Page 94 of Attached At Heart
“Delaney.” He breathed my name again, like it was the only word he had in his mind.
“I know,” I panted, feeling my heart rate spike as one of his hands began to wander. “I know, Blake.”
I felt him shake his head. “I don’t think you do.”
“We’re almost there,” I assured him.
In other words, alone. We were almostalone.
What would happen once we were alone?
I’d never thought twice about being alone with Blake before.
It hadn’t been something I’d needed to think twice about.
But now, it wasallI could think about.
Getting Blake alone and doing, well, I didn’t know what, butsomething. Something to ease the overwhelming ache pulsing in my body, the throbbing between my legs. Something that let me experience more of the Blake I had in that club. Something that gave me the chance tofeelhim again. Feel him more than I did right now, even though he was all over me, all around me. But it wasn’t enough. Not even close to being enough.God, did I want more.
“Lane,” he rasped in my ear. “What I wouldn’t give to know what you’re thinking right now.”
I cleared my throat. “Nothing. I’m thinking about…nothing.”
“Don’t lie, sweetheart.” He dropped his voice, ensuring no one would hear him except me. “I can feel the way your pussy is pulsing for me, you know that, right?”
I gasped at the revelation of his words, and the throbbing—that he could apparently feel—only intensified. Meanwhile, Blake’s soft chuckle tickled my nerve endings.
“We’re almost there,” he soothed, echoing my words from earlier.
Luckily, he was right. Another five minutes on the train, and we were squeezing through the crowds to hop off. Just like the first time we’d arrived at this station after our flight, Blake had an Uber waiting for us.
This time, the car ride to the rental house stayed silent, filled only with a heavy, nearly unbearable tension. It stretched between us in the back seat despite Blake keeping his eyes firmly out the window the entire ride. His touch, on the other hand, strayed, finding my leg…and then the hem of my dress. He slid his fingers beneath the fabric to palm my inner thigh, squeezing lightly. His thumb traced semicircles, trailing so close to the edge of my underwear that I had to grab onto the door handle and hold my breath.
While I couldn’t see his expression, I could practicallyfeelBlake’s satisfaction with my response to his touch. To his teasing.
He was right. We’d always teased each other, always played this game. I just hadn’t seen it for what it was: flirting. And now, seduction. Had he known? Had I been the only one in denial this whole time?
I didn’t really care at the moment; all I cared about was appreciating it for what it was in the present. Because it wasdefinitely something. And I refused to leave this trip without experiencing whatever I’d previewed in the club. Who knew what would happen when we got back to Boston, when we returned to a life that felt more real and not make-believe. All I knew was tonight and the time I had until we touched back down at Logan International.
Neither of us could seem to stumble out of the car fast enough. When we made it to the house, Blake unlocked the door and threw it open, and I dashed inside. I walked a few paces into the living room before turning to find Blake hot on my heels, watching me with an animalistic hunger that took my breath away.
But as soon as I stopped, he stopped, too. His chest rose and fell in quick successions. His gaze trailed over me, lingering in a way that made me instinctively raise a hand to my face, wiping under my eyes and the mascara that had probably smudged, and my hair, making sure it wasn’t in disarray.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Delaney,” Blake cut in, looking almost pained to say it. “Your hair is perfect, your face is perfect, everything about you is so goddamn perfect. It’s infuriating.”
“Infuriating?”
“Yes, because I—” He clamped down on his words, pressing his lips together and raking a hand through his hair. “When you first walked out wearing that dress at our apartment, you thought I didn’t like it. But I was just too busy trying not to undress you in my mind to be able to form a single coherent thought.”
I stared, shocked by his admission, struggling to wrap my head around the reality of that moment. And once I got my shit together, I swallowed past the emotion in my throat and raised a brow. “Were you successful?”
“What?”
“Were you successful when youtriednot to undress me in your mind.”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “My respect for you as my friend runs so fucking deep, Lane.”
My heart pounded so loud I wondered if he could hear it. Blake meant the world to me. I’d realized the extent of that when he’d left me behind in Minnesota a few months ago, making me wonder when our friendship had run so deep that it left such a gaping hole in my chest when he was gone.
