Page 40 of Fire

“Nice place.” That was an understatement. Everything was chrome and glass with the exception of the three-piece sectional couch—black leather—and the wall-to-wall thick, cream carpeting. There weren’t even coverings over the tinted picture windows that lined the walls. The place was cold, bare, and lacked any trace of character. Hell, even his fuck-pad at the club had more personality.

“I need to make a quick phone call. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

“Sure.”

“Feel free to look around.”

He hesitated until she gave him a confirming nod then disappeared down a hall. She slipped her sneakers off, and her sock-covered feet hit the cold marble until they sank into the high-piled carpeting. She started with the kitchen and made her way through the lower level. The place was massive—dining room, living room, his home gym.

All the rooms she encountered had the same decorating scheme—chrome, glass, and more chrome and glass so bright and shiny, it almost hurt the eyes—until she went upstairs and found his bedroom. That room was all dark and such a contrast to the rest of the place it took her by surprise. Again, the windows were tinted but these were completely blacked out. She found a dimmer switch on the wall and turned it until a light overhead came to life. She stopped it halfway, giving the room a soft glow.

His bedroom was bigger than her whole apartment and contained a sleeping area, a sunken living space, large bathroom, and huge walk-in closet. She took a moment to assess his clothing and, yes, every garmentwasblack or so dark it nearly was.

All the furniture was dark wood, the comforter on the bed—black. The bathroom fixtures were a dark bronze, the marble tile—more black. She was literally in awe that in his whole apartment there wasn’t one splash of color.

“I was hoping I’d find you here.”

She looked over her shoulder. Blake stood in the doorway, shoulder leaning against the jamb.

“This place is…” She fluttered her hand, not sure how to describe it.

Blake chuckled, pushing off the jamb and coming straight for her. “Homey?”

She smiled.

“Warm? Colorful? Has a zest for life?” His grin was infectious, and she laughed, glad to see his good mood restored.

“I was going to say clean.”

The smirk he threw her had her stomach dipping. “I can’t take credit for that. I have someone who comes once a week to clean.”

“But you’re taking credit for this?” She waved her hand, indicating the room at large.

He eyed her, smirk still in place. “I wanted everything to match.”

She took another look around. “Why is this room so different?”

He hiked a shoulder. “I didn’t want it to feel sterile.”

His choice of dark wood made sense. Itwaswarmer than the chrome.

“Any more questions?” He raised a brow, the predator in him making an appearance as he closed the remaining distance between them.

“Why do I get the feeling if I say yes, that’s the wrong answer?”

He smiled and coming at her from behind, grabbed her waist and shuffled them forward until the front of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. His head appeared at the side of hers, and he rested his chin on her shoulder, staring down at the bed. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought of you here?”

He’d said something similar to that the night before while they’d been dancing—that he envisioned her sprawled on his bed. She tipped her head, resting it against his shoulder.

His hand moved from her waist to sneak under the hem of her shirt. “So many times, I’ve lost count.”

His fingertips trailed up, skimming along her stomach until his hand found her breast, cupping it over her bra. “The things I’ve envisioned doing to you.” His other hand moved to the waist of her jeans, his nimble fingers unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper before they slipped under the waistband of her panties.

Eyes closed, she relaxed farther into him. “Like what?”

“Like tying you to my bed and having you completely at my mercy.”

Her eyes snapped open, her head moving to see his profile. “That’s something you’d want to do?”

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