Page 65 of Accidentally Amy

“I think I have—”

“She’s out of mayo,” Blake interrupted, his voice firm. “And bread.”

Josh’s face split into a huge grin as his eyes went from Blake to me. “Message received.”

“But—but I have both,” I said, but it was too late. Josh, that jackass, totally betrayed me. He walked around me and out the door without even looking back.

Shit.

I didn’t look at Blake as I closed the door behind Josh, butwhen I turned around, he was there, crowding me against the door.

“Why are you trying to avoid me?” His voice was thick and deep as he looked down at me.

I rubbed my lips together and said, “I’m not—”

“Isabella Shay.” He moved, and before I knew what he was doing, he took the cat from my arms and dropped the Darkling onto the floor.

“Blake Phillips.” I meant to say more, maybe, but my heart started thumping as he stepped a little closer.

I looked up at his hot eyes and felt a little lightheaded when he said, “I’m going to fucking lose my mind if you don’t let me talk to you.”

“So talk,” I said, intending to sound unaffected but failing to pull it off when my voice came out breathy in almost a whisper.

“You’ll find out on Monday that Ellis bought out a company called Everett Holdings in Boston—which is why I was there.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to pay attention, but the close proximity of his body was all I could focus on.

“Ellis reconfigured its org chart afterward, to absorb new employees under the existing leadership umbrella.”

I wasn’t sure why he was talking about work, but I was glad. Maybe focusing on work would help me stop focusing onhimand the way it felt to be so close to him.

“I saw the chart this morning, and HR is no longer in my division.”

“What? Who do we report to now?” I asked. I liked my job, but a new boss could ruin everything. “Someone from Everett or—”

“Not me.”

“Oh, well, that’s specific,” I quipped, wondering how this would affect my job. “You don’t have any idea at all?”

“Izzy.” He set his palms on the door, one on each side of me. “I’m trying to tell you that we can be more than friends. If we want to.”

I gasped. “What?”

His Adam’s apple dipped when he swallowed, and then he said, “I’m fine with staying the way we are, though, so no pressure if that’s what you want.”

He watched me, and God, the look. His jaw flexed and our breaths mingled and the world held still for a second when our eyes locked. We moved together the tiniest bit, a nearly imperceptible sway, as if he were a magnet and I was steel.

My throat felt dry as my eyes traveled over his face. I managed to breathe out, “I, um, I would very much like to explore more than—”

His mouth cut me off, landing hard on mine as he inhaled sharply, like he’d been woken from a dream. He angled his head and went deep, and I forgot what every kiss before this felt like. I couldn’t hear or see or breathe anything but him; he was my center.

His mouth ate at mine, kissing me like he’d been denying himself and was finally indulging, and I raised my hands and set them on his chest. Grasped at his sweatshirt, needing to get closer. To get more.

His palms stayed planted on the door as his body pressed against mine, as he stepped even closer. I could feel the heat ofhim, of that solid, warm body, and I felt hungry. Starved. I fisted his hoodie and bit down on his lower lip, which made him grunt and press closer still.

“That kiss yesterday gutted me,” he said against my lips. “And it’s all I’ve thought about since.”

“I have to confess,” I said, looking up into those dark eyes, “that the dream was actually about you, not Chef Tom.”

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