Page 16 of Fire

“It wasn’t enough. I was an ass. Bad habits are hard to break.”

Gwen raised a brow.

He tilted his head again. “We’ll talk more inside.”

That was a subtle reminder she still needed to unlock the door. She did so, quickly, and they moved inside.

“You can set those on the breakfast bar,” she called out while hanging her purse on the free-standing wooden coatrack and kicking out of her heels. She turned and saw a large stack of mail, two coffee cups, and a pink box with suspicious looking white powder and grease stains littering the counter. “Shit. Hang on, let me clean that off.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll set it on the coffee table.”

He walked farther into the apartment, his stride purposeful yet casual—as at ease as if he owned the place—and she went into action tidying the kitchen.

She and Allie weren’t slobs, but they weren’t the neatest people on the planet either. Not by a long shot. It was always a marathon cleaning session whenever either of their parents came to visit. They tried to keep things picked up when one or both had a boyfriend, but since they were both currently faithful to their vibrators, neither of them had been trying too hard.

Picking up the coffee cups, Gwen set them in the sink then hand dusted the donut crumbs off the counter and threw them in the sink as well. Not much she could do with the large stack of mail, but she did toss the donut box into the refrigerator. Satisfied it was good enough, she went into the living room and found Blake had made himself at home on the couch.

He looked good sitting there, but then, he’d look good anywhere. He was slightly slouched and had one ankle resting on his opposite knee. He wore another suit—black again—and a charcoal gray dress shirt with black pinstripes. In his position, his suit pants hiked up enough to reveal he wore charcoal gray socks—the fashionista in her approved.

She stood, digging her toes into the carpet, feeling awkward in her own living room. But the hostess in her had her asking, “Can I get you anything? I think we have beer in the fridge.”

A small smile tipped his lips as though he were aware of her discomfort and liked it. “I don’t drink.”

Shit. That’s right. “Iced tea? Water?”

“Come sit down.” He tapped the cushion beside him with his index finger.

She stepped over to the couch and sat on its edge, but not sitting where he’d indicated, leaving the cushion space between them.

He shifted his body her direction then cut straight to the chase by reiterating what he’d said in his first note attached to the roses. “I fucked up last night.”

She wasn’t sure what to say, but it didn’t matter because he kept talking.

“One look at you, you screamed class. Should’ve known you weren’t a club bunny.”

Club bunny? She didn’t know there was such a thing. And she was far from class. She should know. She worked for class, forty hours a week barely making above minimum wage. Gwen shook her head, swiping her arm to indicate the room at large. “I’m far from rich.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. You weren’t there looking to hook up, even though you looked sexy as hell. You were there to have fun, unwind, and hang with your friend.”

Well, that was partly true. If Allie hadn’t begged, she wouldn’t have gone at all. Not the first time anyway. And without a first time, there wouldn’t have been an invitation for the second.

“I don’t do relationships, never have.”

That got her attention.

“But I’m going to give it to you straight.”

Holy shit, she didn’t know there was a straighter than he was already being.

“I want you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you.” He sat back as if getting more comfortable, throwing an arm along the back of the couch and placing his opposite hand on the ankle that was crossed at his knee. “So, we’re starting with dinner.”

Her mind was a whirl. Literally. His words circling her brain at such high velocity, she couldn’t focus on any of them.

“So, are you saying, once you wine me, dine me, then fuck me, you’ll be through with me?”

She saw his jaw flex as though he didn’t like the question, but he did answer. “I can’t predict the future. But I do know, with what I feel for you, I’m changing my behavior. I’ve never been willing to do that for anyone.”

Conflict warred within her, and she knew it was because of her reaction to him. Never had she felt pulled to anyone. Even now, just sitting next to Blake, her body hummed, and the urge to move closer—touch him—was almost too much to deny. But she also knew, with the way she felt, if things between them went bad, it would be very bad. With her previous boyfriends, while in the moment, the relationship had been nice, a couple she had even been sad when they were over. But she knew with Blake it would be different. When things ended—and the way he talked, she knew they would—she would be devastated.

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