1. The One-Night Stand
1
Roxy
“Come on, Blake. You know it’s true.”
I look over at one of the two occupied tables in my section as the voice rings out. The three men have been an entertaining bunch, breaking up the monotony of an unusually slow shift. The one with the darkest hair is pointing at the smiley one who’s been blatantly flirting with me all night––who I assume is Blake. The latter has his palms in the air as a shit-eating grin spreads across his face.
My eyes dart to the other table I’ve been serving, an older couple who, as of yet, seem unbothered by the boisterous outbursts of the three men. Armstrong’s is known for its upscale clientele and serene setting, so if the couple starts to look irritated, I’m going to have to ask the men to keep it down.
I look back at the trio. They’re all wearing high-quality suits, though one of them has a bit of dark ink peeking out from beneath his collar. I initially assumed they’re bankers. Or maybe even lawyers.
Now, I’m not so sure. They don’t seem stiff and uptight enough to be bankers or lawyers, and all three of them are built like brick shithouses. Wide shoulders, thick arms, and thighs that bulge beneath the wool of their suits. Whatever they do for a living, they obviously never skip leg day.
I walk over and stop beside their table. Blake’s eyes light up when he sees me, his grin turning downright seductive.
“Do you need anything? Dessert? Another round of pale ales?” I ask.
They finished their meals a while ago, and I’ve already cleared their plates. All three of them have been nursing their second beers, and the tatted one picks up his glass to drink the last swallow before answering my question.
“I’m good,” he says, then looks at his friends. “Are you guys ready for the check?”
“Yeah, I’m done,” the one who called out Blake says, finishing off his own drink.
“I think I want to see the dessert menu,” Blake says, the purr in his voice undeniably erotic.
“And that’s our cue to leave,” the second man says with a chuckle. “That means you’re picking up the tab, right?”
Blake nods, but his gaze never strays from mine. Heat unfurls in my belly as my heart rate picks up. I blink and take a step back, telling him I’ll be right back with the dessert menu. I curse myself all the way to the host’s station.
I’m usually much smoother than this when it comes to being hit on, but this guy is h-a-w-t and it’s been a minute since I’ve had any action in the man department. I pause, thinking back to the last time I got laid. I slept with one of the guests at my friend Hadley’s bed and breakfast, unbeknownst to her. She’d kill me if she knew I slipped into her place to bang one of her customers.
Shit. That was over ten months ago. No wonder my game is off.
Grabbing a dessert menu, I pass Blake’s two friends as they leave the restaurant. They nod at me in passing, not a trace of judgement on either of their faces at my obvious openness to their friend’s flirtation. Not that it would really matter to me, anyway, but it’s nice to not be looked at like some kind of floozy.
Blake’s eyes heat as he watches me walk toward him. His fingers brush over mine lightly as I hand him the menu, and my breath hitches at the contact, making him smile wider.
“What do you suggest?” he asks, not breaking eye contact to even glance at the menu in his hand.
“The chocolate soufflé is decadent. Or if you prefer something fruity, we have a delicious panna cotta with raspberries.”
“I’ll take the soufflé,” he says, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Good choice. I’ll go put in your order,” I say, holding out a hand for the menu he still hasn’t glanced at.
He holds it toward me, but when I move to take it, he doesn’t release his grip on it. “Care to join me? I really shouldn’t eat the whole thing by myself.”
“I can’t,” I breathe, the huskiness in his voice doing things to my libido. “I’m working.”
“What time do you get off?” he asks, finally releasing the menu.
“Ten.”
Lifting his arm, he pulls back the sleeve of his jacket to reveal a silver, large-faced watch. “Only thirty minutes to go. Just tell the chef to take his or her time making it.”
“I really can’t,” I say. “It’s against restaurant policy. I can get into trouble.”
“In that case, I’ll take it to go,” he says. “And if I’m lucky, you’ll agree to come to my place and share it with me.”
I swallow thickly, and without responding to his suggestion, I turn on a heel and hurry toward the kitchen. Dropping the menu onto one of the butcher block counters, I lean against the ledge and take a few deep breaths.
I’m no stranger to one-night stands. Sure, it’s been a while, but I shouldn’t be feeling so rattled. But something about this guy is throwing me off-kilter, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. The mischievous glint in his blue eyes combined with his blatant confidence is damn sexy.
I want him.
Making the decision, I put in his dessert order with the chef. Printing out the checks for him and the couple at my other table, I take theirs to them. After making sure they don’t need anything else, I head toward Blake. He’s still watching me with those bright eyes, and I feel my lady bits start to tingle with anticipation.
“Your soufflé should be packed up and ready to go in twenty minutes,” I say, handing him the black binder that holds his check.
Pulling a money clip from the inside pocket of his jacket, he plucks out three one-hundred-dollar bills and tucks them inside the binder without even glancing at the check, which only totals a hundred and seventy-five. Handing the binder over, he gives another of those heated smiles.
“And you?” he asks.
I stare at him for a long moment, then nod. “I’ll be ready to go, too.”
His nostrils flare as he breathes deep, then gives me a smile so brilliant, it nearly takes my breath away. I take a step back and spin, walking as steadily as I can to my other table to gather their payment. By the time I close them out and return the gentleman’s credit card, all with Blake’s gaze burning against my skin, my body is twitching with need.
Grabbing his dessert, I pack it into a to-go container and carry it out to him. I quietly tell him to wait in the parking lot. I need to clock out and grab my car from the employee lot out back, and then I’ll follow him home. He nods like he has zero doubt I’ll change my mind and flake out, then stands.
As he walks past me, I get a whiff of his woodsy cologne. The scent is light and arousing, and I put a little pep in my step as I head to the back to clock out and grab my things. Calling out a goodbye to my co-workers, I rush to my car. Grabbing my compact and lip balm from my bag, I pat some powder on my nose and cheeks before swiping the stick over my lips. Then I pluck a mint from the small tin I keep in my bag, take a deep breath, and start the car.
This is really happening.
Grabbing my phone, I send out a quick text in my chat thread with my best friends, Tessa, Hadley, and Skye.
Me: I met a guy at the restaurant, and I’m going to his place. Wish me luck!
Hadley: Drop us a pin when you get there so we know where to look if we don’t hear from you tomorrow.
Skye: Jesus, Had. Way to kill the mood. You really need to stop watching those true crime shows every night.
Skye: Go get ‘em, Tiger.
Tessa: Have fun! Be safe!
Me: I will!
Dropping my phone into the passenger seat, I pull around the building to the main parking lot. I see Blake sitting in a decked-out black Jeep Wrangler. He waves when he sees it’s me, then pulls out of the lot as I follow behind him.
He drives to a large building surrounded by trees and a tall security fence. He must tell the guard at the gate I’m with him, because the uniformed man waves me through without asking me to stop. I follow Blake into the underground parking garage, and nerves start to flutter in my stomach.
Maybe I should stop watching those true crime shows, too. The dim interior is creeping me out more than it should. I watch Blake pull into a numbered spot, then coast my car into one of the spots on my right marked for visitors. Grabbing my phone, I drop a pin to the girls before picking up my bag and climbing from the car.
Better to be safe than sorry.
Blake walks toward me with his dessert in hand. He offers me an elbow with a kind smile, and I take it, feeling some of my nerves dissipate. We walk to the elevator, and he pushes the button to call the car down to us.
“So, Roxanne, do you live here in Branston?” he asks.
The name tag I had on earlier reads “Roxanne.” Blake has been calling me that all night, and I don’t correct him like I normally would. I prefer to be called Roxy, but something about the way he says my full name gets under my skin.
“No,” I say. “I commute from Sublime.”
“Ah,” he says. “Cute town. I have a friend who lives in Sublime, so I spend quite a bit of time there.”
“I love it,” I say as the elevator doors swish open and we step inside. “Of course, it’s the only place I’ve ever lived, so I might be a bit biased.”
“You’re lucky you’ve got roots,” he says. “I’ve had to move a few times for work, so I always end up living in rental places like my condo here. I hope to buy a house soon, though.”
“You think you’ll stay in Branston for a while, then?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Here’s to hoping.”
He pulls out his wallet and plucks a card free. Tapping it to the sensor on the wall, he tucks it away as the doors close and the elevator starts to rise. Silence falls between us, and my heart pounds chaotically in my chest as the elevator rises higher and higher.
When it stops and the doors slide open, we step out into a wide hallway with two doors at either end. Blake holds out an arm to the right, and I head in that direction. He places a firm hand against the small of my back, leading me to the door before removing it to press his fingertip against the small screen on the wall beside it. The lock disengages, and he turns the knob to swing open the door before leading me inside.
“Cordelia, lights,” he says, and two lamps on end tables capping a large navy sofa click on.
“Oh, fancy,” I tease, and he grins.
“This place comes with all the bells and whistles. It took me days to figure out how to work everything.”
I follow him into a large kitchen that has me salivating. I bake cookies as a side hustle in my free time, and I’d kill to have a kitchen like this with a giant gas stovetop, two ovens, and two sinks. Setting his dessert onto the counter, Blake shrugs out of his jacket and removes his tie before unbuttoning the top two buttons of his dress shirt.
“Can I offer you something to drink? I have a couple of beers in the fridge, and there’s a nice bottle of red I received as a housewarming gift I haven’t opened yet.”
“Beer is fine,” I say, setting my bag on the counter and pulling off my own thick coat.
I’m still wearing my work uniform––a pair of fitted black slacks, a white button-down blouse, and sensible dress shoes. I feel a bit frumpy standing next to him, but the way his eyes rake over me as he twists the tops off a couple of beers and hands me one negates the feeling.
He obviously likes what he sees.
We stare at each other as we each take a drink from our bottles. Then he reaches out to take mine from me, sets them both on the counter, and reaches around to release the clip that holds my long red hair in a tight twist at the base of my skull. Dropping the clip to the counter, he reaches out, then pauses with his hand near my hair.
“May I?”
I nod, and he runs his fingers through the locks before gripping it lightly to tilt my head up. We watch each other for a moment, then he brings his face close to mine.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Roxanne,” he says, giving me a moment to protest.
When my lips part to exhale roughly, his blue eyes spark with need. He closes the distance, brushing his full lips over mine softly. My hands find his waist, gripping him tightly as his tongue slips into my mouth. He groans at that first taste, shuffling forward to press his whole body against mine.
Our kiss turns frantic, both of us moaning as we taste each other again and again. Blake’s free hand moves around my waist to hold me against him, and he slowly backs me out of the kitchen. We enter a dark room, and Blake breaks off the kiss roughly.
“Cordelia, bedroom lights.”
The darkness is chased away by two lamps flanking one of the biggest beds I’ve ever seen. Blake releases my hair, moving that hand to join the other on my ass, and picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as we resume kissing, and he carries me over to the monstrous mattress, setting me back on my feet as his fingers pluck at the buttons on my blouse.
We undress each other with quick, clumsy fingers as we make out, and when we’re both down to our underwear, Blake breaks off the kiss and looks down at me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his fingertip tracing a line down my neck to the swell of my boobs over the edge of my push-up bra.
I reach behind me and unclasp the torture device, shrugging my shoulders until it drops down my arms and falls to the floor. Blake’s eyes brighten with new fire, and his light touch moves down my chest to circle my nipple. I’m breathing hard, and he kisses me quickly before bending lower to suck my breast. My head falls back as moisture rushes to my core.
Blake pushes down my underwear, as he worships my breasts with his mouth, and the second I step out of them, he picks me up and tosses me onto the bed. I squeal with surprise, and he chuckles as he climbs onto the mattress and kneels between my legs.
“Now, it’s time for dessert,” he says, then leans over to kiss a path upward along my inner thigh.
My eyes blink open, and I panic for a moment, not knowing where I am. Deep, even breathing beside me brings it all rushing back. I’m in Blake’s condo. In his bed.
And I’m fucking wrung out from all the orgasms he gave me last night.
One with his tongue. Another with his fingers. And two more with his glorious cock.
I swear, the man must be part machine. Like the Energizer Bunny, he just keeps going.
I slip from beneath the heavy hand resting on my stomach and slide over the edge of the bed. Careful to keep quiet, I gather up my clothes and slip into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me.
I use the toilet and wash my hands, all the while praying the running water doesn’t wake him. Quickly pulling on my clothes, I turn off the light and crack open the bathroom door. Poking my head out, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness as I listen for Blake’s breathing.
I can tell he’s still asleep, and I breathe a sigh of relief before tiptoeing toward the open bedroom door with my shoes in my hand. Turning to take one last look at him, I let my eyes trace his large form half-covered with a thin sheet. Then I leave the room.
Grabbing my purse, I take a moment to pop his uneaten soufflé into the refrigerator before sneaking out of the condo like a thief in the night. It’s early, so the hallway is deserted. I suffer a moment of panic when I get on the elevator, but luckily, there’s a button to take me to the garage. I don’t know what I’d do if I needed Blake’s keycard to get back to my car.
I’m not one for awkward mornings-after. We had a lot of chemistry in the moment, and I’d rather remember that than some stilted conversation where I’m wondering if he’s hoping I’ll hurry up and leave.
It’s better this way, and I’m sure Blake would agree.