’t have?—”

“Shut up and kiss me, Adams,” I growl, pulling him back down to me. He snaps, his hand tightening against my throat and his teeth nibbling my ear.

“Say it then.”

“Say what?”

“That we aren’t friends. At least not just friends.”

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