Chapter 35
Tracy
“Where are we going?”
I’m sitting next to Blake in his truck a few days later. He basically kidnapped me from dinner with Whitney earlier, and we’ve just pulled onto some dirt path in the middle of nowhere.
It’s close to sunset, the tree-covered area cast in shadows. The muggy September night air kisses my skin as the breeze flows through the truck’s open windows.
“Someplace familiar,” Blake says vaguely, turning on his high beams as he navigates the rough terrain.
We hit a large bump, and I grab the handle above my head, the feeling that I’ve been here before suddenly rushing through me. Bumps. Mud. Off-roading excursions. Ruined heels.
“Oh god,” I groan. “This is the land you and Skye are developing, isn’t it?” I point to my feet with my free hand, even though Blake probably can’t see it in the quickly darkening cab. “I swear to god, if you make me sacrifice another pair of heels to this swamp, I’ll never forgive you.”
“As I recall, you got two new pairs of heels out of that deal.”
I wave him off. “What are we doing out here, anyway? Isn’t it a little late in the day for land development?” Something about this feels suspicious.
“You’ll see,” he says, his voice carefully void of any inflection.
I sigh, but don’t question further. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Blake, it’s that if he doesn’t want to tell you something, there’s no prying it out of him. It’s funny that he was so upset with me for how stubborn I am, when he’s just as bad, if not worse.
Darkness descends, and we continue into the thick, tree-covered land until a clearing emerges up ahead and the headlights reflect off water.
Pulling up along the shore, Blake cuts the engine. “Wait here a minute,” he says, then hops out of the truck.
It’s damn near pitch black out here without the headlights on. I try to watch where Blake goes, the flashlight on his phone the only thing visible to me as he walks along the shore. I also really try to listen to his request to stay in the truck, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
Hopping out, I carefully pick my way over the ground, stepping from grassy patch to grassy patch in the hopes the ground will be solid enough to keep my heels from sinking in.
“Are you seriously not going to tell me what we’re doing out here?” I ask once I’m close enough for Blake to hear me.
He turns back toward me, and I can just make out some kind of boxy thing next to him. “I thought I said to wait in the truck?”
I scoff, planting my hands on my hips. “Since when am I the type of person to sit on the sidelines?”
“You’re ruining the surprise,” he grumbles.
“Surprise?”
He reaches down and flips on some kind of switch, and then string lights illuminate the area.
My mouth drops open, taking in the sight in front of me.
Lights are delicately draped over the branches along the shore, creating a romantic atmosphere in the soft glow.
There’s a fire pit along the water with a log off to the side of it for seating.
Beyond that is a tent, one of those larger ones that’s big enough to stand in.
I can just barely make out a huge air mattress inside, covered in blankets and pillows.
“This is a date, isn’t it?” I ask, barely able to hide my grin. Prickly Blake Frenshaw knows how to be romantic. Who knew?
Of course he denies it. “No.”
“I think it is,” I insist. “You must really like me, huh?”
He stalks toward me, his dark features even more gorgeous in this lighting, like the shadows mold to him, becoming one. “I really like that sweet cunt of yours,” he drawls.
“Right.” I step just out of his reach. “You know, if you would have just been nice to me from the start, we could have been having hot sex this entire time. But alas, you’re still prickly Blake Frenshaw.”
“I think you like it.” He steps into me, cupping my face in his rough hand. “I think it gets you wet when I pick on you. I think you love the idea of having hate sex with me, because you know it will be rough. You know it will be passionate. You know it will leave you aching for more.”
God, I hate this man, because he’s exactly right. I’ve always been a puddle in his hand, even when he’s ruthless. The only thing he forgot is that I can dish it right back, and he so easily becomes a puddle in mine.
“So, what’s the plan, Blake?” I ask, trying to keep my tone indifferent.
I fail miserably, and he smirks at me. “To make you a dirty girl, just like the first time we came out here.”
He springs forward to grab me, and I realize what this is.
Kicking off my heels, I take off down the shoreline, my sundress fluttering behind me and the soft earth cushioning my footfalls as I sprint off into the dark.
My heart pounds, the blood rushing in my ears at the anticipation of being caught.
Of wondering what he’ll do to me when he does catch me.
I’m nervous and excited and a tiny bit terrified.
Blake likes to push me. He likes to test my limits. And I’m starting to suspect he does it to test his own. To channel his emotions into something less destructive than throwing fists or picking fights.
When I first met him, he was every bit the in-control, powerful businessman his reputation indicated.
Yet, I saw the cracks. I saw the breaks in his armor.
I saw the temper and the lashing out and the desire to fight.
The desire to handle things in ways unbecoming of one of the most successful real estate brokers in the country.
I saw the side of him that lurks beneath the surface. The side of him that bullied me for so long. The side of him that beat up a man in a bar for getting too close to me, and that fired his longest-standing agent and friend for speaking poorly of me.
My feet slow, my breathing ragged. The moon reflects off the water’s surface beside me, the only light other than the campsite down the shoreline.
Water laps gently at the shore. The trees rustle in the faint breeze, their dancing leaves and the chirping of bugs the only other sounds out here.
I stop, turning in a circle, but there’s no sign of Blake.
There’s no sound of footsteps pursuing me.
There’s nothing but the water and the wind and me.
It creates a weird sensation, both comforting and nerve-wracking at the same time. This feels right. I feel right. Being out here, with Blake lurking somewhere nearby, feels like exactly where I should be, and there’s such a welcome feeling to that—to knowing this is where I belong, in this moment.
It’s completely terrifying at the same time.
Not because I know Blake is going to pounce when I least expect it, but because my heart feels so much comfort with him.
He somehow went from being someone I wanted to despise, to someone who challenges me in the best ways.
He pushes me to be better. To do better.
And admittedly, to let him do all the kinky things he wants to me, but I’m not complaining about that part, either.
He’s become my reprieve. The person I can be myself with. The person I can drop my armor around. He’s the person who sees beyond the confident persona I put on every day. He sees every part of me, and he worships it.
That’s what he’s been doing this entire time, isn’t it? From the moment I stepped into his office, he saw me. He gave me a chance. He pushed me and challenged me at every turn, while simultaneously making sure nothing would hurt me along the way.
A twig snaps, and I whip my head toward the trees.
There, leaning against a thick trunk, is Blake.
He has a backpack slung over one shoulder and his feet casually crossed at the ankles.
His black tee and jeans blend in with the darkness of the woods, and were it not for the small reflective patch on the strap of the bag, I wouldn’t have seen him.
I can feel his sharp gaze on me, penetrating my skin and lighting my entire being on fire.
My adrenaline spikes and my hands become clammy at my sides.
Do I make a run for it? Do I admit defeat already?
The stubborn part of me says to run, to not let Blake win this so easily.
But the other part of me, the part he turns into a puddle, says to stay.
To let him catch me. To let him do whatever he wants to me.
The stubborn part wins.
I spin on my heel, my hair whipping around me as I head back down the shoreline toward the campsite. I briefly contemplate darting into the woods, but my lack of shoes is giving me a serious disadvantage, so I stick as close to the water and the soft, grassy earth along the shore as I can.
I’m halfway back to the campsite when I’m jerked to a halt by a fist in my hair, yanking me back. The sudden movement has me tumbling backward, right into a strong, solid chest.
“You’re so beautiful in the moonlight,” Blake murmurs in my ear, his arm coming around my stomach and holding me tight against him. “I could watch you all night.”
My chest heaves from the exertion of the run and the anticipation of what comes next. “Let go of me and you can,” I tell him as I try to wiggle free.
He increases his grip on my hair, my scalp erupting in tingles from the pull. “I think you’ll look even prettier strung up under the moon, like an offering to Satan himself.”
I whimper and sink into his hold, my thighs clenching as that heat builds in my core.
Blake hauls me back toward the campsite, and that’s when I notice the ropes hanging between the trees, leather cuffs dangling from the ends, taunting me. Dropping his backpack, he pulls me over to them, strapping one wrist in and then the other. He goes for my feet next, cuffing each ankle.
When he stands, he grabs my face in his hands. “Feel okay?” he asks.
I nod, wriggling my hands and feet. The cuffs are soft on the inside, and just tight enough to hold firm but not pinch my skin.