Page 21 of Trusting Blake
From the collective sing-along in the truck, to transforming my hair at the mall, to dancing all afternoon at Honky Tonk Central, to eating dinner on an outdoor patio under the dipping sun at a barbecue joint. Today has been exactly what I needed to feel sane again. And now, returning home, I am too happy to care about the consequences that await me on the other side of these walls.
“Good,” Blake says. “I’m glad you had fun.”
I place my hand over his and maintain eye contact with him. “Thanks to you,” I tell him, then laugh. “But you can’t keep me here all night. I can’t open the door, genius.”
“Climb over.”
“What?”
Blake smirks and flips our hands over, interlocking his fingers tightly around mine. “Climb over, Mila.”
It gets very, very quiet in the truck all of a sudden. Bailey’s soft snores fade away and I can no longer hear the beat of a country song. My breathing intensifying, I release my seatbelt and carefully move my body over the center console, over Blake.
He clasps my hips and pulls me up hard against him, and I gasp.
My body is wedged between the steering wheel and Blake’s chest, straddling him. He angles his jaw up toward mine and the scent of spearmint lingers between us. Our mouths are so close, barely inches apart. Am I breathing? I don’t think so. No, seriously, I’m definitely not breathing.
“I didn’t say it earlier,” Blake murmurs in a husky tone as his dark eyes travel down my body and back up, “but you looksodamn hot.” He runs his hand from my hip up to my hair, tucking a section behind my ear.
“You like the pink?” I ask, my voice a squeak.
“I like you.”
And then our lips clash like an exploding firework, all magical and deafening, all bright colors and pretty skies. That’s how kissing Blake makes me feel. I cup his jaw in my hands and lean into him, my skin tingling where his fingers grip the curve of my hip harder. It is the perfect end to a day that I desperately needed, my mouth against Blake’s. Desire pumps through my veins at the feeling of my body this closely pressed to his, and it feels so sexy, straddling him like this when we are completely alone out here. Nothing but a sprawling, overgrown field and a dark sky above us with specks of stars, and that soft tinkle of a perfect country song.
Breathing hard, we pull apart. I keep Blake’s face steady between my hands as I gaze into his eyes, and the dimples in his cheeks pop like never before when he smiles at me.
“I have to go,” I whisper, but leaving this truck is the last thing I want to do right now. I want to stay here with Blake all night and forget about everything that awaits me at the Harding Estate.
Blake presses his forehead to mine, nodding against me.
We both know that I have to go. I kiss him lightly again, stroke my fingers over his brows, then quickly destroy the intimacy of the moment as I attempt to scramble off him. It’s not exactly attractive, the way I struggle to kick open the truck door and haul myself over Blake, but his soft, breathy laughs only make me laugh too. Even Bailey lifts his head from the backseat, curious to see what the ruckus is.
“Bye, Bailey,” I say, giving him a little wave. “Goodnight, Blake.”
I turn away from the door and move to the rear of the truck, preparing myself for scaling the wall.
“Mila,” Blake whispers. I glance back and find that he’s stepped out of the truck too, one arm resting over the open door with the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen him wear. “How would you feel about maybe officially being my girlfriend?”
I do a double-take – I had so not expected this. “Your girlfriend?”
“Yeah,” he says, then looks down at the ground as he kicks at the dirt. “You think I’m good enough to date Everett Harding’s daughter?”
“You thinkI’mgood enough to date the Mayor of Nashville’s son?” I fire back teasingly.
“I think,” Blake murmurs, meeting my gaze, “that Mila Harding and Blake Avery are good for each other.”
There’s no point eventryingto hide it – the beaming grin that takes over my face, my cheeks stretched wide, and the fizz of electricity that radiates all through my body. My feet begin moving and I run back to Blake, leaping into his arms and wrapping my legs around him.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
Blake stumbles, knocked a little off balance by the impact of me throwing myself at him. He steadies us and locks his arms around me, fitting his hands around my butt. “Yes,what?”
“Yes, of course I’ll be your girlfriend!”
And now I’m the bold one, high on giddy excitement, landing a thousand kisses on every inch of his gorgeous face. I think I even plant a kiss on hisactualeyeball, but I don’t care, and neither does he by the hearty sound of his smothered laughter.
Mila Harding has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who plays acousticguitar and sings country songs. A boyfriend who takes herdancing at honky tonks. A boyfriend who rescues her inhis truck from her family ranch. Mila Harding has aboyfriend and that boyfriend is the unbelievably gorgeous Blake Avery.
