Page 46 of Fire

He leaned in, setting her on the seat and clicked her seatbelt. “’Kay.”

Eyes closed, she listened to the sounds of him getting in the car and starting it.

Her night at Fire had been a success this time around. She’d spent her time with Allie when Blake hadn’t claimed her for a few dances and a fast fuck against the wall in his office. The same office that, sometime around one in the morning, she’d crawled onto the couch after politely—insert snort—refusing the use of the bed in his fuck-pad and promptly fell asleep.

“How long was I asleep for?”

“Couple hours.”

She felt the subtle movement of the car, and she must have dozed because the next thing she knew, her car door was opened and arms were reaching in, scooping her up. “I can walk.”

A chuckle vibrated along her side where it rested against Blake’s chest. “You can’t even keep your eyes open.”

She cracked one eye to prove him wrong. They were in his elevator. “I thought you were taking me home.”

“I am.”

“I thought you meant my home.”

His head was tipped down to hers, and though her vision was still a little hazy, it was hard not to see the heat darkening his eyes. “You thought wrong. I didn’t get nearly enough time with you tonight.”

She couldn’t argue with that so instead snuggled deeper into his chest.

He carried her to his room and placed her on the bed.

Her overnight bag landing beside her. “I forgot you still had that.”

“Get changed and climb back in bed. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

A few minutes turned into many, and back in bed, snuggled under the warm covers, she didn’t last long before she fell back to sleep.

Rolling over in bed, Gwen opened her eyes to see the space beside her was empty. The pillow was indented, so she knew Blake had come to bed at some point. Getting up, she hit the bathroom before going to look for him. All was quiet as she headed downstairs until she got past the kitchen where she heard clanging. Continuing in the direction of the sound, she stopped when she reached the open doorway of Blake’s home gym.

Straddling a flat bench with his back to her, Gwen watched the play of his muscles under his tight, black tee and along his arms as he pulled down on a bar. Weights clacked with each repetition as they dropped, smacking against each other.

So focused on the rippling movements of his body, it took her a minute to notice the mirror Blake sat in front of, but when she did, their eyes collided.

He slowly released the bar, setting the weights down gently, so they barely made a sound and scooted back on the bench, creating a larger space in front of him, never removing his eyes from hers in the mirror.

“Come here.”

She’d like to say she hesitated, gave his command some deep thought, but she didn’t. Her feet were moving before she could even put thought to action. She did have the presence of mind to stop out of his reach. Or so she thought. With a far lean and an extended arm, he was able to grasp her wrist and pull her the remaining distance to him, tugging her down to the spot in front of him, with her straddling the bench facing the mirror. His arm banded her waist, pulling her back until her ass was flush against him.

Their eyes clashed again, and she saw his head dip before his lips brushed her ear. “I like this.” His thumb swiped the bottom of her breast, once, twice before moving up to the collar of the tank she wore and pulling down the material, exposing one breast. “Stretchy.” His gruff whisper filled her ear as his thumb grazed her nipple.

She tipped her head back against his shoulder, closing her eyes. She felt his other hand move between her legs and rub her through the thin fabric of her shorts and panties.

“Open your eyes and watch.”

She did, slowly pulling her lids open. Her eyes zeroed in on the hand working her. His strokes slow and even. Her panties grew damp while she watched the seductive slide of his finger.

Suddenly, she lost both his hands as he moved them to the straps of her tank, pulling them over her shoulders and down the length of her arms to her wrists, trapping her arms at her sides. “Don’t move them.”

She tested her restraints. The mostly Lycra material was extremely giving, and she could easily break free, but she didn’t. She stayed as she was told, gripping his thighs with her hands.

His hands moved to her waist. “Put your legs up in front of you on the bench.”

Once in position, he maneuvered her shorts and panties under her ass—she helped, using her hands on his thighs to lift herself—and down her legs, tossing the garments to the floor.

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