7. Blake #2
Shutting off her computer, she clicks the monitor dark, then unhooks her laptop and slides it into the case. Her bag’s already hanging on the back of her chair, and she grabs it on her way out.
I hold the door open. She flicks off the light, steps past, and there’s a brief moment when her shoulder brushes mine. Too casual to be deliberate. Not casual enough to ignore.
She locks the door, and her keycard scrapes slightly against the sensor.
The media department is mostly empty now. Half the lights are dimmed. We pass a few staff, Suzanna, still on her phone, and Tarquin muttering something about Saturday’s press coverage.
“Night, Cassy,” one of the content girls says with a grin, glancing from me back to her.
“See you in the morning,” Riley calls over her shoulder, heading toward the bathroom. There’s a look in her eyes I don’t trust, like she knows something I don’t.
Once we leave the department, we’re halfway down the corridor when—
“Blake!”
I turn.
It’s Brody. He’s not alone. My sister Mariana is walking beside him, her coat thrown over her arm, ponytail a little messy like she’s had a long day assessing someone's brain.
They catch up quickly, and Brody claps me on the shoulder so hard I swear my teeth jolt.
“Hey sis,” I nod at Mariana. “Good day?”
She exhales one word. “No.”
“Hi Brody,” Cassy says with her fake professional voice, then turns to Mariana. “Hello, Dr. Mitchell.”
Mariana smiles. “Hi, Cassy. For God's sake, call me Mariana. And love your tote bag, I might get one of those.”
“Thanks. It’s from Paris,” Cassy replies, adjusting the strap on her shoulder.
We start walking down the corridor together, the four of us. Brody and I start fake-sparring like we’re warming up for a fight.
“So, what’s it like being captain?” Mariana asks.
Before I even open my mouth—
“Oh, he’s still an asshole,” Brody smirks, ducking a swing.
“It takes one to know one,” I slap his arm, grinning.
He pauses mid-spar, leans into me, his voice lower now. “Seriously, bro. You know we’re all proud of you, right?”
I glance at him. Nod once. “Yeah.”
Behind us, Mariana turns to Cassy. “How are you settling into the new job?”
Cassy lets out a small laugh. “Well, I’ve certainly hit the ground running.”
Mariana raises a brow. “Yeah. It is a bit chaotic around here, isn't it?”
Cassy doesn’t answer that, just gives her this tiny smile.
“Oh,” Mariana adds, turning to me. “Mom’s cooking tomorrow night.”
I groan. Right on cue, Brody bites down on his lip, clearly trying not to laugh.
“She asked me to tell you to be there at seven.”
“Perfect,” I mutter, because what else am I supposed to say?
We step outside. The parking lot is dark except for the pale glow of the security lights. The air’s cooled off and quiet.
Brody and Mariana head toward his bike
“Okay, I’ll see you there tomorrow,” I call out. Then I point at Brody. “And I’ll see you in the morning.”
Brody gives me a mock salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.” He smirks, then adds with a tilt of his head, “Don’t screw it up.”
I pull my keys out of my jacket as we approach my truck.
Then the engine of Brody’s bike fires up like a damn jet, roaring through the lot.
That’s when I hear it, Cassy's heel snapping.
She stumbles.
My reflexes kick in before my brain does. I reach out and catch her, her body colliding into mine.
Her hands end up flat on my chest, and her bag slips off her shoulder, landing with a soft thud on the ground.
She freezes.
I don’t let go.
Neither does she.
Her breath is shallow. Her lips parted and her eyes wide as they stare into mine like she’s not entirely sure if this is an accident or something else.
And neither am I.
Her hands curl just a little in the fabric of my shirt.
I lean in a fraction, maybe not even that, but she’s already there.
Her mouth meets mine. Soft at first. Cautious. Hesitant. Then it ignites, and she kisses me like she means it. Like that night wasn’t some mistake we’re both pretending didn’t happen.
I pull her closer. Her body fits against mine like we’ve done this a thousand times.
The air shifts. Her fingers press into my chest, and mine lock tight around her waist. She breathes my name, barely more than a whisper against my lips, and just like that, the kiss deepens.
It gets hotter. Faster. Frantic.
Her hand moves up my neck, into my hair. My grip tightens around her hips. She tastes like peppermint gum and something I can’t name but crave anyway.
Her mouth opens more to me. Our tongues clash. It’s a mess, it’s a wildfire, it’s pure goddamn heat.
And then—
She pulls away.
No warning. Just gone.
She leans down, grabs her bag off the ground, and starts hobbling back toward the main entrance of the arena. One heel broken. One kiss dropped like a grenade.
I blink. “What the hell just happened?”
She doesn’t look back until she’s halfway across the parking lot. Then she turns.
“Well, aren’t you coming? I need to grab another pair of shoes.”
I stare at her. Her silhouette in the glow of the overhead lights, that long blond hair swaying against her blazer the unapologetic way she stands there like she didn’t just detonate a kiss that damn near undid me.
She waits. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tease. Just stands there, beautiful as hell.
I move. And when I reach her, I don’t ask. I don’t wait. I take her.
One arm around her waist, the other burying into her hair as I pull her hard against me and crash my mouth onto hers.
This kiss isn’t soft. There’s no hesitation.
It’s rough. Demanding as she gasps into it, but she doesn’t stop me, hell no, she gives it right back. Her fingers fist in my jacket as we lose all sense of where we are.
I grip her tighter and kiss her deeper. It’s all mouths and tongues and heat, and I’m seconds from lifting her right off the ground and slamming her back into the side of my truck.
She pulls back, breathless, grinning. “Come on,” she says and grabs my hand.
We run back through the rest of the parking lot. She’s running on her toes, and the heel of one shoe clicks wildly on the concrete, while I hold her hand to steady her. She swipes her ID at the arena doors, and we’re in.
Cool air hits our skin as we fly down the dim hallway, laughing like idiots who’ve just broken every HR rule in the book.
We slow when we hit the media department. Suzanna looks up from her laptop. Tarquin doesn’t even blink.
I flash them a grin that feels ridiculous even to me. Cassy says nothing, just taps her keycard again, and the office door unlocks.
She steps in first. I follow and use my foot to kick the door shut behind us. No lights. Don’t need them, and I grab her again. My mouth is back on hers before she even gets a chance to put her damn bag down.
It’s desperate.
My hands find her waist, her back, her thighs, everywhere.
Her mouth is wild against mine, her breath racing as she starts on my shirt buttons, one by one, not fast enough.
My fingers slide under her blazer, and I push it off her shoulders.
She shrugs it down, lips never leaving mine as it drops to the floor, and we don’t stop.
Her fingers slide down the planes of my chest as more buttons come undone. I’m pulling her tighter, deeper into me like I’ll die if I don’t.
“Ohh,” she moans. Quiet but unmistakable.
I want more. I want all of her, and judging by the way she’s moving against me, so does she.
She’s already tugging at my shirt like it’s something that wronged her, yanking it halfway off my shoulders. My hands find her hips as I guide her backward toward her desk, never breaking contact.
Her backside hits the edge. She gasps. I capture that sound with my mouth. Kissing her deeper, harder. Her fingers twist in my collar, and then she's tearing open my shirt—buttons ping off and clatter across the floor, forgotten.
Her blouse is next, but I'm done wasting time. I trail kisses down her neck, fumble one button, two, a third, then I grip the bottom edge and pull it over her head. She shrugs out of the blouse, and I kiss her again.
She gasps again, lips parted, eyes locked on mine like I just lit a match inside her.
Her hands are at my belt, her fingers moving quickly, urgent, like she’s barely holding herself together.
I reach behind her, find the clasp of her bra, and unfasten it slowly, then push it down her arms as I kiss the hollow at her throat.
The air shifts. It’s thicker now.
Her hand slips between us, undoes the button of my pants, and pulls the zipper down, while my hands are already behind her, undoing her skirt. The fabric pools around her ankles at the same time my pants hit the floor.
She kicks her skirt aside. I step out of my pants.
Her mouth is at my neck. “Uhh- uhh... Cassy...” I groan. She bites, not hard, just enough to make my pulse hit double time. My hands slide lower, find the edge of her panties, and pull them down slowly, teasing the soft skin at her hips.
She steps out of them and kicks them into the dark with a breathless, “Shit, I want you so bad, Blake!”
Before I can answer, her hands grip the waistband of my boxers and yank them down with zero hesitation. I grab her chin, pull her into another kiss, deep and rough, like I’ve been waiting weeks to taste her again.
I back her up fully against the desk again, the cool wood pressing into her thighs, her chest rising and falling fast beneath mine. The way she looks at me, flushed, wild, wanton, it undoes me.
The security lights streaming in through the window shimmer a stark glow over our naked bodies, highlighting every curve and muscle.
I take a moment to drink her in, my gaze roaming over her perfect porcelain skin, a canvas of flawless ivory that seems to glow under the light.
Her long legs are toned and inviting, leading up to the gentle curve of her hips. Her beautiful body is a landscape of soft valleys and enticing peaks, her breasts full and tempting, their tips hardening under my scrutiny.
Her tight little belly quivers slightly with each breath, a testament to her nervous anticipation.