Chapter 13
Calla
“Great job today, ladies!” coos Giselle, the leader of the dance class I’ve been attending for the better half of eight months. “Let’s do some stretches to cool down, shall we?”
Slipping my heels from my feet with an audible groan, I lengthen my legs out before me, feeling my hamstring stretch. When I’m able to, my muscles feeling less tight with each inhale and exhale, I wrap my hands around the outsides of my pointed feet, bringing my nose to my bare knees.
By the time I’ve run through a series of stretches, my body feels like a limp noodle; pleasantly pliable.
“Hey.” A shoulder bumps mine gently as I greedily suck down mouthfuls of water from my reusable bottle.
I glance along to find Giselle grinning at me.
She doesn’t look like someone who just kept pace while she busted our arses in this afternoon’s class.
In fact, she hardly has a hair out of place, each black-haired strand still clipped together by her tortoiseshell claw clip, except for her long fringe artfully framing her pretty flushed face.
I smile back at her softly. “Hey, Gee.”
“Did you enjoy today’s class?”
“Loved it as always.”
“Good.” She bumps her shoulder against mine again. “I noticed you’d missed a few classes recently and I—”
“Life’s just been busy,” I lie.
Giselle nods. “I get that. But I just didn’t want you to feel awkward because of me dating Blake’s younger brother and you know—”
“It’s fine,” I say with a wave of my hand. “There’s nothing for either of us to feel awkward about. It’s not like Blake and I together.”
“Right… but you’ve slept together?”
“Yep.”
“Prior to showing his around his new apartment?”
“Yep.”
“And now…”
“Things are complicated,” I say truthfully, heart plummeting, landing somewhere in my pits of my stomach, at my own admission. Every time I think about it, I can’t stop from seeing the look on Blake’s face, the image of his back, muscles bunched tight, as he walked away from Thomas and me.
I don’t know what the hell had gone on in the conference room with my boss’s nephew, but I do know I never meant to hurt Blake.
God, what on earth is happening? I don’t do feelings, open emotions or vulnerability, and I’ve spent the majority of my life this way, never running into an issue before, so why is Blake’s disappearing act bothering me so bloody much?
As if she’s able to read my mine, Giselle pats my knee with a soft smile. “I get it, C. I’m here if you ever need to talk. Okay? Just us girls.”
Nodding, I return her smile. “Thank you.”
Giselle floats off to speak to another client, leaving me to slip my trainers onto my feet and heft my gym bag, containing my worn heels and a spare jumper in case it gets chilly, onto my shoulder.
With a wave, I duck through the door, jogging past the main area of the busy gym, down the concrete stairs and to the street beyond.
Even though it’s almost eight in the evening, London is still delightfully warm, humidity whipping up a frenzy all around. I bask in the bright sunlight, allowing it to give me a spring in my tired step as I hail a taxi.
But it’s not my address I give the cockney sounding driver.
Settling back, laying my head on the rest behind, I allow the air conditioning to blow over my sticky skin.
I close my eyes against the golden light bouncing from the dusty windows, cascading a technicolour rainbow of colour over my lap and hope I’m not going to get fucking fired for what I’m about to do.
Strictly speaking, the information clients give us at McAvoy and Fraser are confidential – it’s written in bold in the contract – but I’ve never been much of a stickler for the rules.
Plus, this feels important. At least, to me it does.
Now I just have to hope nobody saw me jotting down the last address Blake gave, into the notes app in my phone.
I open my eyes just in time to see us fly over London Bridge, the pavements on either side filled with tourists and their flashing cameras. Streets whizz by, shops too, the outdoor dining areas of cafes and pubs packed to the brim with patrons enjoying the sunshine.
“Here we are, darlin’,” the cab driver utters, pulling up to a curb in front of an unfamiliar block of apartments, leaving the engine idlingly as he reads my total out to me.
I tap my phone to the card reader, watching it glow green, before I unstick my bare thighs from the leather seat and step out.
Ducking beneath the arm of the helpful passerby who holds the door open for me, I make a dash for the correct floor. When I find Blake’s apartment, I raise my fist, knocking without a moment’s hesitation.
His lock clicks, keys jangling, before his door swings open.
My mouth dries up at the sight of him.
Blake’s upper half is bare, his sculpted abdomen on full display, each divot of his muscles begging to be kissed.
The short dark hairs of his happy trail lead down to a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms, hanging low on his hips, showcasing the sharp V lines of his Adonis belt that I itch to trace with the tip of my tongue.
I swallow thickly at the sight of his bare feet, dragging my eyes to his face.
Or at least, I try.
Blake shifts, one of his hands cupping the back of his head, causing his bicep to bulge and stealing my attention all over again.
“Calla?”
Forcibly unsticking my dry tongue from the roof my mouth, I smile. “Blake.”
“What are you doing here?” He frowns. “Is something wrong with the apartment?”
I shake my head, hefting my gym bag further up my shoulder. “No, nothing’s wrong with the apartment. Can I… come in?”
Blake stares at me for a heartbeat before his gaze drops to my legs, bare except for a tight-fitting pair of gym shorts I’d worn to my dance class with Giselle.
I can’t stop the smirk from overtaking my lips.
I guess two can play at this game.
“See something you like?” I grin, twirling in a circle so he can see the full effect. I don’t know what the hell type of magic they make these shorts with, but they make my arse look incredible… if I do say so myself.
“Your trouble, you know that?”
“I know,” I agree, feeling my cheeks warm. “So, can I come in?”
Blake’s throat works, his jaw ticking as he wordlessly pulls the door open a couple of inches, giving me just enough space to slide inside. But not enough that I can pass him without my body brushing his.
I swear he does it on purpose.
That thought makes my body light up, my nipples beading against the thin material of my sports bra and crop top before I can tell my body to calm the fuck down and stop barrelling towards ‘I’m horny’ town.
I hardly get a glimpse of his apartment, before Blake is gripping the curve of my hip, turning me to face him.
He peers down at me, concern etched deeply into his features, creating a crease between his brows. “What’s wrong, Calla?”
My eyes threaten to close at the feel of his bare hand gripping my body, the warm, dry heat of his palm seeping through the thin material of my gym shorts. I try to fight my body’s response, but it’s no good; there’s just something about Blake’s touch that my body responds too.
“Calla?” A finger ducks under my chin, forcing me to peel open and lids blink out of my reverie. “What. Is. Wrong?”
“Nothing.” I pop my shoulders. “I-I just hate the way we left things.”
Blake’s eyes soften. “Me too.”
I lick my lips. “You stormed off without saying anything to me. Twice.”
“I did.”
“And you looked… upset. Both times. It hasn’t been sitting right on my heart, so I’ve come to check up on you.”
Blake squeezes my hip before he takes a step back, putting an inch or so of space between us.
I hate it.
“I wasn’t upset, Calla.” He shakes his head. “Pissed off more like.”
“Why?”
“Because your co-worker, Thomas, is a prick.”
I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh loudly. “Oh, I know.”
“You know?”
“Mhm.”
“How on earth do you put up with him?”
“I have to; he’s my boss’ nephew. He practically gets away with murder.”
Blake flattens his lips. “Of course he does. Do you know he implied the two of you were sleeping together when I went to sign that damned document?”
A grin dances across my lips. “Jealous, are we?”
Blinking, Blake opens his mouth and then shuts it again, as if only just realising the words that have escaped him.
“Come on,” I coax, stepping forwards until we’re almost chest to chest. I, oh so desperately, want him to play with me, to step out of his rigid steel box of rules that he’s set himself in. “Tell me the truth, Blake.”
Silence stretches out between us. It feels like it lasts an age, even though it’s probably only a heartbeat or two, until Blake gives me his answer. “I know I have no right to be, but yes, actually.”
I repress a giddy squeal, the corners of my lips up ticking in a pleased smirk. “I like it; green is your colour. But there’s no need, I wouldn’t go near Thomas McAvoy if I was the last woman on earth.”
Blake blinks down at me. I wonder if it’s subconscious the way he moves his finger along my soft jawline to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, or if it’s done on purpose. Either way, I’m putty in his capable hands.
“He likes you, though.”
“No shit, Captain Obvious. Have you seen me?” I try for a cocky grin to diffuse the myriads of stifling tensions building around us.
I vote maybe we should just fuck it out and see if that fixes things?
But I’m not quite sure Blake is of the same opinion.
At least, not yet. He’s attracted to me, that much is obvious, otherwise we wouldn’t have slept together twice, and his eyes wouldn’t be roaming around my tight crop top and short clad figure right now.
But I think he’s struggling with the lack of structure that I bring to the table. I’m not exactly somebody who knows what they’re doing with their life, in fact, I don’t have a single fucking clue. I’m winging it each and every day and praying that it all works out in the end.