Page 10 of Uncharted Desires
Half an hour later, I’m bored out of my mind, leaning against the wall, my legs restless.
Blake hasn’t returned, nor did I see him leave.
I run a quick mental debate before concluding—might as well find out what he’s up to. For entertainment purposes.
I walk up to Jesse. “Gonna go take a break. You’ll be alright?”
He smirks, swiping his gaze across the almost-empty bar before looking back at me. “I think I’ll manage.”
I make my way to the main room and into the hallway Blake disappeared in, the same one I walked him through last week. I pass a few doors on my way but keep walking. Of course, I have no way of knowing where he went, but something tells me I might just have an idea.
A few rooms later, I find him right where I expect him—in the space that witnessed our bizarre encounter, my embarrassing reaction, and, presumably, Blake’s newfound curiosity.
I stay near the entrance, slide my hands in my pockets and observe.
Blake stands on the opposite side of the room, shoulder leaning on the wall, cheeks red, and eyes focused on the action in front of him.
Gay couple, of course.
The corner of my mouth curls up. He’s so deep in denial he can’t see straight anymore. Pun intended.
The guys on the sofa are performing some BDSM-lite extravaganza, attracting a decent crowd, and I have a hard time watching Blake, people coming and going, obstructing my view time and time again.
His chest rises and falls visibly, and his hair is tousled like he’s been repeatedly running his fingers through it.
The back of a head attached to a tall, lanky guy comes into my view, getting smaller and smaller as he walks until he stops next to Blake.
I straighten.
Blake’s body jerks once he notices him.
The guy’s mouth moves like he’s saying something, and after that, Blake shakes his head.
Lanky boy takes a few steps back, raising his palms in a placating gesture before he walks away and disappears into the crowd.
I relax against the wall again.
Blake’s eyes dart in the direction where the man disappeared a couple of times before he too relaxes and focuses back on the guys giving a show.
He sucks in his bottom lip and scratches his arm, his body restless.
I step on my toes, peer above people’s heads and shoulders, and notice a bulge in the front of Blake’s pants.
I chuckle inwardly. Yeah. Definitely not interested.
Now that I know what he’s up to, it would be a good time to leave. It would be a smart thing to do. So obviously, I don’t.
Instead, I push off the wall and shoulder my way through the crowded space until I stand a few inches behind Blake.
He doesn’t notice me initially, his attention focused on the occupants of the sofa. I nudge him with my elbow, and he jumps, his head jerking back. Once his eyes land on me, his shoulders slump, and he slouches against the wall. “It's just you,” he says, relief in his voice.
“Who did you expect?”
He doesn’t answer, his head turning toward the guy that approached him earlier for a split second, and I can’t shake the feeling that it’s very telling. I just don’t know what it says yet.
I step forward so that I’m just an inch away from Blake. He flinches.
What am I doing? I’m not sure. It’s not like I’m ever getting anything from him—not that I’m dying to, anyway—but there’s this strong urge within me to fuck with him, one way or another.
