Chapter Eleven
Blake
“It seems like a different night than when you rescued me.”
“Yeah.” I pulled the keys out of my front pocket as Izzy walked me to my car. The party had just broken up after a very painful-looking battle of rock, paper, scissors, and the residential street was incredibly quiet. “It’s been a surreal few hours.”
“I warned you,” she said with a laugh, and I just looked straight ahead, didn’t look at her whatsoever. I couldn’t. Because what I’d learned while playing the world’s most ridiculous game was that the way she wrinkled her nose when she laughed made me… distracted. I’d found myself staring, watching her, just waiting for the charming little crinkle.
Like a fucking idiot.
“Yes, you did,” I agreed. “I have no regrets, but now that I know, I appreciate what you tried to do.”
I cleared my throat and stopped beside my car.
“Listen. Blake.” She set her hand on my arm, a wordless request for eye contact. I looked at her— damn, she is short— and she grinned in a way that made me want to tousle her hair. “Thank you for saving me from the storm. You have no idea how badly I was freaking out before you arrived.”
“No problem,” I said, my eyes getting caught on the bow of her upper lip.
“It’s probably my buzz talking,” she said, and I felt a rush of satisfaction when her nose crinkled. “But even after cracking my head open, I had a great time tonight.”
“I didn’t mean to, but same.”
“I know everything with us is all tied up in work restrictions—and that’s fine,” she said. “But since we’re both a little tipsy, there’s something I want to say.”
I wasn’t the slightest bit tipsy. At all. I’d had one beer at her apartment while she showered, and that was it, but I also wasn’t about to correct her when I was dying to hear what she had to say. “Okay.”
Was her upper lip different than everyone else’s upper lip? What was it about that tiny little valley that made me marginally obsessed? I couldn’t keep my eyes off it.
“I absolutely know that we cannot, um, have any sort of romantic relationship.” Her mouth fell a little open and she blinked fast, awkwardly adding, “I mean, not relationship, I don’t mean relationship, like I want a relationship, I just mean—”
“I get it.”
She sighed and nodded. Popped a nervous little grin and said, “So I guess I just wanted to tell you that, um, I think we should behave as if tonight never happened, like we never hung out outside of work.”
“Agreed,” I said, my nose finding her soft, soapy scent among the smell of the rain.
“You were just being a Good Samaritan.” She took a step closer, close enough that I could see by the glow of the streetlight the tiniest freckle on the bridge of her nose. Her voice was soft and breathy when she said, “But if this night never happened, would it be that bad to maybe, just once, see what it would’ve been like to—”
“Are you suggesting we kiss?” I couldn’t believe how calm I sounded when I was actually torn between screaming, Fuck yes holy shit , and I gotta go.
She gnawed on her bottom lip and nodded.
It was a terrible idea. It was a terrible idea and I needed to shut it all down. But I looked at her upturned face, her blue eyes that were a little heavy-lidded, and I said, “Fuck. Yes. Holy shit.”
Izzy
His mouth was just as confident and sure as every other thing about him. His big hands cradled my face, and his teeth nipped at my bottom lip before he angled his head and went deep.
As he opened his mouth wide over mine, his tongue slid inside, and I raised my hands to his chest, flexing my fingers against his pecs. He made a growling sound that I could feel under my palms as he fed me unbridled kisses, the kind that felt more like he was trying to consume me than kiss me, which I was SO there for. Our breathing was loud and labored, and I wanted every little thing his mouth was giving me.
Dear God , we were on fire.
His hands moved down to my waist and he pulled me closer, leaving me no choice but to fall into it. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he nipped at my lip again, sending a shiver down my spine, and I heard myself make a noise when he traced my upper lip with his tongue.
More. I just wanted more as his mouth moved over mine as if we were alone, in the dark, all stretched out on a bed. His kiss was all sex—really good sex—and I curled my fingernails into the back of his neck as I pressed my body into his, into his hard wall of a chest.
My knees almost buckled when his hands slid down to the curve of my ass and pulled me flush against him.
Holy shit.
“Damn it,” he said, lifting his head just enough to give me a white-hot look. He looked like a fantasy villain, all dark eyes and crackling intensity, and I wanted to inhale every bit of that darkness. “Why the hell is it so good with us?”
“No idea,” I breathed, not wanting to stop for conversation or a freight train bearing down on us or even a world war. All I wanted was Blake Phillips all over me.
But my eyes caught his tortured gaze again, and I realized I was an idiot. Nothing good could come from dipping my toes in the pool of how good we might’ve been. It would only take another minute of mouth sex and we’d be back in my apartment; I could totally feel that. And even if the night was fire— and yes, it SO will be because holy shit if he can do push-ups with me on his back what else can he do dear Lord—it would only delay the inevitable.
Blake Phillips had principles, and they were way more important to him than chemistry.
I inhaled a shaky breath, dropped my hands to my sides, stepped out of his embrace, and said, “Okay. Well. Now we know, right?”
His expression changed, going from intense to confused, and then he swallowed. Gave a nod of agreement as he put his hands in his front pockets. His voice was gravelly when he said, “Yes, we do.”
“Thanks again for the ride, and I swear this night never happened.”
“Um, you’re welcome,” he said, his face unreadable. “Yeah.”
I turned and went back into the building, not daring to glance at him over my shoulder. I felt ridiculously, foolishly emotional, and I just wanted to climb into bed and fall asleep for the whole weekend. I locked the door and disposed of the pizza box, and I’d just climbed into bed and turned off the light when I got a text notification.
I fumbled for my glasses before grabbing the phone from the nightstand. I read it in the dark, then read it again.
Mr. Chest: I had the WEIRDEST evening, Scooter’s Amy. Do you have time for a bonkers story, or are you busy?
I sat up in bed and texted, First of all, don’t be an idiot—I ALWAYS have time for bonkers stories. Second of all, does this mean we can be friends, even though our counterparts have decided to go their separate ways?
Three seconds later, my phone started ringing. Blake was calling, and I didn’t know if I should answer or not.