Page 70 of Fire

She looked back at Jason. He was laughing at his own story, and she joined in even though she had no idea what he’d said.

When he paused to take a breath, she swiftly inserted, “Can you excuse me a moment? I need to use the ladies’ room.”

He looked slightly startled but quickly recovered. “Of course.”

She walked toward the bathrooms but at the last minute veered for the entrance. She spied Blake leaning against the wall, his eyes tracking her every move.

“What are you doing here?” she whisper-hissed as soon as she reached him.

“We’ll talk outside.” He took her elbow and led her out the front door.

As soon as the door closed behind them, shutting out the noise of the restaurant, she pulled her arm from his grasp and took a step away. “Now, tell me what you’re doing here?”

Blake closed the space she’d put between them, and she had to tip her head back to keep him in view. To the average observer, he would appear calm, cool, and collected, but she knew better. She saw the fire burning in his eyes and knew his casual demeanor was all an act.

“The better question is, what are you doing here?”

“Are you serious right now? I’m on a date.”

His calm façade cracked when a frown wrinkled his brow. “With that wanker from work? I don’t want you seeing him.”

Anger welled in her chest, so fierce, she had the urge to strike him, and she’d never been violent in her life. “You don’t have the right to tell me who and who not to date.”

“I know.”

But she wasn’t listening, she was on a roll. “Or whether to date or not to date at all, for that matter.”

“I know.”

“Hell, you don’t have the right to say anything about anything I do.”

He grabbed her upper arms and yelled, “God damn it, I said, I know!”

That stopped her rant in its tracks. And if that hadn’t, the tortured look on his face would have. She’d been so busy being angry, she hadn’t noticed he looked… broken.

His hold on her loosened as he dropped his forehead to hers and whispered gruffly, “I know. And I can’t tell you how much that kills me.”

Her arms came up, and her hands gripped his forearms. “What are you trying to say?”

He was silent for so long, she didn’t think he would reply. Then he took a step back, and her hands fell away. “Nothing.” His features transformed into a blank expression as he looked at her through dead eyes. “This changes nothing.” Then he turned on his heel and stalked to his car, which she belatedly noticed was illegally parked right in front of the restaurant.

It wasn’t until standing on the sidewalk and watching him zoom away—more confused than ever—that she wondered how he’d known where she was. And the only answer that came to mind gave her equal parts thrills and chills.

When she got back to the table, she told Jason she wasn’t feeling well and asked if he could take her home. Guilty about a date gone bad, she offered to pay her share of the meal, but he refused. He really was a nice guy.

The ride back to her place was conducted in silence—Gwen, lost in her thoughts, Jason, she assumed, lost in his. He walked her to the door, but she didn’t offer an invitation to come in, reiterating her false sickness and thanking him for the evening but that she would see him at work on Tuesday.

Alone in the apartment, she went straight to her room, stripped out of her dress and hopped in the shower, all the while, her thoughts still on Blake. His actions were confusing and messed with her head, and she knew if she was ever going to move on, she’d need to put a stop to them.

Just seeing him again had her body amped up. His presence always did that to her. Even as confused as he’d made her tonight, he still affected her. She couldn’t explain why, and she’d never felt it with anyone before. Something in him called to something in her, and if it didn’t make her sound crazy, she’d admit it was almost as though they were soulmates.

She tipped her head back into the warm spray as her finger found her clit. She closed her eyes and envisioned Blake.

His hands gripping her arms and pulling her against him. His scent surrounding her. His breath fanning across her face as he leaned in. His lips would stop a millimeter from hers, and he’d whisper, “I want you,” right before they’d crashed down on hers, devouring her mouth, consuming it like he needed to kiss her more than he needed air to breathe.

She dropped to her ass, feet planted, knees spread wide as her fingers worked faster.

His lips would trail down her neck, stopping to savor the scent and taste of her skin. His hands would cup her breasts, his fingers pinching and rolling her nipples into hard peaks before his mouth would latch onto one, sucking it in deep and flicking it with his tongue.

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