Chapter 15
CASSANDRA
We jumped apart as the door rattled open. I smoothed out my hair, panicky. But we were in shadow, in the back corner of the garage, and Jude was chatting with someone right outside the door.
“You should drive,” Blake said, his voice tight and low. He slipped me the keys, interlacing his fingers between mine for a moment as he transferred them into my palm. “You know where you’re going.” His eyes met mine and I swear I felt heat spurt between my legs.
I shook as I started up the cart, and Blake lay his hand on my thigh, pulling it away as I backed up and angled us out of the garage.
“Have fun!” Jude called after us.
I wove us down the path with agonizing slowness thanks to the throngs of golfers, mostly senior citizens.
“Do you know any of these people?” Blake asked.
I did a scan of their faces but saw only tourists. “No.”
“Good,” he said, bringing his hand back to my thigh, gripping my flesh. I’d worn a skirt today, a knee-length linen that crumpled under Blake’s fist.
A ripple of heat ran through me. A warning, too, in my brain. You can’t come back from this.
We went over a bump and his hand slid across my thigh, the scrape of his palm across my bare leg sending lightning to my center, as if fate was deciding for me.
With his free hand, Blake waved at the last couple on the path.
I sped up, going as fast as the cart could go. Rain pinged against the plexiglass windshield. “What are we doing, Blake?” I whispered.
Blake slid his hand further up, hiking my skirt up around my upper thighs. “We’re being alone together. Doing whatever the fuck we want.”
“You know what I mean,” I said, and realized I was on the verge of tears. Hot, angry, desperate tears. I was taking one last grasp at the sane, rational course of action.
“Do you want me to stop?” Blake asked, but his hand slid up and cupped my mound over the fabric of my underwear. I let out a sound at the pure, abject pleasure I felt as he pressed his fingers against me.
He didn’t move his hand, just held it there as if claiming the spot. I remembered the way he held his cock that night in the hotel room, as if in no rush.
“Do you, Cassandra?”
I grew wet, and I knew Blake could feel it because he gave a sharp intake of air. “I don’t think you do.” He drew his fingers up so they barely touched my cloth-covered flesh.
Still, he didn’t make any more movement, just held his hand there in exquisite torture. I pinched my lips between my teeth. Maybe if I didn’t say anything he’d stop, the decision made for me.
But my hips rocked against him without me thinking, pushing me into his hand. The pleasure from just that movement sent a shudder through me.
“It feels like you want me to keep touching you.”
My clit ached, though he wasn’t even properly touching it.
“Tell me to stop,” Blake said.
I should have said it. I should have. But the way he was touching me, all I could think was more.
“Don’t stop,” I breathed.
In the distance, on a hill, a quad of golfers stood under large black umbrellas.
They were far enough away I hoped they couldn’t see what Blake was doing to me.
What he very much shouldn’t be doing to me, but what I wanted so desperately I was having trouble concentrating on keeping the wheel straight.
It would have been dangerous if we’d been at any speed.
“Fucking touch me, Blake,” I said, gritting my teeth.
Blake looked at me, his jaw clenching, his mouth curling up in a smile. Then he slipped a finger beneath the fabric, sliding it inside of me. I gasped.
He inserted a second finger next to the first and tugged at the mound of sensitive nerve-endings inside. “Oh God.” I breathed, gripping the wheel.
“Fuck,” he said. “You’re so fucking wet, Cassandra. So fucking perfect.”
He leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. He lifted one arm up and gripped the bar behind him with his right hand, his elbow up, while he worked his fingers inside of me, until I was riding his hand, moaning, whimpering, and gripping the steering wheel, about to go off onto the grass.
I saw the bulge in his pants as he worked me, and that was what nearly took me out.
“Stop,” I squeaked, then realized he couldn’t hear me. “Stop!” I exclaimed. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop!”
Blake slipped his hand out and I breathed hard. He tipped his head back against the bar, his other hand staying where it was. He grinned.
“I didn’t know I could come like that,” I said. “I mean, I still don’t know, but Jesus, Blake.”
“I’m happy to experiment.”
I pinched my lips, hating how I wanted his hand back. How I wanted him to try everything on me. How I wanted to try everything myself. Blake was testing everything about me.
The path forked up ahead. This was where I could either keep left, and go to where we were supposed to, or right, on the service road—an uncharted place where no one was supposed to go. That path led into the trees.
Blake watched me but said nothing. He didn’t touch me, didn’t try persuading me even though it was clear one way was the safe way and the other was not.
I gripped the steering wheel, aiming left. Be practical, Cassandra. He’s not here to stay.
But that was the very reason that at the last minute, I jerked the wheel to the right. Blake’s hand slid back onto my thigh, his grip tight now, squeezing my flesh. Desire shot through me. He wasn’t here to stay. So I should enjoy him while I could.
A moment later, a low, rough-hewn building emerged from the trees.
It was a storage shed, only about a hundred feet square.
Inside I knew there were tools, buckets, fertilizer.
It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was private.
That was all I needed. I pulled to a stop outside and powered off the cart.
I got up and strode to the shed fast, thinking I might change my mind.
I didn’t want to change my mind.
Jude used the same universal code for all the buildings, even though I’d told him to change it. Now as the door lock whirred open, I thanked God he didn’t listen.
Blake appeared at the side of the shed, rain darkening his suit jacket in tiny spots.
“If anyone sees us,” I whispered, “You know it’s more than just two people sneaking off for fun. I’m the CEO, I—”
“There’s no one here,” Blake said. “Get inside.”
My stomach swooped at his sudden hardness.
He was right, there was no one around. There was no one to see him cross over to where I stood and grip my face in both his hands.
No one to see my arms wrapping around his neck like they belonged there.
No one to see Blake’s mouth hungry on mine; greedy, nipping at me like he had that night he didn’t remember.
He didn’t remember.
I tensed, bracing my hands on his chest.
“Blake,” I said. “Stop.”
He froze.
I took a step back, needing space so I could get the words out. “I have to tell you something.”
Even if this was a onetime thing, I couldn’t go into it with anything less than total honesty. If everything else was a lie, I needed to at least keep what we had true.
He looked alarmed. “What is it?”
Heart pounding, I blurted it out. “We kissed, that night.”
He froze. “What?”
“That night, when you were drunk. We kissed. And you…”
“You told me we didn’t sleep together.”
“We didn’t!” I exclaimed. “I didn’t… I stopped anything from happening.”
“When?” he asked. I still couldn’t tell if he was upset or just shocked.
“What do you mean, when?”
“When did you stop it?”
“After we kissed. Well, after you… showed me.”
My eyes went down to the still-swollen bulge between his legs.
His eyes went wide. Then he turned around. “Jesus.” He strode to the wall opposite the door, the only one unadorned with equipment.
“You’re mad,” I said, even as a streak of heat went through me. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. It just didn’t make sense to tell you at the time,” I sounded defensive, I knew. Like I was making excuses. “Things were awkward enough.”
He turned around to face me. “Cassandra, if I’d known—”
“You held my hand, Blake. That night. You held my hand when we walked to the room. You told me I was pretty, you…”
I trailed off. What was I supposed to say? He’d stroked my ego? That I was that insecure? It would sound like I was blaming him, and I wasn’t I truly wasn’t. It was on me.
It was dim in here, the only light coming in from the murky, overcast day outside. He took a step toward me, his face laced with anger.
But that only revived my anger. It might not be his fault, but I did stop him. And yes, he had been drunk, but he’d been the one instigating. “I stopped before anything happened—”
“No,” he said.
No?
“This is not on you. This is my fault for getting drunk that night. I was being nihilistic. I put that pressure on you by saying that… I”—he grasped my hand—“You’re beautiful, Cassandra, but I’d want you even if you weren’t, okay?
Yes, I was attracted to the way you looked that first morning, and our…
isolated situation. But I liked the way you pushed back.
I liked watching you that first day in the boardroom, not ready to take my shit.
I like how you’ve never let me get away with being your savior.
And now that we’ve spent time together? You’re the highlight of every fucking day, Cass, I swear to God.
I don’t want you to think you’re incredible because I tell you that you are.
I want you to know that because it’s true. ”
I swallowed, having a hard time absorbing everything he’d said. This man… this incredible man. I realized right at that moment that I’d broken my vow to myself. My heart was wide open.
And then he kissed me. It was long and soft and beautiful.
When he pulled away, I could tell he was still grappling with anger, at himself, at me for being his client, at his whole situation. Something twitched in me, some understanding. Blake needed to get mad. Maybe not at me, but at everything. His whole life. He needed to get pissed.