Page 17 of The Promise
My eyes jump back up to his as I feel embarrassment race to my cheeks. I didn’t want to be quite so transparent with my feelings for him. I wanted him to at least think he had to work at winning me back around, but I think I’ve just fallen at the firsthurdle.
He holds my stare for a few seconds but I look away. It’s too intense and is making me want to do things I know I need to hold offon.
Blake clears his throat before answering my original question. “I didn’t want to share you.” I can’t help but look at him. The pain in his voice as he says it tugs at my heart. “I’ve missed you, Addison. I wasn’t going to let anyone else have a piece of youtonight.”
I swallow and look away again. This is toomuch.
I watch as he lifts a casserole dish from one of the bags before placing it on the hob and turning it on. I presume that must be the starter, because he then pulls out potatoes, steak, and some veggies, followed by another bottle of wine—red, this time. I think the plan for tonight may have been to get medrunk.
“What’re you smiling about?” heasks.
“Nothing. What’s in thepot?”
“Soup. Sinead made it forus.”
“How is she?” I ask, thinking about the last time I sawher.
“She’s mad at me because she missesyou.”
Is there going to be any point tonight where I’m not going to feel the need to breakdown?
“I miss her, too,” Iadmit.
“And me?” Blake askshopefully.
“Meh,” I mutter with a shrug of my shoulders. He knows I’mlying.
We chat about his company and the bakery while Blake peels and chops the potatoes and preps the veg. Once the chips are in the oven, he ladles a couple of spoonfuls of soup and brings themover.
“It smells delicious,” I say, leaning over thebowl.
“I didn’t get bread. I thought it would be toocarby.”
“Probably,” I say, although I really don’t need to be worrying about that for the next fewmonths.
“How do you want your steak cooked?” Blake asks as he gets up to start on our maincourse.
An article I read in the bloody pregnancy magazine pops into my head. “Well,please.”
“Really? I’d have had out down for a medium-rare kind ofgirl.”
I really want to screamyes, that’s how I want it, but I can’t. Instead, I just shake my head and have a sip of my watered down wine—what awaste.
I continue watching Blake as he moves around my kitchen with ease—I guess he’s the one who stocked it so there’s no reason he shouldn’t look like he’s at home right now—and I don’t think I’ve seen anything sexier. His fitted white shirt is tucked into his dark jeans, showing off his slim waist. His sleeves are rolled up past the elbows, giving me a show of his muscles every time hemoves.
He throws the first steak into the pan and I realise I have no interest in eating what he’s preparing because I just want him. I squeeze my thighs together as my clit starts tothrob.
I blink and he’s right in front of me. I run my eyes from his stomach up until my head’s tipped right back and I’m looking in his eyes. “Everything okay?” he asks, amusement dancing in hiseyes.
“Yes.”
“You weresquirming.”
“Numb bum,” Ilie.
“I think we both know that’s not true. I can read your body, Addison, remember?” I swallow and he watches the movement in my neck. “I can tell when you’re turned on. Your eyes get greener, your cheeks flush,” he says, running his fingertips over them, “and your breasts swell, begging for attention.” He continues running his fingers down my neck and over my breasts. He’s just about to pull the fabric to the side when I jump up and back away fromhim.
“No,” I whisper, but there’s no strength behindit.
