Page 67 of A Kiss at Midnight

“Believe me when I say that our sex life is no hardship on her,” I smugly tell him.

“You’re demanding marriage, Blake. Great sex will fade, then you’ll find yourself living with a woman who resents you.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve been with a lot of women, and I’ve never had a connection like the one I share with Jewel. She knows this too — she’s just fighting her feelings.”

“Do you honestly believe the shit you’re spouting?” Tyler asks.

“I believe we’re meant to be together.” I might not want to open up my chest and wear my confounded emotions on my sleeves, but I do want to show Tyler I’m not trying to hurt Jewel, and I do feel something, even if I’m unsure of exactly what that is. In fact, I’m trying to help her.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “I’ll be watching you, Blake.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I say. I stand and Tyler rises as well.

“Don’t screw this up,” Tyler says.

“We’ve always trusted each other, Tyler. Don’t lose faith in me.” I lean in and give my brother a hug. I don’t often show vulnerability, but I let my guard down just a tad.

Tyler nods, then steps back and looks at me again, making me feel as if I’m beneath a microscope, and then, without another word, he leaves. I sit back down and turn my chair away from my open door.

Closing my eyes, I think about the previous day with Jewel. It was perfect, as usual, but it wasn’t enough, even if we were finally together again, it’s never enough. I constantly want more. With her it willneverbe enough.

I shift in my seat and groan as my body hardens. I can practically smell and taste her on my tongue. Only Jewel has been able to make me hard with only a single thought of her. She isn’t something to let go of.

But what if Jewel really is afraid of me? No, that’s not possible. I’m demanding, sure, and I expect a certain amount of respect from her, but I’m also willing to offer her everything she could ever desire. We have something, and she knows it. She doesn’t fear me — that’s impossible. She simply wants to establish her independence. This will all be fine... won’t it?

Chapter Review

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Jewel

Dammit!”

I look at the blood on my finger, scurry to the kitchen sink, and wash the shallow wound before grabbing a paper towel and wrapping it so I can get to my bathroom without making my apartment look like a crime scene.

My mood’s less than stellar. It’s been three days since Tyler was at my place, three long days and three even longer nights without a single word from him... or Blake. I went to work and haven’t seen any of the Astor men.

Blake said he’d give me a couple of days to think, and those days have come and gone. What in the heck is going on? Did Tyler speak to him? Is he going to back off? Is he giving up?

All it will take to find out is a simple phone call, but as many times as I’ve picked up my phone, I haven’t managed to dial his number. What if the pot’s on a low simmer, and I accidentally set it to boiling?

I made phone calls Monday and Tuesday, but they weren’t to Blake, and they got me nowhere. I feel like I’m on a first-name basis with the court clerks now. The children’s services division hasn’t been any help, and I’m growing more and more desperate.

Maybe Blake’s waiting me out. Tyler must not have been able to help me. The stupidest part about all of this, what I’m most terrified of, besides losing my brother, is falling in love with a man who can never love me back.

When I can’t stand being alone with my own thoughts a single minute longer without flipping out, I grab my coat and head to the elevator. Getting away from phones will keep me from making a call I’m sure to regret. I go to a corner pub not far from my place and don’t hesitate to take up residence on one of the barstools.

“What can I get for you?”

“Something sweet and strong,” I answer.

“Ah, having one ofthosedays, huh?” says the woman behind the bar.

“I’m having one of those weeks... or months... or maybe even years,” I reply as the bartender mixes a drink.

“You know it’s a bad day when drinking starts at two in the afternoon,” the woman replies, not unkindly. “Here ya go, sweetie. The first one’s on the house.”

Strangely, the bartender’s kindness nearly does me in. “Thank you,” I say as I accept the tall, fruity drink and take a long swallow. “Oh, this is exactly what I needed. What’s it called?”

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