Chapter Twenty-One
Izzy
“He just pulled up.” I watched through the window as Blake got out of his car and slammed the door. He was wearing jeans and a gray sweatshirt that made his chest look ridiculously wide, and of course, his hair looked like he’d driven all the way over with his windows down. I let go of the blinds I’d been peering through and turned around. “He’s here.”
“Are you surprised?” Josh asked, not looking away from the monitor in front of him. The Darkling was on his lap as he sat in my desk chair, playing some stupid game on my computer because his was glitching. “That he showed up when he said he was going to show up?”
“No, but I don’t—”
Blake knocked on the front door.
“Gah!” I froze and gasped. I whispered, “What do I do?”
“Open the door, numb nuts,” Josh said. “This isn’t hard.”
“Shhh—and yes, it is.” I tugged on the bottom of my fuzzy red sweater—which I’d paired with boyfriend jeans—and tucked my hair behind my ears. “What if he wants to talk about it?”
“You just told me that you guys texted all day yesterday.”
“Yeah, but texting is different,” I explained, leaning down to pick up the remote control that had been cat-batted onto the floor. “Face-to-face, after I attacked him on his couch, is—”
“Quit being a pussy,” Josh said, his eyes still on the computer. “And open the damn door.”
“Fine.” I walked over, grabbed the cat off his lap, and turned toward the door. “But I’m taking the Darkling for protection.”
“Why would you take the cat to the door?”
“Because I don’t know if I can deal with him looking at me like I made a move on him,” I said, squeezing the cat against my shoulder as he tried jumping down. “Darkster will be a good distraction.”
“You are such a dumbass,” he muttered as I walked over to the door and grabbed the handle. I shifted the cat in my arms and pulled open the door.
“Hey.” It was a small word, a casual one-syllable utterance, but the way Blake said it made my breath catch. His dark gaze moved all over my face, like he was searching for something specific. He looked tense, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at his mouth and remembering how it’d felt on mine.
“Hey,” I replied, turning my attention to the cat in my arms before Blake had a chance to mistake my eye contact for a desire to talk.
“Listen, Iz, I need to talk to you—”
“Sup, Physical Challenge?” Josh yelled from behind me.
Thank you, Josh.
“Josh.” Blake sounded surprised by Josh’s presence, but I wasn’t about to look at him. “How’s it going?”
Josh said, “You know.”
I had no idea what to do next, so I looked at Josh.
“I’m just about…” he said, rapidly hitting keys on the keyboard. He muttered, “Yes, fucker,” before looking up, smiling at us, and saying, “…to take off.”
“No,” I blurted out, desperate to not be alone with Blake. “You don’t have to go.”
Josh pushed back the wireless keyboard and stood. “There’s a bacon sandwich upstairs that’s calling my name.”
“I have bacon,” I said, glancing back at Blake, who was watching me with his eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, but what kind of bread do you have?” Josh asked, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “I only like bacon on Wonder Giant.”
“I have Wonder Giant,” I blurted, relieved that I actually had the stupid bread that my cousin wanted.
“Do you have any mayo?” he asked.
“I think I have—”
“She’s out of mayo,” Blake interrupted, his voice firm. “And bread.”
Josh’s face split into a huge grin as his eyes went from Blake to me. “Message received.”
“But—but I have both,” I said, but it was too late. Josh, that jackass, totally betrayed me. He walked around me and out the door without even looking back.
Shit.
I didn’t look at Blake as I closed the door behind Josh, but when I turned around, he was there, crowding me against the door.
“Why are you trying to avoid me?” His voice was thick and deep as he looked down at me.
I rubbed my lips together and said, “I’m not—”
“Isabella Shay.” He moved, and before I knew what he was doing, he took the cat from my arms and dropped the Darkling onto the floor.
“Blake Phillips.” I meant to say more, maybe, but my heart started thumping as he stepped a little closer.
I looked up at his hot eyes and felt a little lightheaded when he said, “I’m going to fucking lose my mind if you don’t let me talk to you.”
“So talk,” I said, intending to sound unaffected but failing to pull it off when my voice came out breathy in almost a whisper.
“You’ll find out on Monday that Ellis bought out a company called Everett Holdings in Boston—which is why I was there.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to pay attention, but the close proximity of his body was all I could focus on.
“Ellis reconfigured its org chart afterward, to absorb new employees under the existing leadership umbrella.”
I wasn’t sure why he was talking about work, but I was glad. Maybe focusing on work would help me stop focusing on him and the way it felt to be so close to him.
“I saw the chart this morning, and HR is no longer in my division.”
“What? Who do we report to now?” I asked. I liked my job, but a new boss could ruin everything. “Someone from Everett or—”
“Not me.”
“Oh, well, that’s specific,” I quipped, wondering how this would affect my job. “You don’t have any idea at all?”
“Izzy.” He set his palms on the door, one on each side of me. “I’m trying to tell you that we can be more than friends. If we want to.”
I gasped. “What?”
His Adam’s apple dipped when he swallowed, and then he said, “I’m fine with staying the way we are, though, so no pressure if that’s what you want.”
He watched me, and God, the look. His jaw flexed and our breaths mingled and the world held still for a second when our eyes locked. We moved together the tiniest bit, a nearly imperceptible sway, as if he were a magnet and I was steel.
My throat felt dry as my eyes traveled over his face. I managed to breathe out, “I, um, I would very much like to explore more than—”
His mouth cut me off, landing hard on mine as he inhaled sharply, like he’d been woken from a dream. He angled his head and went deep, and I forgot what every kiss before this felt like. I couldn’t hear or see or breathe anything but him; he was my center.
His mouth ate at mine, kissing me like he’d been denying himself and was finally indulging, and I raised my hands and set them on his chest. Grasped at his sweatshirt, needing to get closer. To get more.
His palms stayed planted on the door as his body pressed against mine, as he stepped even closer. I could feel the heat of him, of that solid, warm body, and I felt hungry. Starved. I fisted his hoodie and bit down on his lower lip, which made him grunt and press closer still.
“That kiss yesterday gutted me,” he said against my lips. “And it’s all I’ve thought about since.”
“I have to confess,” I said, looking up into those dark eyes, “that the dream was actually about you, not Chef Tom.”
“Oh, I know,” he said, his lips turning up into a dirty, delicious smile.
It made me brave.
“And about that kiss,” I said, thrilled at the thought of him being even half as obsessed as I’d been. “I dreamt about it last night.”
“Tell me,” he said, moving his mouth down to lick at my neck.
“Can’t,” I said, melting as he nipped my skin and made me burn all over. “Too embarrassing.”
“Hot?” he asked, his tongue sliding over the spot he’d bitten.
“Oh, yeah,” I sighed, letting my head fall back to give him better access.
“Tell me anyway,” he growled, his voice raspy in my ear as he nipped my earlobe. “Where were we?”
“In your room,” I said, struggling to form words as he kissed my throat. “New bed.”
He raised his head and looked a little wild-eyed. “Naked?”
“So naked,” I said, and the look on his face when I said that told me that we were about to have sex against my front door.
And I’d never wanted anything more.
My hands found the bottom of his hoodie and slid underneath, touching the taut, hot skin of his shredded stomach—holy shit . He sucked in a breath as his palms gave way to his forearms on the door, putting his body flush against mine without the tiniest bit of space between us.
“Iz.” I felt the heat of his gaze before his mouth went back to mine, feeding me unbridled kisses that made me push myself against him. He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, taking every hot kiss he delivered as he carried me toward the hall. My fingers drove into his hair, and I wondered how it was possible to feel so much.
I was weakened by it, the power of my want, while at the same time feeling strength in every meeting of our mouths. I wanted nothing in the world but Blake, nothing in the world but the two of us in that moment. It didn’t seem possible, but he was everything to me in that white-hot minute.
He made a sound in his throat, but instead of walking into my bedroom, he turned.
He walked through what seemed like the kitchen, but I was too lost in his lips and the way his teeth toyed with my lower lip to confirm, and then—
Then he set me down on the kitchen table.
I opened my eyes—which was far more difficult than it sounded—and he was looking down at me with so much sex in his eyes that I felt dizzy. His face was flushed as he said, “I have an idea.”
Holy shit , Mr. Chest wanted kitchen table action? I tried to sound chill when I removed my fingers from his thick hair, and I tried to sound casual as my blood pressure hit what must’ve been a catastrophic range, because my hands started shaking and my lips felt tingly. “Change of plans, Phillips?”
“Yeah.” He ran a thumb over my cheek and said, “I want to take you out.”
Blake
I watched that little wrinkle form between her eyebrows, like she was confused.
Yeah, I got that. I was alone with Izzy and we were finally free to do whatever the hell we wanted, yet I was pumping the brakes. Idiot much?
But the thing of it was, I really liked Iz. I liked being friends with her, regardless of the shape of her body (perfect) and her beautiful face. I liked the smell of her hair and the way her nose scrunched when she grinned, but I loved her smart-ass fuckery even more.
So much so that now, on the eve of our relationship being suddenly green-lighted and wide open, I was nervous that rushing into sex might somehow screw everything up.
I said, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but going from zero to one hundred seems unwise. Should we maybe pause for dinner?”
Izzy blinked up at me before she said, “Wait. You’re hungry?”
“No, numb nuts ,” I said, reveling in the smile that curved her lips when she realized I’d heard her cousin through the door earlier. “I’m asking if you’ll go to dinner with me tonight.”
“Well, I don’t know,” she said, tilting her head and giving me that playful look that made me want to mess up her hair or tickle her until she fell down. “Where are you going to take me?”
“Wherever you want,” I said, realizing I meant it. I looked at that upturned face and felt a little unnerved by how willing I was to give her whatever she wanted, do whatever she requested.
“So, Paris for dinner sounds good,” she said, reaching out a hand to tug on the strings of my hoodie. “But only if we wear berets.”
“Negative. No one looks good in a beret.”
“Audrey Hepburn did,” she said, and I was so fucking into the way I never knew what was going to come out of her mouth that it had become problematic. I texted and called her way too often, but honestly, talking to her was all I ever wanted to do. I said, “Debatable, and no berets.”
“Fine.” She grinned, giving me her full-scale smile as she leaned back on her arms. “How about dinner in Tuscany?”
“You’re picky,” I said, leaning down to rub my nose against her collarbone because something about it was driving me wild. “And real Italian spaghetti is nothing like what you’re used to. I’m afraid you’ll starve.”
I lifted my head and wondered how a smart-ass smirk could make me feel so unbalanced.
“So Italy is out, then, because obviously spaghetti is the only possible dinner item.” She pursed her lips, like she was seriously considering our options, and said, “Then all that’s left is Johnny’s down on L Street, I guess.”
“Perfect,” I said, needing to kiss her again.
I lowered my mouth, hypnotized by the way she looked at me, and just when my lips touched hers, she said, “But I can’t go with you to your garage now.”
I pulled back from the kiss. “Why not?”
“You know.” She shrugged and rubbed her nose against mine, soft and slow as her breath touched my lips, and it caused a strange physical reaction. The movement made something in my chest pinch, and now I was convinced I was losing my goddamn mind. Surely it was my libido talking, because chest pinches in response to physical contact were not a real thing for grown-ass adults.
“I do not know,” I managed, pulling back a little farther. “You’re bailing on me?”
“Here’s the thing, Mr. Chest,” she said, scooting over on the table just enough to drop her feet to the floor and stand. I watched as she tucked her hair behind her ears, took a deep breath, then hit me with, “If I see you in coveralls with a wrench in your hand, there’s no telling where the afternoon will go. And as lovely as that idea sounds, I really want to go on a date with you tonight.”
I didn’t get it at first, and then she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.
“Damn it, Shay,” I bit out through gritted teeth as sexual images of Izzy and me on the trunk of her car came at me, “I told you I don’t have coveralls.”
That made her snort and tap her forehead with her index finger. “But you do up here.”
I couldn’t hold back the smile, just like I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and giving her ponytail a tug. “So I have to go to Springfield by myself because you’re a little pervert?”
She shrugged again and said around a giggle, “So it would seem.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair.”
“You’re an asshole,” I said, pulling my keys out of my front pocket. “Did you know that?”
“An asshole who will FaceTime you throughout the entire repair.” She slid her fingers through mine and pulled me behind her, through the kitchen and toward the door. Her small hand in mine, tugging me along, caused that fucking idiotic chest-pinch thing again, which would’ve pissed me off if she hadn’t made me laugh by saying, “The only difference will be that I cannot digitally goose you while you lean over my engine.”
“You would’ve goosed me?” I asked, releasing her hand to mess with the tendrils around her face that had fallen out of her ponytail. “Digitally?”
“You know what I mean,” she said, laughing and batting at my hands. “I was referring to the method of communication, not the method of goosing.”
She went up on her tiptoes and kissed me then, and I was still grinning like an idiot when I climbed into my car and put the keys in the ignition. I was about to pull away when the phone buzzed in my pocket.
I expected it to be my little smart-ass, texting her usual bullshit from the window, but it was an email from my boss instead. I was miles away from caring enough to read it—it was after hours, for fuck’s sake—when I saw the subject line.
Re: Reconfigured Org Chart—V.2 (revised)
“Son of a bitch.” I got that feeling in my gut, the one that told me I was going to fucking hate that attachment, and I rubbed my temple with my fingers. Shit, shit, shit.
But just as I was about to click the attachment, I closed the email app instead.
“Nope,” I muttered to myself, putting the phone back in my pocket and buckling my seat belt. I pulled away from the curb, stood on the gas pedal, and made the decision to ignore my messages until Monday morning.