Page 138 of When Fate Breaks
Blake shakes his head, a sad smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re a part of me, Evangeline. You always have been and always will be. You’re etched into my fucking soul. You may as well stay etched into my skin.”
Something clicks. It’s like a piece of the puzzle of my heart that I forgot existed suddenly attaches itself and makes me feel whole once again. My eyes burn, my throat aches, my fingers twitch, and the next thing I know, I’m fisting the front of Blake’s shirt and yanking him forward to me.
Blake reacts instantly, his hands leaving the door frame and moving to wrap around my waist. I give the final tug he needs to be sure, and Blake’s lips crash down on mine, taking control and drawing me in. He spins us away from the door, removing one hand from my waist just long enough to close it, and then I am walking backwards, going anywhere that Blake will guide me.
We are frantic with hunger, lips, tongues, and teeth clashing, releasing a tension that could only be created out of twenty plus years of history. At some point Blake’s dress shirt slides off his shoulders and hits the tile floor, leaving him clad on top in only a tank top, tattoos, and thick bands of muscle. Our hands are everywhere, grabbing and stroking and simply feeling, desperate for any way to draw us closer to one another. The backs of my legs suddenly hit one of the tables and Blake’s body, having nowhere else to go, becomes flush with mine, pressing against me and allowing me to feel every inch of him. Somehow, it’s still not enough. “Blake,” I whimper, barely audible. As if our physical connection has allowed for a mental one, Blake seems to read my mind.
“Closer,” he begs against my mouth.
It only takes half a second of me nodding fervently before Blake acts, gripping me behind the knees and shoving me up onto the table. I let out a yelp of surprise, but my body is two steps ahead of me, my thighs reflexively spreading to allow Blake closer and my legs wrapping around his hips.
Blake pulls back just slightly, breaking the kiss–or whatever you’d call what we’re doing– for the first time. Blake’s lips are as bee-stung and bruised as I’m sure mine are, his eyes wild. He stares at me for just a second, shaking his head as his hand moves to smooth down my hair. “So beautiful,” he says, just before his head dips down and his lips go to my neck.
I let out a gasp, my eyes falling shut as he trails down, pressing hot kisses to every hollow and dip of my neck and collarbone, sending goosebumps prickling across my skin and shivers down my spine. Blake pulls his mouth away, stopping to run his nose along the blue strap of my dress. I feel his fingers digging into my hips, and it sends a rush of heat straight to my core. “This fucking dress,” Blake mutters into my shoulder.
That color was made for you.
The dress is fabulous, isn’t it? Isn’t the color incredible?
Like it was made for her.
Like it was made for me.
The dress.
My eyes slowly open.
The dress I bought for my wedding shower.
Blake begins to kiss his way back up my neck.
My wedding.
“God, Evangeline, I–”
Remy.
I go completely rigid as reality comes crashing back down. The reality of what I’m doing and what it could mean. Blake picks up on my body language immediately, pulling away.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern heavy in his tone. When I don’t respond, he lightly cups my cheek. “Hey, Evangeline? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I shake my head, not able to meet his eyes. “No, I just–”
His posture straightens and he drops his hand from my face. “What?” he asks. But he already knows.
Tears well in my eyes as I slowly look up at him, a mixture of pain and frustration etched into his face. “I can’t,” I whisper.
Blake suddenly lets go of me completely, stepping back abruptly and causing me to slide off the table.
He’s angry. And he has every right, but it’s just not this easy. It can’t be.
“Blake, I–I just–” I sputter.
“Please, don’t,” Blake says calmly, turning away from me to pick his shirt up off the floor and slide it back on.
“But–”
Blake puts one hand up, cutting me off. “Please, Evangeline, spare me. Just this once.”
