3. Claire
CHAPTER 3
CLAIRE
I ’d had just enough wine to dare Blake to kiss me, but not enough to dull the sensation. I felt it all when our lips met, his hot mouth on mine. His hand in my hair, then on my shoulder. A flutter of excitement deep in my belly, the promise of bright bursts of fireworks to come.
“Wait,” he said, “wait. We’ve both had some wine.” He stepped back and I followed him, chasing his warmth.
“I’m not drunk. Are you?”
He laughed. “No, I’m not. But, are you sure?—”
A light came on in the big house, and I plucked back my keys. I worked the lock without looking, behind my back, and winked up at Blake. “I’m sober, just happy. And, if I’m honest…” I looked away.
“If you’re honest, what?”
“You know you’re good-looking.”
Blake hooked a finger under my chin. He tilted my face up and I felt my cheeks redden.
“What are you saying?”
I took him by both hands and pulled him inside. The door slammed behind us, and we both jumped, then laughed.
“I’m saying this isn’t, it’s not just tonight. It’s not just an impulse because you’re here and you’re hot.” Blake’s brows shot up, and I rolled my eyes. “That’s right, I said it. You’re hot. You’re a snack. Don’t pretend you don’t know it.”
“Pretend I don’t.” He cupped my face with his hand. I pressed my cheek to his palm, cool from the night.
“You’re tall,” I said, and hid my face in his hand. “And you have those huge hands, and, you know. Muscles. But the first thing I noticed…” I bit my lip. “You’ll laugh.”
“Promise I won’t.”
I pulled back to look at him, right in his eyes. He was a prime specimen, a hot slab of man. But it wasn’t his gray eyes that had caught my attention, or his square jaw, or his scratchy gold stubble. It wasn’t even his smile, though that had its charms. What had grabbed me that first day he walked into class was something more subtle, but to me, more endearing.
“Remember that first day of Hargreaves’ class?”
Blake frowned. “He was late. We thought he was sick.”
“And everyone had their phones out, checking for updates, or they were whining how busy they were. How they paid for Hargreaves’ class, or more like their folks did, and blah blah blah. How very dare he. But you were just sitting there reading a book, like you’d be fine if he never showed up. You’d be happy to sit there and read your book. Nobody’s like that in med school — relaxed — but you were there like this island, this calm in the storm. And you’re always like that. You’re always cool.”
“The first day.” Blake smiled. “You noticed me then?”
I ducked my head, embarrassed. “You’re hard to miss.”
He pushed up my chin again. “I noticed you too, and way before that.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not. I’ll prove it.” He took a deep breath. “First year, first week, I was buying my books. You walked by all in white. White head to toe. Even your shoes were white, not a speck of mud on them, and I couldn’t believe it, because of the rain.”
“Shoe covers.” I glanced down. “You noticed my shoes?”
“And the rain in your hair, like little diamonds. All I could think was, how isn’t she soaked? How isn’t she like the rest of us, wet as drowned rats? And I’ve still never figured out how you’re so perfect.”
My laughter died out. “Perfect? Me?”
“Yeah, you’re so smart, always with the right answers. And you’ve got that sweet voice, like listening to music. Your hair, it’s so soft — well, I never knew that till now.” He ran a careful hand through my thick curls. “But I guessed from the look of it, and your skin’s so soft too. Peaches and cream and those pretty brown eyes. I half thought I’d dreamed you till you showed up in class.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I kissed him again. Blake pushed my hair back from my face.
“I really like you,” he said. “Not just how you look.”
I felt warm. “Me too.”
“And I want you to know…” He took a deep breath. “I want you to know, I’m not out for some hookup. I’d want to see you again, to see where this goes.”
“I’d want that too. But, about that hookup…” I slid my hand down to pinch his tight ass. He laughed.
“Oh, you’re naughty.”
“I don’t hear you complaining.”
He swooped in for a searing kiss, a real toe-curler. I pressed up against him, eager for more. His breathing went rough and I felt my pulse race, and then he was crowding me back down the hall, through the first open door, into the parlor. We tripped over the coffee table and collapsed on the couch, Blake half on top of me, my leg flung out.
“You okay?”
I hooked a leg around him. “I’m fine.”
“Let me grab you a pillow?—”
“I said I’m fine.” I pulled him down by his shirt front for another deep kiss. He cupped my head in one hand while the other wandered, toying with my hair, then the buttons of my blouse. He traced the line of my bra with the pad of his thumb, following the roses woven into the lace. I gasped as he circled around my taut nipple, sucked air through my teeth as he gave it a pinch.
“It’s too dark,” he said. “I want to see you.” He leaned up and over me to flick on the light, and I slid my hands up under his shirt. His chest was well-muscled, dusted with hair. I pressed my face to it, breathing him in.
“You smell good,” I said.
“Yeah? You smell better.” He kissed my lips, then my neck, then down to my shoulder. I unbuttoned his shirt and he let it fall off him. His belt went next, and I pushed down his pants. He had an old scar low on his belly. I touched it.
“Appendix?”
“Yeah.”
“Very rugged.”
We laughed, then he groaned as my fingers trailed lower. A muscle twitched and he shivered. Goosebumps rose, then died down. I kissed my way down his chest, following the hitch of his breathing, over his ribs, then down his belly. I trailed my tongue down the length of his old silver scar, down one tree-trunk leg and up the other. The muscles contracted, rock-hard and solid, then loosened as he let out a shuddering breath. His hands dropped down to play with my hair. I loved the way he did it, careful and sweet, never tugging or twisting or mussing my curls.
“So good,” he sighed.
“Yeah? You like this?” I slid up his body and let out a slow breath, exhaling against the bulge in his shorts. He hissed and bucked up, but didn’t once pull my hair. I traced the line of his cock with butterfly kisses and savored the sounds he made, every soft grunt and sigh.
“Come up here,” he said.
I smiled against him. “Not yet.”
A low sound escaped him, half-groan, half-curse. I tugged at his waistband and his cock sprang free. He was as big there as everywhere else, but he didn’t pull me toward him or push my head down. He just let his hands slide free from my hair and gripped the bedsheets instead as I flicked out my tongue.
“Oh, God. Oh…”
I forced myself to be patient and take my time, teasing him slowly, soft swirls and licks. When I glanced up at him, he was biting his lip.
“You can be loud if you want,” I said. “No one can hear us.”
Blake slid one hand up and bit that instead. I closed my eyes and relaxed and slid my lips down his shaft, and swallowed him deeply, almost to the root. The sound he made then was almost a scream. His hips jerked, his abs jumped, and he bunched his fists in the sheets.
“God, Claire, I?—”
I moaned around him to make his cock pulse. Slid my hand up his thigh, nails on bare skin.
“Oh, God,” he gasped. “Stop. It’s too much.”
I pulled off with a pop . “Stop now?”
“I don’t want our first time to be a five-second wonder.” He drew a deep breath and gripped his cock at the base. “Come up here, come on.”
I crawled up and kissed him. Blake flipped us over and caught my hands in his.
“I don’t want to presume, but did you bring?—”
“My pocket. No, this one.” I still had my jacket on, and I pulled it off. Blake took it from me and felt through the pockets. He came up with a condom and tore off the wrapper, and I snatched it from him and rolled it on.
“Impatient,” he said.
“Yeah? Can you wait?”
He rocked back on his heels and took his time with my clothes, undressing me slowly, one piece at a time. Every inch of skin he bared, he bent to kiss it. In a way, it was torture, never enough. In another, more urgent way, I wished it would never end. Blake’s kisses were fire, his breath hot on my skin. When I shuddered, he lingered to tease and caress. He mapped out my body one kiss at a time, till I couldn’t stand it and I grabbed him by his hair.
“No more,” I said.
He smirked. “No more what?”
“No more teasing. I need you right now.”
His smirk widened, but I’d had it. I pulled him down hard.
“Right now.”
“Yeah? Now?”
“Unless you want a smack.”
“I wouldn’t say no to that. But right now sounds good.” He slid into me slow, one long, deep thrust. I arched up to meet him, and the dam broke. Blake couldn’t hold back any more than I could, and he fucked me hard, a punishing rhythm.
I bit back my cries at first, but Blake was moaning my name, and I hoped I’d been right about nobody hearing. I let myself pant for him, scream for him, beg for him, until my throat went hoarse and I ran out of breath. I knew when Blake was close by the way he tensed up, and I let myself tumble over the edge. I saw stars for a moment, then my vision went white, and the next thing I knew, I was cuddled up to Blake’s chest, letting him comb out my hair with his fingers.
“You’re good at that too,” he said.
I smiled. “So are you.” I moved to get up, but Blake pulled me back.
“Don’t go.”
“I’m all sweaty.”
“So? You feel good.”
I stretched out against him, content in his arms. Soon his breathing evened out, and I knew he was sleeping. I wriggled around till I could see his face, his lips still curled up in a slight smile. Had he meant what he’d said about wanting to see me? About wanting us to be more than a hookup? I’d said I did too, but had I meant it? One day, he might be called off to war. Not today, though, and not tomorrow, and probably not a whole lot of days after that.
I closed my eyes and laid my head on his chest. Tonight was Thanksgiving, and I had a lot to give thanks for. The future would keep, at least till the morning.