Page 19 of Fire

He didn’t respond to that or speak the rest of the drive home, but she did notice his smirk was gone, hiding behind a look of contemplation. She didn’t relax her guard, having a feeling that look was just as dangerous for her, if not more so.

They arrived at her apartment complex, and he pulled into a visitor’s spot, got out, and came around to her side to help her out. She knew better than to argue or try to open her door herself—that hadn’t gone over well when they’d arrived at the restaurant and she’d reached for her door handle. With a restraining hand on her knee, he’d said two simple words, “Stay put,” but they’d packed a punch. She’d stayed put and waited for him to open her door.

The silence stretched as they walked to her apartment, but she’d never been more aware of a person beside her. His hand landed on the small of her back as they hit the stairs—the heat of it seeping through the thin silk of her dress—and he didn’t remove it until they reached her door when he asked for her keys.

An awkward moment ensued after he unlocked it. She didn’t want to ask Blake in. The whole purpose of him taking her home was to end their night. But she also didn’t want to blow him off with a clichédI had a nice time, even though she had.

She hated first-date protocol.

He didn’t leave her fretting for long. Grabbing her wrists, he held her hands behind her back, taking a step into her. Her back hit the doorjamb, his body hit her front, and then he was kissing her. Again, no build up, just straight to tongue action. And boy did he know how to use it. Sweeping in full of confidence, he mastered the kiss, stealing her breath, her inhibitions, and, apparently, all her good sense because the first words out of her mouth when his lips lifted from hers were, “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes.” His lips found her jaw, trailing kisses up to her ear.

She sighed, closing her eyes, relieved for a reason she didn’t want to delve into.

“But I’m not going to,” he murmured.

Her eyes flew open, and she tipped her head back. His face was still close, his warm breath ghosting over her still tingling lips.

“If I come in, I’m going to want to stay. And as much as you might want that at the moment, I know ultimately, you’re not ready. When I take you, you’re going to spread willingly for it. Maybe even beg me for it. And when I give it to you, you’re going to experience pleasure like you’ve never imagined.” He moved in closer, so his lips brushed hers as he said, “And then I’m going to give you even more.”

She was too busy panting to reply. Not that she knew what to say to that. Howdidone reply to that?

Yes, please?

He released her wrists and took a step back, pushing her door fully open. “Get in and lock up.”

In a daze, Gwen followed his instructions without protest only realizing after she flipped the deadbolt that she’d never told him goodnight. She’d also forgotten to return the spa package. She leaned her head against the door, closing her eyes.

She was so screwed.

Gwen was already awake when a knock sounded on the front door, but she wasn’t out of bed yet. She grabbed her phone and saw it was only nine. Who could be at their door so early on a Sunday morning? She’d heard Allie come home sometime in the middle of the night, so she knew it wasn’t her knocking because she’d forgotten her key.

She threw back the covers and quickly made her way to the door, not wanting the knocking—which had grown louder on the second round—to wake Allie.

Looking through the peephole, she sucked in a breath.

Blake.

Panicked, she looked down at herself. Yep, still in the skimpy cami with matching shorts she’d changed into before bed the night before. She glanced forlornly over her shoulder toward her bedroom but knew she didn’t have enough time to change before Blake started another round of knocking.

Unlocking the deadbolt and using the door as a shield, she opened it enough to peek her head out.

She wasn’t prepared for the full impact of Blake so early in the morning. He had on a pair of black track pants with white racing stripes down the sides and an Adidas logo at high-thigh level paired with a tight black tee. Black Nikes covered his feet. He made athleisure look good. No, he made it look fan-freakin-tastic.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice hoarse from nonuse.

He lifted his arms to hip level and belatedly—because let’s face it, she hadn’t been looking at his hands—noticed he carried a white paper bag in one and a cardboard drink carrier in the other. “Coffee and breakfast.” After a few seconds of her blinking wordlessly, he chuckled, “You gonna let me in?”

No, she didn’t want to let him in. She was in a thin, silk cami—sans bra—and could feel her nipples were at full attention. But she couldn’t leave him standing in the hall no matter how much she really, really wanted to.

Gwen threw the door wide. “Go ahead to the kitchen, I’m going to change real quick.”

Stepping in, his eyes locked on her. Was there a stronger word for blazing? Because that’s what they were doing, scorching a path down her body. Gwen stood there, immobilized, hand clutching the door.

“Shame.”

“What’s a shame?” She licked her lips, and his eyes, which had stopped and stayed on her breasts, lifted at the action.

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